"They can't get enough of you, Alex." Tia laughed and clapped her hands, just the way she'd been doing for years.

  "That's 'cause we don't see enough of him," Damon taunted.

  "The job's almost done," I said, hoping that was true, not completely believing it. "At least you're all getting three squares a day." I laughed and gave Tia an extra hug.

  I ate some breakfast and stayed at Tia's for a little more than an hour. We never stopped talking the whole time, but only once did anyone bring up the current difficult and scary situation. "When can we go back home?" Damon asked.

  They all stared at me, waiting for a good answer. Even little Alex held me in his gaze. "I won't lie to you," I finally said. "We have to find Kyle Craig first. Then we can go home."

  "And it can be just like before?" Jannie asked.

  I recognized a trick question. "Even better than that," I told her. "I'm going to make some big changes soon. I promise you."

  Chapter 110

  I left for Charlotte, North Carolina, on a ten o'clock flight out of D.C. I was heading south to visit Craig family members. Maybe Kyle was there as Well. It wouldn't surprise me.

  His father, William Craig, chose not to be home when I arrived at the estate where Kyle and his brothers had been raised. It was a gentleman's farm, with a rambling stone-and-wood house set on over forty acres in horse country. Someone on the staff told me it cost over fifteen dollars a yard just to paint all the white fences running around the pastures.

  I spoke with Miriam Craig on a rear porch that overlooked wildflower gardens and a rock-filled brook. She seemed very much in control of her emotions, which surprised me, but maybe shouldn't have. Mrs. Craig told me a great deal about her family.

  "Kyle's father and I had no idea, no clue about his darker side, if indeed the terrible allegations are true," she said. "Kyle was always distant, reserved, introspective, I suppose you could say, but there was nothing to suggest that he might be this troubled. He did well in school, and in athletics. Kyle even plays the piano with a beautiful touch."

  "I never knew he played," I said, and yet Kyle had often commented on my playing. "Did you and his father tell him how well he was doing — in school, for example? In athletics? I suspect that boys need to hear that more than we know."

  Mrs. Craig took offense. "He didn't want to hear it. He'd say, 'I know,' and then walk away from us. Almost as if we had disappointed him by stating the obvious to him."

  "His brothers did better than Kyle in school?"

  "In terms of grades, yes, but the boys were all high-honor students. Most teachers saw Kyle as being deeper. I believe that he had the highest IQ, one forty-nine, if I remember correctly. He chose not to apply himself to every subject. He had a strong will, even as a young boy."

  "But there were no obvious signs that he was severely troubled?"

  "No, Detective Cross. Believe me, I've thought about it a lot."

  "Kyle's father would agree?"

  "We talked about it just last night. He agrees. He's just too upset to be here. Kyle's father is a proud man, and a good one. William Craig is a very good man."

  Next, I went to see Kyle's brother. I talked to Dr. Craig in a white-on-white conference room at the Charlotte clinic where he was a partner.

  "I found Kyle to be caustic and very cruel. I know that Blake did as well," he confessed over tea.

  "Cruel in what way?" I asked.

  "Not to small animals or anything obvious like that — to other people. Actually, Kyle liked animals just fine. He was vicious at school, though. Both verbally and physically. A real prick. Nobody liked him much. He had no close friends that I remember. That's odd, isn't it? Kyle never had a single close friend. Let me tell you something, Detective. During Kyle's sophomore and most of his junior year, our father made him sleep in the garage because he was so unpleasant to have around."

  "That seems a little severe," I commented. Nothing I'd heard so far was as revealing. Kyle had never mentioned the punishment. Neither had Mrs. Craig. All she'd said was that Kyle's father was a good man, whatever that meant.

  "I don't think it was severe, Detective. I think it was fair, and much less than he deserved. Kyle should have been thrown out of our house when he was around thirteen. My brother was a goddamn monster, and apparently he still is."

  Chapter 111

  Who would Kyle go after next? It was the question that obsessed me now. I couldn't let it go. When I got home that night, I began to think about going out to Seattle. I had a bad feeling. Lots of them, actually. Should I go out there? Would Kyle go after Christine Johnson next? He knew how to strike to cause the most hurt. Kyle knew me so well — but apparently I didn't know Kyle at all.

  Would he go after Christine? Or maybe Jamilla? Was I thinking the way Kyle would?

  One step ahead.

  God damn him to hell.

  Maybe he would just come after me; maybe all I had to do was stay in the house on Fifth Street and wait for him to show up.

  The question was burning inside my head. What was everybody who was looking for Kyle missing? What did he want — more than anything else? What motivated him? Who was on Kyle's vicious hit list — besides me?

  Kyle wanted to exert his will, but he also craved the most exquisite and forbidden pleasures. What had moved him in the past was sex, rape, money — millions of dollars — revenge against those he hated.

  I finally went to bed at one-thirty, but surprise, surprise, I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing Kyle's face every time I shut my eyes. His look was smug and confident. He was the most arrogant human being I had ever met. Possibly the most evil. I thought about all our times together, all our long, philosophical talks, anything I could remember. I turned on the bedside light and scribbled more notes. Kyle was methodical and logical, but then he could surprise me with a tactic or strategy completely off the charts. I thought about the raid in Santa Cruz. The vampire murders seemed long ago already. He had wanted me there — so that I could see him be the hero. That was the whole point, wasn't it? He needed me to see how good he was. He wanted to take down Peter Westin by himself.

  Suddenly, a question popped into my head. A really good one.

  Where had he been unable to exert his will?

  What were Kyle's darkest fantasies? What were his daydreams? His secret desires? Where had he been thwarted in the past?

  The worst was yet to come, wasn't it? He was only starting with Zach and Liz Taylor. Was he about to go on a bloody rampage?

  And then I recalled a particular fantasy that Kyle had shared with me one night after we had finished one of our worst cases. I remembered something he'd said, and couldn't get it out of my head.

  I snatched up the phone and began to dial long-distance. I hoped that I wasn't already too late. I thought I knew who he was going to kill next.

  Oh no, Kyle. Oh God, no!

  Chapter 112

  Maybe I was just going crazy. I drove for nearly six hours on I-95, headed to Nags Head, North Carolina. I kept nervously changing radio stations to keep myself alert. I was thinking that Kyle didn't want this to end — he was having too much fun; he was in his glory.

  I had been in this part of North Carolina before, with Kate McTiernan. So had Kyle. We were trying to stop a sadistic killer named Casanova. He had kept as many as eight women captive in the woods near Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Kyle had been on our team, or so I had believed. But Kyle had also been Casanova's partner in murder. I knew that much was true.

  I made it to the Outer Banks just before night fell. As I drove toward the ocean, I remembered odd things: the sticky buns from the Nags Head Market; my long walks with Kate McTiernan along Coquina Beach; the lovely, almost super-naturally picturesque beaches in Jockey's Ridge State Park. I remembered how much I admired Kate. We were still good friends, talked at least twice a month. She sent my kids imaginative presents on their birthdays and Christmas. She was working at the Regional Medical Center in Kitty Hawk and living with a local bookseller she was going to marry. Their home was in Nags Head, only a couple of miles away.

  Kyle had a deep, obvious crush on Kate McTiernan. He'd hinted at it: "I could love that girl if I didn't have Louise and the kids. Maybe I should dump them for Kate. She could make me a happy man. Kate could save me."

  He had come to visit Kate in Nags Head. I think he'd come to watch her. It bothered him that he couldn't have her, that he had been deniedKate McTiernan. He also knew how much Kate meant to me.

  Kyle was here, wasn't he? Or he was coming.

  I had warned Kate, but on the drive down I called again and explicitly told her to get the hell out of Nags Head. I didn't care how much karate she knew, or how many black belts she had accumulated. I was going to stay at her place. I thought that Kyle might be coming too. I didn't think he wanted to watchanymore. If he was coming here, he wanted to kill Kate.

  I took a deep breath as I finally drove into town. It all looked so familiar, serene and beautiful, like nothing bad should ever happen in Nags Head.

  The worst is yet to come, I kept thinking. That's why he killed Zach and Liz Taylor first. He set up his pattern with them. The Taylors were just the beginning. A warning of things to come.

  I drove down a narrow paved road that weaved its way alongside windblown sand dunes. I was looking for any sign of Kyle. Number 1021 was a two-story clapboard beach house directly across from the ocean. Very quaint and stylish, very Kate McTiernan. If Kyle got to her, I would never forgive myself.

  A Scottish flag was flying above the rooftop, and that was pure McTiernan too. As I had requested, her six-year-old Volvo was parked in the driveway; the house lights were on, shining like beacons to guide me — and maybe Kyle as well.

  It made it look like somebody was home, and now somebody was.

  Everything felt surreal to me. My nervous system was spiking. My hairs were standing on end. I had a sixth sense that Kyle was nearby. I just knew it, felt it in every inch of my body. Was he, though? Or was I just crazy? I wasn't sure which outcome would be worse.

  I drove my car inside the garage and pulled down the heavy wooden door. There was a cold spot at the center of my chest. I was having difficulty catching a breath. Or thinking in a straight line.

  Then I went inside Kate McTiernan's house. My sense of balance was off. I was listing to the right.

  The telephone started to ring.

  I pulled out my Glock and looked around the kitchen for Kyle. I didn't see anything. Not yet.

  Where was he?

  The worst is yet to come.

  Was I ready for it this time?

  Chapter 113

  I picked up the jangling phone, then hit my knee hard against the kitchen table.

  "I've been looking all over for you, Alex." Kyle was so very calm and cocksure. He had no conscience, no guilt whatsoever. His arrogance was stunning to me, even now. I wished he were here, so I could pound his face.

  "Well, I guess you found me. Congratulations. I can't hide from you. You're so impressive. You are the Mastermind, Kyle."

  "You know, I am. You had me concerned, worried there, partner. I wanted to say good-bye in a proper and civil fashion. I'm leaving after this little adventure of ours is ended. It's almost over. Whew. Isn't that a relief?"

  "Want to tell me where you are?" I asked him.

  He paused for a half second, and I could feel a fast river of adrenaline rushing through me. My legs were unsteady. Suddenly I was afraid of what Kyle might have already done.

  "I suppose it couldn't hurt to tell you. Let me think about it. Hmmm. There's blood everywhere, Alex. I will tell you that much. It's stunning, a masterpiece of carnage. I've outdone myself this time. Outdone Gary Soneji, Shafer, Casanova. This is my best work. I think it is, and I should know. I'm very objective about these things, but of course you know that."

  My heart was pounding and I felt dizzy. I could feel the blood rushing from my brain. I steadied myself against the kitchen counter. "Where, Kyle? Tell me where you are. Where the hell are you?"

  "Perhaps I'm at your aunt Tia's outside Bal'more," he said. Then he laughed like a madman. "Chapel Gate. Such a pretty little town."

  A moan escaped from my mouth and my knees buckled. I flashed an image of my family — Nana, Jannie, Damon, Alex. I needed to be there with them. How could he have gotten past the FBI teams? And Sampson? He couldn't have. It wasn't possible. "You're lying, Kyle."

  "Oh, am I, now? Why would I lie? Think about it. What would be the point?"

  The worst is yet to come. I needed to call Tia's. I should never have left them.

  I heard a terrifying high-pitched scream above me in the kitchen. What in hell?

  I looked up. Couldn't believe my eyes. Kyle leaped out of the trapdoor to the attic. He was still screaming. He had an ice pick clasped in his right hand, cell phone in the left.

  I tried to get an arm up to shield myself. I wasn't fast enough. He'd taken me by surprise. I hadn't thought to look up there.

  He plunged the pick at an odd angle into my chest. A shock of pain traveled through me. I went down hard on the kitchen floor. Had he struck my heart? Was I going to die? Was this the way it ended?

  With his free hand, Kyle punched me in the face. I felt bone crunch. The left side of my face seemed to have caved in.

  Kyle raised his fist to strike again. He was madman strong and he wanted to punish me, didn't he? I was such an important character in his fantasy. He was so sick, so insane. I couldn't believe the things he'd done.

  A voice inside screamed, Take him out; find a way!

  A second hard punch glanced off the side of my forehead. I had moved just enough to make him miss. I was in a living nightmare. The stainless handle of the ice pick was sticking out of my chest.

  I grabbed the hood and collar of Kyle's windbreaker with one hand, his black hair with the other. I yanked him sideways, got him off me for a moment.

  Somehow I managed to get up and pull Kyle with me. We were both grunting, gasping loudly for breath. I felt myself getting weaker. Blood was spreading on my shirt from the wound.

  Still, I spun him around and pushed him headfirst right into Kate's well-organized glass-fronted kitchen cabinet. It shattered on impact. Splinters of glass and wood flew everywhere.

  I pulled his head back out of the cabinet, cutting Kyle's face on nasty shards of the glass. I wanted to hurt him too. For Betsey Cavalierre, for Zachary Taylor and his wife, for all the others he had murdered along the way. So many dead at the hands of this heartless monster. The Mastermind. Kyle Craig.

  He screamed, "My eyes! My eyes!" I'd hurt him — finally.

  I crunched a looping roundhouse right into Kyle's forehead. I moved in closer. I hit him again and again, then I held him up so I could hit him some more. I wouldn't let him go down. I kept body-punching Kyle Craig, body-punishing him. I don't know where I got the strength. I wanted to keep hitting Kyle, for everything he'd done: the murders, the cruel betrayals, stalking me all this time, the terrible hurt he'd inflicted on my family and on other families like mine.

  He was out on his feet, so I finally let him drop to the kitchen floor. I stood over the unconscious body, exhausted, winded, afraid, and in pain. Now what? I felt as if I weren't myself anymore. Who was I? What was I becoming? What had all the brutal murders I'd seen done to me?

  I stepped away from the body crumpled on the floor. The spike of the ice pick was still embedded in my chest. It had to come out. I knew I couldn't, shouldn't, do it myself. I needed to get to a hospital. Maybe Dr. Kate McTiernan would take care of me.

  I made a phone call. A very important call.

  This was just the beginning, wasn't it? Sure it was.

  The Mastermind and I were alone at last. We had so much to talk about. I'd been waiting so long for this, and maybe, so had he.

  Chapter 114

  It was a hollow feeling to stand over Kyle and realize that I had no idea who he really was. He was an obsessively cruel psychopath, he had been stalking me for years, he had killed so many times, including friends of mine. "You fucking bastard," I whispered through my teeth.

  The first case we had worked on together was a double kidnapping in Washington. I had written a book about it, and Kyle was a character in Along Came a Spider. Later, he cleared the way for me to help in the investigation of a kidnapper-killer who called himself Casanova and who worked in the Research Triangle around the University of North Carolina and Duke. That was when we had first met Kate McTiernan. Kyle kept me close to him after that. He was the one responsible for my getting named as the VICAP liaison between the FBI and the Washington Police Department. I didn't know why at the time. Now I did.

  He was conscious now. A mocking, falsely sympathetic look crossed his face. His eyes leveled me as he spoke. "I know, I know how it hurts. You thought we were close; you thought we were friends."

  I didn't say anything, just looked into cold eyes. What did I see there? Nothing except for his hatred and disdain. He was incapable of feeling guilt, or especially compassion.

  Then Kyle smirked, and I wanted to hit him again. He began to laugh. What was the joke? What did he know? What else had he done?

  He started to clap his hands together. "Very good, Alex. You're still studying me, aren't you? You should bear in mind, I did beat you every time."

  "Except this time," I reminded him. "This time you lost."

  "Oh, are you so sure?" he asked. "Are you positive that you have the upper hand, partner? How can you be certain? You can't be."

  "I'm sure. Partner. I do have a few questions. Clear some things up for me. You know what I want to hear about."

  He continued to smirk. Of course he knew. "North Carolina. You suspected me for a while because I had attended Duke with the Gentleman Caller. Very good, Alex. I knew both him and Casanova. God, did I know them. I killed with them, hunted with them. But you let me off the hook, Detective Cross. Then there were the perfect bank robberies. The Mastermind at work. And, of course, I did kill the lovely Betsey Cavalierre. Great fun. That one's on you, Alex."