Violets are Blue

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 ru

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."