Lowell nodded. “I respect your judgment, Alex. Let me tell you some things about Sachs that might be important,” he said. He had stopped exercising by now. He began toweling off his thick neck and shoulders.
His body looked like polished rock.
Lowell continued to talk as he dried himself meticulously. “Let me start at the beginning: There was an infamous murder of a young couple here a while back. This was in nineteen eighty-one. Wick Sachs was an undergrad at the time, a liberal arts student, very brilliant mind. I was in the graduate school then. When I became dean, I learned that Sachs had actually been one of the suspects in the murder investigation, but he was definitely cleared. There wasn't any evidence that he was involved in any way. I don't know every detail, but you can check it for yourself with the Durham police. It was in the spring of '-one. The murdered students were Roe Tier-they and Tom Hutchinson. It was a huge scandal, I remember. In those days, a single murder case could still actually shock a community. Thing is, the case was never solved.” “Why didn't you bring this up before?” I asked Lowell.
“The FBI knew all about it, Alex. I told them myself. I know that they talked to Dr. Sachs several weeks ago. It was my impression that he wasn't under suspicion, and that they had decided there was no connection with the earlier murder case. I'm absolutely sure of it.” “Fair enough,” I said to the dean. I asked him for another big favor.
Could he dredge up everything on Dr. Sachs that the FBI had originally requested? I also wanted to see the Duke yearbooks from the time when Sachs and Will Rudolph had both been students. I needed to do some important homework on the class of '81.
Around seven that night, Sampson and I met with the Durham police again. Detectives Ruskin and Sikes showed up, among others. They were feeling heavy-duty pressure, too.
They pulled us aside before the update on the Casanova investigation.
The stress had gotten to them, cooled their jets a little.
“Listen, you two have worked big, bad cases like this before,” Ruskin said. As usual, he was doing most of the talking. Davey Sikes didn't seem to like us any better now than he had the first day we met.
“I know that my partner and I got a little territorial at first. I want you to know, though, all we want to do is stop the killing now.” Sikes nodded his large, block like head. "We want to nail Sachs.
Trouble is, our brass has us chasing our tails as usual." Ruskin smiled, and finally so did I. We all understood departmental politics. I still didn't trust the Durham homicide detectives. I was certain they wanted to use Sampson and me or at least keep us out of the way.
Also, I had the feeling they were still holding evidence back.
The Durham homicide detectives told us they were mired in an investigation of medical doctors in the Research Triangle, doctors with any kind of criminal record or associations. Wick Sachs was the chief suspect, but not the only one.
There was still a strong chance that Casanova would turn out to be someone we hadn't even heard of. That was the way it often worked with repeat-killer cases. He was out there but we might have no idea who he really was. That was the scariest part of all, the most frustrating, too.
Nick Ruskin and Sikes took Sampson and me over to the suspects board that had been put up. There were seventeen names on it at this point.
Five were doctors. Kate had originally believed that Casanova was a doctor, and Kyle Craig did, too.
1 read off the doctors' names.
Dr. Stefan Romm Dr. Francis Constantini Dr. Richard Dilallo Dr. Miguel Fesco Dr. Kelly Clark I wondered again if several people could somehow be involved with the house of horror. Or was Wick Sachs our man? Was he Casanova?
“You're the big guru.” Davey Sikes was suddenly leaning over my shoulder. “Who is he, my man? Help us local yokels out. Catch the bogeyman, Dr. Cross.”
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 89.
LATE THAT NIGHT, Casanova was on the move again. He was hunting again.
He had missed the thrill these last few days, but this was going to be an important night.
He easily penetrated the security of the sprawling Duke University Medical Center complex through a little-used gray-metal door in the private parking area reserved for doctors. On the way to his appointed destination, he passed several chirping nurses and serious-faced young doctors. Some of the doctors and nurses nodded, and even smiled at him.
As always, Casanova fit in perfectly with the surroundings. He could go anywhere and he usually did.
As he hurried down the sterile white hospital corridors, his head was busy figuring out complicated, important calculations about his future.
He'd had a hugely successful run here in the Research Triangle area and the Southeast, but it was definitely drawing to an end. Starting tonight.
Alex Cross and the other dreary plodders were getting too close to him.
Even the Durham police were becoming dangerous. He was a “territorial rec.” He knew their inadequate terminology for him. Eventually, someone would find the house. Or worse, someone would probably find him through dumb luck.
Yes, it was time to move on. Maybe he and Will Rudolph should go to New York City, he thought. Or sunny Florida, which had drawn Ted Bundy? Arizona might be pleasant. Spend the fall season in Tempe or Tucson ... bustling college towns filled to bursting with prey. Or maybe they could settle in near one of the huge campuses in Texas.
Austin was supposed to be nice. Or Urbana, Illinois? Madison, Wisconsin? Columbus, Ohio?
He was leaning toward Europe actually, either London, Munich, or Paris.
His version of the grand tour. Maybe that was the right concept for the times. A truly grand tour for the whiz kids. Who needed to go watch Dracula when there were real monsters roaming the countryside day and night?
Casanova wondered if anyone had managed to follow him into the Medical Center maze. How about Alex Cross? It was a possibility. Dr. Cross had relatively impressive staying power. He had bested that unimaginative child molester, that garden-variety psycho killer, up in D.C. Cross had to be eliminated before he and Will Rudolph left the area for bigger and better things. Otherwise, Cross would follow them to hell and back.
Casanova passed into Building Two of the Byzantine hospital maze. This was the way to the hospital morgue and maintenance, so the foot traffic was usually lighter.
He peered down the long, off-white corridor behind him. No followers.
No one willing to lead in this gutless, witless age, either.
Maybe they didn't know about him yet. Maybe they hadn't figured anything out. But they would eventually. There were clues. It could all be traced back to Roe Tierney and Tom Hutchinson. The unsolved golden couple murder. The very beginning for him and Will Rudolph.
God, he was glad his friend was back. Rudolph always made him feel better when he was around. Rudolph truly understood desire, and ultimately, freedom. Rudolph understood him as no one else ever had.
Casanova began to jog down a brightly polished corridor in Building Two of the Medical Center.
As he quickened his pace, the sound of his slapping footsteps echoed in the empty halls. In a few minutes he was in Building Four, all the way over on the northwest side of the hospital.
He looked back one more time.
Nobody had followed. Nobody had guessed right yet. Maybe they never would.
Casanova came out into the brightly lit, almost orangish, parking area.
A black Jeep was parked close to the building, and he nonchalantly climbed inside.
The vehicle had MD plates, state of North Carolina. Yet another of his masks.
He was feeling strong and sure of himself again. He felt wonderfully free and alive tonight. This was exhilarating; it could be one of his finest hours, actually. He felt as if he could fly through the silky black night.