Violets are Blue

That afternoon, I attended a meeting at the FBI building and learned that more than four hundred agents were assigned to finding and capturing Kyle Craig. So far, nothing had gotten out to the press, and Director Burns wanted to keep it that way. So did I. More than that, I wanted to catch Kyle quickly, hopefully before he killed again.

But who would he kill? Who might Kyle go after next?

Chapter 103

"Christine, it's Alex," I said. I had butterflies in my stomach. "I hate to bother you like this. It's important or I wouldn't call." That was sure the truth. God, I hadn't wanted to make this call.

"Is little Alex okay?" she asked. "Is it Nana?"

"No, no. Everybody's fine." I told a half-truth.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Christine and I had been engaged to be married. She was the one who had broken it off, because she couldn't handle my life as a homicide detective. Too many bad scenes just like this one.

"Alex, this isn't good news, is it? Geoffrey Shafer? Is he back in the country?" she asked. She sounded afraid, and I felt for her. Geoffrey Shafer had kidnapped her.

"No, this isn't about Shafer."

I told her about Kyle Craig. She knew him, liked Kyle, and I could tell she felt violated. She had been hurt badly by the monsters I had met in my work. She couldn't completely forgive me for that, and I didn't blame her much. I couldn't forgive myself sometimes. Talking to Christine made me remember how much I'd loved her. Probably, I still did.

"Is there somewhere safe you can stay for a while? It's important that you go there," I finally said. "I hate to do this to you. Kyle is extremely dangerous, Christine."

"Oh, Alex. I came out here to be safe. I felt I was safe, but now you're back in my life."

She said she would stay with somebody she trusted, a friend. I asked Christine not to say who or where it was over the phone. When she hung up, she was crying. I felt so bad for her, so terrible about what had happened. The call brought back everything that was wrong between us.

I called Jamilla next. My excuse was that I wanted to remind her to be careful — even now. But I think I just wanted to talk to her. She'd been in on so much of this. Unfortunately, she was out when I called. I left a message that I was worried about her, and to please be careful.

I kept calling people I cared about. I talked to everyone I could think of who had had some contact with Kyle.

I warned a couple detective friends — Rakeem Powell and Jerome Thurman, who were still on the D.C. force. I doubted Kyle would come after them, but I didn't know for sure.

I phoned my chief contact at the Washington Post, a writer named Zachary Scott Taylor. Zach was also one of my best friends in Washington. He wanted to interview me, but I told Zach not to come. Kyle was jealous of the stories Zach had written about me. He had told me as much. For whatever reason, he didn't like Zach.

"This is serious," I told Zach. "Don't underestimate how crazy this man is. You're on his shit list, and that's a bad place to be."

I spoke to FBI agents Scorse and Reilly, who had worked with me on the kidnapping of Maggie Rose Du

I called my niece Naomi, who'd been kidnapped by Casanova. Naomi was practicing law in Jacksonville, Florida. She was living with a good guy named Seth Samuel Taylor. They were pla

I called Kate McTiernan in North Carolina. I remembered the meal she'd had with Kyle and me. Had it meant anything more than what it had seemed to on the surface? Who knew with Kyle? Kate promised to be extra careful, and reminded me that she was a third-degree black belt now. Kyle had always liked Kate, and I reminded her of that. Actually, the more I talked to Kate, the more worried I was about her. "Don't take any chances, Kate. Kyle is the craziest person I've ever met."

I contacted Sandy Greenberg, a good friend at Interpol who had worked with Kyle several times. She was shocked to learn that Kyle was a murderer. She promised to be extra careful until he was caught; Sandy also offered to help in any way that she could.

Kyle Craigwas a cold, heartless murderer.

My partner at times, my friend, or so I'd thought.

I still couldn't believe it. Not completely. I tried to make up a possible hit list for Kyle.

1. Myself

2. Nana and the kids

3. Sampson

4. Jamilla

I realized I was making the list from my point of view, not necessarily Kyle's. I tried another list.

1. Kyle's family — every member

2. Myself — and my family

3. Director Burns of the FBI

4. Jamilla

5. Kate McTiernan

I sat in my empty house on Fifth Street and wondered what the hell he would do next. It was driving me crazy; I felt like I was ru

Kyle was capable of anything.

Chapter 104

He finally called again.

"I killed them and I don't feel a thing. Nothing at all. You will, though, Alex. In a way, you're to blame. Nobody but you. I didn't even want to kill them, but I had to do it. That's the way the horror story has to go. It's out of control now. I'll admit that."

The horrifying confession came at quarter past five in the morning. I had been asleep about three hours when the phone rang. Panic raced through my body. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.

"Who did you kill?" I asked Kyle. "Who? Tell me who it was. Tell me."

"What difference does it make? They're dead, slaughtered. It's someone you care about. There's nothing you can do now — except catch me. I suppose I could help you. Isn't that what you want to hear? Would that make this more interesting for you? Would it make it fair?" He started to laugh uncontrollably. Christ, I had never known him to lose control.

I let him go on. Inflated his ego. That's what he wanted and needed, wasn't it?

Who had Kyle killed? Oh God, whowas dead? Itwas more than one person— slaughtered.

"We always worked as a team. In a way, it would be my crowning moment — to catch myself. I've thought about it, actually. Fantasized. What better challenge could there be? I can't think of one. Me against myself." He started to laugh again.

I had to force myself not to ask again who he had murdered. It would just make Kyle angry. He might hang up. Still, my mind was grinding. I was incredibly afraid. Christine? Kate? Jamilla?

Someone at the FBI? Who? Oh God, who was it? Have some mercy, have pity. Show me that you're human, you bastard.

"I'm not a highly trained psychologist like yourself, but here's one amateur's theory, anyway," Kyle said. "I think this whole rage thing might be about sibling rivalry. Could it be? You know, Alex, I had a younger brother. He came along at the height of my Oedipus complex, when I was a mere lad of two. He displaced me with my mother and father. Check into it, Alex. Consult with Quantico. Could be important."

He was so calm, and he was ridiculing me — as a detective and as a psychologist.

My hands were starting to shake. I'd had enough. "Who did you kill this time?" I yelled into the phone. "Who is it?"

Kyle broke my heart. He told me about the murders he'd just committed in great detail. I was certain that he was telling the truth.

Then he hung up, even as I cursed him to hell.

Minutes later I was in my car, bleary eyed, numb, rushing across Washington to the terrible murder scene.