“Please don't hurt me. I can't take any more of this,” Maria Jane pleaded in a hoarse whisper.
She was hugging herself, rocking gently back and forth. She had on ripped black tights and a wrinkled Nirvana T-shirt. Maria Jane was just nineteen years old, an art major and aspiring painter at North Carolina State in Raleigh.
“I'm a police detective,” I whispered in the softest voice possible.
“Nobody can hurt you now. We won't let them.” Maria Jane moaned, and she began to cry tears of relief. Her whole body was quivering.
“He can't hurt you now, Maria Jane,” I reassured her in the softest voice I could manage. I could barely speak, actually. 'I have to find the others. I'll be back, I promise you. I'm leaving your door open.
You can come out. You're safe now.'
I had to help the others. His harem of special women was right here.
Naomi was one of them.
I broke into the next room in the passageway. I still couldn't catch my breath. I was exhilarated, frightened, saddened all at the same time.
A tall blond woman in the room told me her name was Melissa Stanfield.
I remembered the name. She was in nursing school. I had so many questions, but there was time for only one.
I gently touched her shoulder. She shuddered, then collapsed against me. “Do you know where Naomi Cross is?” I asked her.
“I'm not sure,” Melissa said. “I don't know the whole layout here.” She shook her head and began to cry. I don't think she even knew who I was talking about.
“You're safe now. The nightmare is finally over, Melissa. Let me help the others,” I whispered.
Out in the hall again, I saw Sampson unbolt a door. I heard him say, “I'm a police detective. It's safe now.” His voice was soft: Sampson the Gentle.
The women we had freed were wandering, dazed and confused, out of the prison rooms. They hugged one another in the hallway. Most of them were sobbing, but I could feel their relief, even their joy. Someone had finally come to help them.
I entered a second hallway at the end of the first. There were more locked doors. Was Naomi here? Was she alive? The pounding in my chest was unbearable.
I opened the first door on the right and there she was. There was Scootchie. The best sight in the entire world.
Tears finally streamed from my eyes. I was the one who couldn't talk now. I thought that I would have a permanent memory of everything that happened between the two of us. Every word, look, nuance.
“I knew you'd come for me, Alex,” Naomi said. She staggered into my arms and held me tightly.
“Oh, sweet, sweet Naomi,” I whispered. I felt as if thousands of pounds had been lifted off me. “This makes it worth everything. Well, almost.” I had to look at her up close. I held her precious face in both my hands. She seemed so fragile and tiny in the room. But she was alive! I had finally found her.
I called out for Sampson. “I found Naomi! We found her, John! In here! We're in here!” Scootchie and I folded into each other's arms, just like old times. If I'd regretted becoming a detective at any other time, this made up for it. I realized now that I'd thought she was dead I just couldn't give up the fight. Never give up.
“I knew you'd be here, just like this. I dreamed it. I lived for this instant. I prayed every day, and here you are.” Naomi managed the most wonderful smile I have ever seen. “I love you.” “I love you, too. I missed you like crazy. Everybody did.” After a moment I gently pulled away from Naomi.
I remembered about the monsters, and the way they had to be thinking now. Still plotting everything. Leopold and Loeb all grown up, committing perfect crimes.
“Are you sure you're okay?” I smiled finally, the beginning of a smile, anyway.
I could see some of the old intensity returning to Naomi's eyes. “Alex, go. Get the others out,” she urged me. “Please let the others out of these cages he kept us in.” Just then a strange, terrible sound echoed in the passageway. A scream of pain. I ran from Naomi's room and saw the one thing I could never imagine happening, not in my worst nightmares.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 109.
THE LOUD, DEEP-VOICED CALL for help had come from Sampson. My partner was in trouble. Two men, both wearing ghoulish masks, were struggling over him. Casanova and Rudolph? Who else could it be?
Sampson was down in the hallway. His mouth was open in shock and pain.
A knife, or ice pick, protruded from the center of his back.
It was a situation I had faced twice before, riding patrol on Washington's streets. A partner in trouble. I had no choice and probably only one chance. I didn't hesitate. I raised my Clock and fired.
I surprised them with the quick shot. They hadn't expected me to shoot while they were holding Sampson. The
