“I’ve had patients that keep me up at night, too. You keep running the facts and the suppositions and the ideas over and over in your mind, hoping that if you just keep examining them you’ll see the pattern. And that’s all you need. The beginning of one solid idea of how it all comes together.”
“Morgan, what is going to get this lunatic to stop?”
“Either he is going to find the magic he is looking for-which is unlikely-or you are going to have to stop him.”
From the expression of Noah’s face, it looked as if he thought the magic was a more likely scenario.
“I have to ask you something,” he said.
I nodded.
“It’s about the Diablo Cigar Bar-”
“I am not going to talk about Cleo,” I interrupted.
“I am not going to ask you to. I want to know about you. I want to know why you’re going there. What are you doing, Morgan?”
How did he know? It took only me a second to realize. It was how he’d known exactly when I’d arrived home the other night. “Are you having me followed?”
“For your own protection.”
“This consultation is over, Detective.” I stood up, and without saying another word, walked toward the door.
“Don’t. Don’t misinterpret it. I’m worried about you. You could be in the middle of something much more dangerous than you know if these two cases are connected. I just have someone making sure you’re okay, that’s all.”
I turned and looked back at him. “No, it’s not all. You’re smarter than that. You think there is a connection, don’t you? But you’re not telling me about it. You’re treating me like a novice who needs special handling.”
“I am treating you like someone who might be in danger. I don’t want anything to happen to you. How could I live with that on top of everything else that’s going on?”
“Cleo is my patient. This all matters more to me than it does to anyone in the fucking NYPD. She isn’t just a statistic, not just another missing person. This is a woman I sat across a room from for hours and hours and listened while she talked-opened up to me-about her secrets and her dreams and her problems. I watched her cry, Noah. Saw her wring her hands. What I do about trying to help her boyfriend find her is not something I need to be lectured about.”
“I’m sorry. I really am.”
I didn’t say anything. The last thing I had expected from him was such a sincere apology. Hell, I hadn’t expected any apology at all. But as unexpected as it was, something about it didn’t surprise me all that much.
“Will you sit down, please?” he asked.
“Will you call off your watchdogs?”
“No. I’m protecting you, Morgan. Not spying on you.”
“Then don’t ask me about why I’ve gone to the club.”
“I won’t ask you. But you know you should tell me. I’m no shrink, but I have eyes, too. And you look as tired as I do. And just as worried. And you even look a little guilty. But we’ll put that aside for now, okay?”
I nodded, not wanting to think too much about what he’d just said, neither the insight it exhibited nor the way his concern made me feel. No, now was not a good time to think about either of those things.
“One thing you can do for me,” I said.
“Okay.”
“Cleo wore a tiny diamond cross on her neck. Normally it wouldn’t be the kind of thing that would be easy to track down. Except it was made of pink diamonds, which are extremely expensive. I’m not sure…maybe it’s a long shot…but it’s a cross, Noah. Maybe you can find out what stores sell pink-diamond crosses. Maybe you can find out who bought one. Maybe there is a connection.”
It seemed, at least for the moment, that I’d succeeded in taking his mind off me. And mine off him.
37
“You understand that this is a sin?” he asked the young woman whose brown eyes followed his every move, never looking away for a second.
“You understand that I am washing you of your sins?”
He did not need her answer. He knew. He could feel the silt and filth washing off her. “Can you feel your sins sloughing off like dead cells?”
Of course she was frightened, but once she got beyond her fear, he knew she would be grateful for his attention and ministrations. Once she was new again. “You don’t need to be afraid. I am not doing this to hurt you.” But despite his words, the expression in his eyes did not soften.
He leaned back, away from the tub, looking at her naked body sitting in the shallow pool of water. There was sweat on his upper lip and at his hairline. Under his arms. The backs of his knees. He was naked, too. To keep his suit from getting wet and wrinkled.
The hot, hot water had turned the marble bathroom into a steam room, but he did not temper the water coming from the tap. It had to be this hot. If there was any way to use boiling water he would have. He needed it to destroy the bacteria. To kill the living filth.
The duct tape on her mouth pulled her skin into an unnatural grimace. He hated this need to silence her, but he knew better than to trust her. Her simple mind could not rise to meet his. No matter how carefully he might explain it, she would never be able to comprehend that this was for her own good.
For her own good.
For her own goodness.
Her skin was bright red now, and there was sweat all over her face. Tiny droplets that looked like translucent pearls. She deserved to look beautiful. She was giving herself to a great cause. Her sacrifice would help other women. He whispered this to her, but it did not calm her.
Enough of trying to make her understand and appreciate what he was doing. The time was coming for the next step. Just a few more minutes of the ritual bath-the christening that was cleansing her-and then he would be ready. The adrenaline surged through him. He knew it would work this time. He’d never gotten this far before.
The water smelled of the expensive liquid soap the hotel offered to all guests. He inhaled its sweetness as he rubbed the washcloth down her neck. Down her back. Around her shoulders, under her breasts.
“We’re almost done,” he said. “You should be clean now.”
But was she? How could he really know? It wasn’t surface dirt on her skin he was after. It was deep underneath. The filth had been in her. And he was sure he had sensed it, smelled it; she had been stinking of the dirt deposited on her, inserted in her by the men she had been with.
Yes, she needed this. This cleansing. She would thank him.
If only he knew how clean was clean enough.
After he’d been at it for another ten minutes, he pulled her out of the tub and lay her down on the bathroom floor, then stared at her naked body. At the long neck and full breasts and nipples the color of faded roses.
She was so beautiful, she had been given so much and yet she had abused and defiled her body. She had taken this body that God had given her and she had given it away and ruined herself.
He began to shave her. Carefully. He didn’t mind blood. But blood in the right way at the right time.
And that time hadn’t come yet.
Her frightened eyes went to the erection between his legs.
“It’s only a temporary aberration,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. “I won’t abuse you. My job is not to violate you further, but to restrain myself and do my job.”
That was his sacrifice to make. Just as she would make hers.
He blew on her pubis, and the short, curly hair flew away, leaving the three-dimensional tattoo. It was the best one yet. A perfect cross. Jesus died for our sins. But he left behind so many sinners.
So far he hadn’t accomplished his goal. He hadn’t found the formula. But he was not searching for some mythological alchemy. He was certain this transformation was possible. He knew what had gone wrong. Until tonight he had not cleansed the women properly.
He had forgotten how Jesus had washed the feet of the sinners. How could he have forgotten that? It was the most basic of Catholic rituals. The first one. Spilling the water on the baby and anointing its forehead, the baptism.