How very sad, Rudolph thought.
How droll.
During his year in California, Will Rudolph had remembered all too well the searing loneliness he had experienced as a boy. He’d grown up at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, then in Asheville. He was a bird colonel’s boy, an army brat, a true son of the South. Right from the beginning, he had been clever enough to keep up a façade: honor student; polite, helpful, social graces to beat all. The perfect gentleman. No one had guessed the truth about his desires and needs… which was exactly why the loneliness had been so unbearable.
He knew when the loneliness had ended. Exactly when and where. He remembered the first dizzying meeting with Casanova. It had taken place right on the Duke campus, and it was a dangerous meeting for both of them.
The Gentleman remembered the scene so well. He had a small room, like any other student on campus. Casanova had shown up one night well past midnight, closer to two. Scared the shit out of him.
He seemed so sure of himself when Rudolph opened the door and saw him there. There was a theatrical suspense movie called Rope. The scene reminded him of the movie.
“You going to invite me in? I don’t think you want what I have to say broadcast out here in a public hallway.”
Rudolph had let him in. Shut the door. His heart was thundering.
“What do you want? It’s almost two in the morning. Christ.”
The smile again. So cocksure. Knowing. “You killed Roe Tierney and Thomas Hutchinson. You were stalking her for over a year. You have a loving remembrance of Roe right here in this room. Her tongue, I believe.”
It was the most dramatic moment in Will Rudolph’s life. Someone actually knew who he was. Someone had found him out.
“Don’t be frightened. I also know there’s no way they’ll ever prove you committed the murders. You committed perfect crimes. Well, near perfect. Congratulations.”
Acting as well as he could under the circumstances, Rudolph had laughed in his accuser’s face. “You’re completely out of your mind. I’d like you to leave now. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes, it is,” the accuser said, “but you’ve been waiting to hear it all your life…. Let me tell you something else you’ve wanted to hear. I understand what you did and why. I’ve done it myself. I’m a lot like you, Will.”
Rudolph had felt a powerful connection immediately. The first real human connection of his life. Perhaps that was what love was? Did ordinary people feel so much more than he did? Or were they deluding themselves? Creating grandiose romantic fantasies around the mundane exchange of seminal fluids?
He was at his final destination before he knew it. He stopped the car under a towering, old elm and switched off the headlamps. Two black men were standing on the porch of Kate McTiernan’s house.
One of them was Alex Cross.
CHAPTER 91
AT A little past ten, Sampson and I rode down a dark, winding street on the outskirts of Chapel Hill. It had been a long day in the tank for both of us.
I’d taken Sampson to meet Seth Samuel Taylor earlier that evening. We had also spoken to one of Seth’s former teachers, Dr. Louis Freed. I gave Dr. Freed my theory about the “disappearing house”; he agreed to help me with some important research for the investigation on where it might be located.
I hadn’t told Sampson too much about Kate McTiernan yet. It was time for them to meet, though. I didn’t know exactly what our friendship was about, and neither did Kate. Maybe Sampson could add a few thoughts after he saw her. I was sure he would.
“You working late hours like this every night?” Sampson wanted to know as we eased down Kate’s street, Old Ladies Lane, as she called it.
“Until I find Scootchie, or admit that I can’t,” I told him. “Then I plan to take a whole night off.”
Sampson chortled. “You devil, you.”
We hopped out of the car and went to the door. I rang the bell. “No key?” Sampson deadpanned.
Kate flipped on the outdoor light for us. I wondered why she didn’t keep it on all the time. Because she would save five cents a month if she didn’t use the light? Because the light would attract bugs? Because she was stubborn, and maybe wanted another shot at Casanova? That was more like it, knowing Kate the way I was starting to. She wanted Casanova as badly as I did.
She came to the door in an old gray sweatshirt, tattered, holey jeans, bare feet with playfully red toenails. Her dark hair was bobbed at shoulder length, and she looked beautiful. No getting away from that.
“It’s l
ike a damn bughouse out here,” Kate commented as she looked around her porch.
She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I had a thought about the two of us holding each other the night before. Where was this going? I wondered. Did it have to be going anywhere?