Something was wrong, though ... something didn't track in straight lines for me. Something ... what was wrong here?
The emergency team from Duke Medical Center put Kate on a stretcher, the kind used for broken backs and severe head injuries. I don't think I've ever seen anyone carried so delicately, under any tragic circumstances. The doctors looked ashen as they began to carry her out of the house. The crowd became suddenly hushed when the EMS crew appeared outside.
“They're bringing her to the Duke Medical Center. You'll get some arguments from the university people, but that's the best facility in the state,” Kyle told me. He was trying to be reassuring in his soothing, mechanical-man way. Actually, he was surprisingly good at it.
Something was wrong ... something was all out of kilter ... Think.
Focus your thoughts somehow. This could be important ... but I couldn't think in straight lines. Not yet, I couldn't.
“What about Wick Sachs?” I asked Kyle.
“He got home before ten o'clock. He's there now ... We don't know that he didn't go out for sure, I suppose. He could have slipped out past us somehow. Maybe he has a way out of the house. I don't think so, though.” I moved away from Kyle Craig and went over to one of the white-coated Duke University doctors near the ambulance.
Camera flashes were erupting everywhere around us. Hundreds of “memorable” pictures were being taken by the night-crawlers at the crime scene.
“Can I ride with her?” The EMS doctor very gently shook his head at me. “No, sir,” he said.
He seemed to be talking in slow motion. “No, sir, only the family can ride in the ambulance. I'm sorry, Dr. Cross.” “I'm her family tonight,” I said. I pushed past him and climbed into the rear of the ambulance. He didn't try to stop me. He couldn't have, anyway.
I felt numb all over. Kate lay amid the solemn monitoring and resuscitation equipment in the close quarters of the rescue ambulance.
I was afraid that she had died as I was getting into the ambulance, or when they were carrying her outside.
I sat beside Kate and held just the tips of her fingers. 'It's Alex.
I'm here for you,“ I whispered to her. ”Be strong right now. You're so strong, anyway. Be strong now.'
The same doctor who had told me I couldn't get into the ambulance came in and sat next to me. He felt obliged to tell me the rules, but he didn't care to enforce them. His name tag said Dr. B. Stringer, Duke University EMS Team. I owed him a big favor.
“Can you tell me anything about Kate's chances?” I asked as the emergency ambulance slowly pulled away from the nightmare scene in Chapel Hill.
“That's a tough question, I'm afraid. She's alive, and that's a miracle in itself,” he spoke in a low, respectful voice. “There are multiple fractures and contusions, some with open gashes in them. Both cheekbones are fractured. She may have a sprained neck. She must have played dead on him. Somehow, she had the presence of mind to trick him.” Kate's face was swollen badly and cut. She was almost unrecognizable.
I knew the same was true all over her body. I clung gently to Kate's hand as the ambulance sped toward Duke Medical Center. She had the presence of mind to trick him? That was Kate, all right. I wondered, though.
I held on to another mind-blowing thought. It had hit me hard outside the house. I thought I knew what had been wrong in Kate's bedroom.
Will Rudolph had been in the bedroom, hadn't he? The Gentleman Caller had been there for the attack. He had to be the one. It was his style. Extreme, graphic violence. Rage.
There was little evidence of Casanova. No artistic touches. There was such extraordinary violence, though ... They were twinning.' Two monsters bonding to make one. Perhaps Rudolph resented Kate because Casanova had loved her. Maybe she had come between them in his twisted perception. Maybe they had left Kate alive on purpose so she could be a vegetable for the rest of her life.
They were working together now, weren't they? There were two of them to catch, to stop.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 97.
THE FBI and Durham police decided to bring Dr. Wick Sachs in for questioning early the next morning. This was a big deal; a pivotal decision in the case.
A special investigator was flown down from Virginia to do the delicate interrogation. He was one of the FBI's best, a man named James Heekin.
He questioned Sachs throughout most of the morning.
I sat with Sampson, Kyle Craig, and detectives Nick Ruskin and Davey Sikes. We watched the interrogation through a two-way mirror inside Durham Police Headquarters. I felt like a starving man with his nose pressed against the window of an expensive restaurant. But there was no food being served inside.
The FBI interrogator was good, very patient, and as crafty as a star district attorney. But so was Wick Sachs. He was articulate; extremely cool under verbal fire; even smug.
“This fucker is going down,” Davey Sikes finally said inside the quiet observation room. It was good to see that
