Maybe he'd given her Klonopin, Kate considered.
Ironically, Klonopin was usually prescribed as an anti-anxiety medication. But if he started her at a high-enough dosage, say five to ten milligrams, she would experience approximately the same side effects she was feeling now.
Or maybe he'd used Marinol capsules? They were prescribed for treatment of nausea during chemotherapy. Kate knew Marinol was a real beaut! If he put her on, say two hundred milligrams a day, she'd be bouncing off the walls. Cottonmouth. Disorientation. Periods of manic depression. A dosage of fifteen hundred to two thousand milligrams would be lethal.
He had taken away her escape plan with the powerful drugs. She couldn't fight him like this. Her karate training was useless.
Casanova had seen to that.
“You fucker,” Kate said out loud. She almost never swore. “You motherfucker,” she whispered between clenched teeth.
She didn't want to die. She was only thirty-one years old. She was finally trained to be a doctor, a good one, she hoped. Why me? Don't let this happen. This man, this awful maniac, is going to kill me for no good reason! Shivers as cold as icicles ran up and down her spine. She felt as if she were going to throw up, or maybe even pass out. Orthostatic hypotension, she thought. It was the medical term for fainting when you get up fast from a bed or chair.
She couldn't defend herself against him! He'd wanted her powerless, and he'd apparently succeeded. More than anything else that finally got to her, and she started to cry. That made her even angrier.
I don't want to die.
I don't want to die.
How do I stop it from happening?
How do I stop Casanova?
The house was so very quiet again. She didn't think he was there. She desperately needed to talk to somebody. To the other women prisoners.
She had to work herself up to it again.
He could be hiding in the house. Waiting. Watching her right at this second.
“Hello out there,” she finally called, surprised at the raspiness of her own voice.
'This is Kate Mctiernan. Please listen. He's given me a lot of drugs.
I think he's going to kill me soon. He told me that he was. I'm very afraid ... I don't want to die.'
Kate repeated the same message once more, word for word.
She repeated it again.
There was silence; no response from anybody. The other women were afraid, too. They were right to be petrified. Then a voice came floating down from somewhere above her. The voice of an angel.
Kate's heart jumped. She remembered the voice. She listened closely to every word from her brave friend.
“This is Naomi. Maybe we can help each other somehow. Every so often he gets us together, Kate. You're still on probation. He kept each of us in the downstairs room at first. Please don't fight him! We can't talk anymore. It's too dangerous. You're not going to die, Kate.” Another woman called out. “Please be brave, Kate. Be strong for all of us. Just don't be too strong.” Then the women's voices stopped, and it became very quiet again, very lonely, in her room.
The drug, whatever he had pumped into her, was working full blast now.
Kate Mctiernan felt as if she were going mad.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 41.
CASANOVA was going to kill her, wasn't he? It was going to happen soon.
In the terrible silence and loneliness, Kate felt the overwhelming need to pray, to talk to God. God would still hear her in this grotesquely evil place, wouldn't He?
I'm sorry if I only partially believed in You for the last few years before this. I don't know if I'm agnostic, but at least I'm honest. I have a pretty good sense of humor. Even when humor is inappropriate.
I know this isn't “Let's Make a Deal,” but if You can get me out of this one, I'll be eternally grateful.
Sorry about that. I keep saying this can't happen to me, but it's happening. Please help me. This is not one of Your better ideas..
She was praying so hard, concentrating, that she didn't hear him at the door. He was always so quiet, anyway. A phantom. A ghost.
“You don't listen a whit, do you? You just don't learn.”' Casanova said to her.
He held a hospital syringe in one hand. He had on a mauve-colored mask smeared with thick white and blue paint. It was the most gruesome and upsetting mask he'd worn so far. The masks did match his moods, didn't they?
