“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 Dunne and Michael Goldberg. They knew about the manhunt for Kyle but hadn’t been concerned for their own safety. Now they were.
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 planning to marry later this year. “He likes to ruin other people’s happiness,” I told Naomi. “Be careful. I know you will be.”
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 Craig was 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