Kiss the Girls by James Patterson Read Free Book Online

of the ‘crisis team.’ They did send some kinky crackerjack down from their fancy outpost in Sanford.”
    “What do you mean
this entire case?
” I asked Ruskin. Warning alarms were sounding in my head. I thought of Naomi again.
    This is a real bad one.
    Ruskin turned around quickly and looked at me. He had penetrating blue eyes and they seemed to be sizing me up. “Understand we’re not supposed to tell you anything. We’re not authorized to bring you out here either.”
    “I hear what you’re saying,” I said. “I appreciate the help.”
    Once again, Davey Sikes turned and looked at us. I felt as if Sampson and I were on the other team, looking over the line of scrimmage, waiting for the ball snap, the crunch of bodies.
    “We’re on our way to the
third
murder site,” Ruskin went on. “I don’t know who the victim is. Goes without saying that I hope the victim isn’t your niece.”
    “What’s this case all about? Why all the mystery?” Sampson asked. He sat forward in his seat. “We’re all cops here. Talk straight to us.”
    The Durham homicide detective hesitated before he answered. “A few women, let’s say
several,
have disappeared in a three-county area—Durham, Chatham, and Orange, which you’re in now. The press has reported a couple of disappearances and two murders so far.
Unrelated
murders.”
    “Don’t tell me the media is actually cooperating with an investigation?” I said.
    Ruskin half smiled. “Not in your wildest wet dreams. They only know what the FBI’s decided to tell them. Nobody’s actually withholding information, but nothing’s being volunteered, either.”
    “You mentioned that several young women have disappeared,” I said. “How many exactly? Tell me about them.”
    Ruskin talked out of the side of his mouth. “We believe eight to ten women are missing. All young. Late teens and early twenties. All students in college or high school. Only two bodies have been found, though. The one we’re going to see could make three. All the bodies were discovered in the last five weeks. The Feebies think we’re in the middle of what could be one of the worst kidnapping and murder sprees ever in the South.”
    “How many FBI in town?” Sampson asked. “Squad? Battalion?”
    “They’re here in full force. They have ‘evidence’ that the disappearances extend beyond state lines—Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia, down into Florida. They think our friendly squirrel abducted a Florida State cheerleader at this year’s Orange Bowl. They call him ‘The Beast of the Southeast.’ It’s as if he’s invisible. He’s in control of the situation right now. Calls himself Casanova… believes he’s a great lover.”
    “Did Casanova leave mash notes at the murder scenes?” I asked Ruskin.
    “Just at the last one. He seems to be coming out of his shell. He wants to communicate now. Bond with us. He told us he was Casanova.”
    “Were any of the victims black women?” I asked Ruskin. One trait of repeat killers was that they tended to choose their victims along racial grounds. All white. All black. All Spanish. Not too much mixing, as a rule.
    “One other missing girl is black. Student from North Carolina Central University. Two bodies we found were white. All the women who’ve disappeared are
extremely
attractive. We have a bulletin board up with pictures of the missing girls. Somebody gave the case a name: ‘Beauties and the Beast.’ It’s on the board in big letters. Right over the pictures. That’s another handle we have for the case.”
    “Does Naomi Cross fit his pattern?” Sampson asked quietly. “Whatever the crisis team has established so far?”
    Nick Ruskin didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t tell if he was thinking about it, or just trying to be considerate.
    “Is Naomi’s picture up on the FBI bulletin board? The Beauties and the Beast board?” I asked Ruskin.
    “Yes, it is.” Davey Sikes finally spoke. “Her picture is on the big