“That’s what I thought at first. It’s what the people at the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico believed. But then I finally got it.”
“What did you get? Tell me all about myself.” Pierce mocked. He was lucid. His mind still worked quickly.
“The other murders-you didn’t want to kill any of them, did you?”
Thomas Pierce glared. He focused on me with a sheer act of will. His arrogance reminded me of Soneji. “So why did I?”
“You were punishing yourself. Each murder was a reenactment of Isabella’s death. You repeated the ritual over and over. You suffered her death each time you killed.”
Thomas Pierce moaned. “Ohhh, ohhh. I murdered her here. In this bed!…Can you imagine? Of course you can’t. No one can.”
He raised the scalpel above his body.
“Pierce, don’t!”
I had to do something. I rushed him. I threw myself at him, and the scalpel jammed into my right palm. I screamed in pain as Pierce pulled it out.
I grabbed at the folded yellow-and-white-flowered comforter and pressed it against Pierce’s chest. He was fighting me, flopping around like a man having a seizure.
“Alex, no. Alex, look out!” I heard Sampson call out from behind me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He was moving fast toward the bed. “Alex, the scalpel!” he yelled.
Pierce was still struggling beneath me. He screamed obscenities. His strength was amazing. I didn’t know where the scalpel was, or if he still had it.
“Let Smith kill Pierce!” he screeched.
“No,” I yelled back. “I want you alive.”
Then the unthinkable-again.
Sampson fired from point-blank range. The explosion was deafening in the small bedroom. Thomas Pierce’s body convulsed on the bed. Both his legs kicked high in the air. He screeched like a badly wounded animal. He sounded inhuman-like an alien.
Sampson fired a second time. A strange guttural sound came from Pierce’s throat. His eyes rolled way back in his head. The whites showed. The scalpel dropped from his hand.
I shook my head. “No, John. No more. Pierce is dead. Mr. Smith is dead, too. May he rest in hell.”
Epilogue. Home Again, Home Again
Chapter 130
I WAS DRAINED of all feeling, slightly wounded and bandaged, but at least I got home safe and sound and in time to say good night to the kids. Damon and Jannie now had their own rooms. They both wanted it that way. Nana had given Jannie her room on the second floor. Nana had moved down to the smaller bedroom near the kitchen, which suited her fine.
I was so glad to be there, to be home again.
“Somebody’s been decorating in here,” I said as I peeked into Jannie’s new digs. It surprised her that I was home from the wars. Her face lit up like a jack-o’-lantern on Halloween.
“I did it myself.” Jannie pumped up her arms and “made muscles” for me. “Nana helped me hang the new curtains, though. We made them on the sewing machine. You like?”
“You’re the hostess with the mostes’. I guess I missed all the fun,” I told her.
“You sure did,” Jannie said and laughed. “C’mere you,” she said.
I went over to my little girl, and she gave me one of the sweetest hugs in the long and sometimes illustrious history of fathers and daughters. I felt so safe in her arms.
Then I went to Damon’s room, and because it had been both Damon and Jannie’s room for so long, I was taken aback, shook up with the change.
Damon had chosen a sporting decor with monster and comedy movie accents. Manly, yet sensitive. I liked what he’d done to his room. It was pure Damon.
“You’ve got to help me with my room,” I told him.
“We missed our boxing lesson tonight,” he said, not in the tone of a major complaint, just setting the record straight.
We settled for wrestling on his bed, but I also had to agree to a double boxing lesson in the basement the following night. Actually, I couldn’t wait. Damon was growing up too fast. So was Jannie. I couldn’t have been happier with either of them.
I was a lucky man.
I had made it home again.
Chapter 131
I WAS TRYING to live my life differently, but it’s hard to change old habits. I had a saying I really liked: heart leads head.
I was working on that too. I was going for it tonight.
Christine was still living out in Mitchellville, but not in her old house. She told me that staying there was too painful after her husband’s murder during the “Jack and Jill” case. She had moved to a condo and fixed it up nicely.
I turned off the John Hanson Highway, and a few blocks later I saw the porch light of her place up ahead. I stopped my car and sat in the dark with the motor running.
The porch light and also a single light in the living room were on, but the place was mostly dark. I glanced at my watch: almost quarter to eleven. I should have called her first.
I finally climbed out of my old Porsche and headed to the front door.
I rang the bell and waited. I was feeling vulnerable in the harsh light of the front porch.
Heart leads head.
Christine was taking a long time answering the doorbell, and I started to worry about her. It was one of those old bad habits. The dragonslayer never sleeps. Maybe something was wrong inside the house. I was wearing my Glock. I have to, according to the law.
I could smell flowers outside in the night air. The natural fragrance reminded me of the perfume Christine sometimes wore, Gardenia Passion. I called it “Gardenia Ambush” as a joke.
I was about to ring the bell a second time when the door suddenly swung open.
“What a surprise!” Christine said. She broke into a brilliant smile. Her brown eyes went down to my bandage. “What happened to your hand?”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Just a scratch.”
“Won’t even make your highlight film reel, right?”
I laughed. “That’s probably true.”
Christine was wearing faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt tied at the waist. Her feet were bare. I had never seen her when she didn’t look good to me, when she didn’t make me feel a little light-headed.
“Are you really okay? Alex? I was out in the garden. I thought that maybe you were back from Boston. Now I’m having prescient feelings, premonitions, just like you.”
I reached out and took Christine into my arms and suddenly everything was right. I felt whole again. I felt connected to the eternal river and all that good stuff. I had missed that feeling for too many years of my life.
“This was part of my premonition,” she whispered. “I willed you here, Alex. I willed you into my arms.”
We kissed and pressed against each other and it seemed as if we were merging, getting closer and closer. I loved the touch of her mouth against mine, the feel of her body, the way we fit. We were both strong, and yet we could be gentle together. I passionately believe in soulmates. I guess I always have. The best thing I had ever done in my life was to be in love. I missed it and was finally ready to love again.
“I missed you too much this time,” I whispered against the softness of her cheek.
“I missed you,” she said. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep. I knew you would come.”
She’s the one, I was thinking. I didn’t have any doubt of it.
Heart leads head.
I cupped her face gently in my hands. She felt so precious to me.
“I love you more than I ever loved anything in my life. I love you so much. Marry me, Christine.”
