Alex Cross 02 - Kiss the Girls by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page B

at this time. Birds and animals had
     been feasting on her, and she almost didn’t look human anymore. There were no fixed, staring eyes, just dark sockets like
     burn marks. She didn’t have a face; the skin and tissue had been eaten away.
    “Who the hell are these two?” one of the FBI agents, a heavyset blond woman in her early thirties, asked Ruskin. She was as
     unattractive as she was unpleasant, with puffy red lips and a bulbous, hooked nose. At least she’d spared us the usual FBI
     happy-camper smile, or the FBI’s famous “smiling handshake.”
    Nick Ruskin was brusque with her. His first endearing moment for me. “This is Detective Alex Cross, and his partner, Detective
     John Sampson. They’re down here from D.C. Detective Cross’s niece is missing from Duke. She’s Naomi Cross. This is Special
     Agent in Charge Joyce Kinney.” He introduced the agent to us.
    Agent Kinney frowned, or maybe it was a scowl. “Well, this is certainly not your niece here,” she said.
    “I’d appreciate it if the two of you would return to the cars. Please do that.” She felt the need to go on. “You have no authority
     on this case, and no right to be here, either.”
    “As Detective Ruskin just told you, my niece is missing.” I spoke softly, but firmly, to Special Agent Joyce Kinney. “That’s
     all the authority I need. We didn’t come down here to admire the leather interior and instrument panel of Detective Ruskin’s
     sports car.”
    A thick-chested blond man in his late twenties briskly stepped up beside his boss. “I think y’all heard Special Agent Kinney.
     I’d appreciate it if you leave now,” he announced. Under different circumstances, his over-the-top response might have been
     funny. Not today. Not at this massacre scene.
    “No way
you’re
going to stop us,” Sampson said to the blond agent in his darkest, grimmest voice. “Not you. Not your Dapper Dan friends
     here.”
    “That’s fine, Mark.” Agent Kinney turned to the younger man. “We’ll deal with this later,” she said. Agent Mark backed off,
     but not without a major-league scowl, much like the one I’d gotten from his boss. Both Ruskin and Sikes laughed as the agent
     backed down.
    We were allowed to stay with the FBI and the local police contingent at the crime scene.
Beauties and the Beast.
I remembered the phrase Ruskin had used in the car. Naomi was up on the Beast board. Had the dead woman been on the board
     as well?
    It had been hot and humid and the body was decomposing rapidly. The woman had been badly attacked by forest animals, and I
     hoped that she was already dead before they came. Somehow, I didn’t think so.
    I noted the unusual position of the body. She was lying on her back. Both her arms appeared to have been dislocated, perhaps
     as she twisted and struggled to free herself from the leather bonds and the tree behind her. It was as vicious a sight as
     I had ever seen on the streets of Washington or anywhere else. I felt almost no relief that this wasn’t Naomi.
    I eventually talked up one of the FBI’s forensic people. He knew a friend of mine at the Bureau, Kyle Craig, who worked out
     of Quantico in Virginia. He told me that Kyle had a summer house in the area.
    “This shitheel’s real savvy, real smooth, if nothing else.” The FBI forensic guy liked to talk. “He hasn’t left pubic hairs,
     semen, or even traces of perspiration on either of the victims I’ve examined. I surely doubt if we’ll find much here to give
     us a DNA profile. At least he didn’t eat her himself.”
    “Does he have sex with the victims?” I asked before the agent went on a tangent about his experiences with cannibalism.
    “Yeah, he does.
Somebody
had repeated sex with them.
Lots
of vaginal bruises and tears. Bugger’s well equipped, or he uses something large to simulate sex. But he must wear a cellophane
     body bag when he does it. Or he dusts them somehow. No pubes, no trace of body fluid yet. The forensic