Cross

have to remind her to keep quiet.
    He used his hands on her bra and panties, which were black and lacy.
On a weekday, too.
She didn’t wear pantyhose, and her legs were just great, slender and lightly tanned. Toenails painted bright red. When she tried to squeeze her eyes shut, he slapped her just enough to get her full attention.
    “Stay with me, L. Brandt.”
    Something on her dresser caught his eye. Lipstick. “You know what, put some of that on. And a nice perfume. You pick something out.” L. Brandt did as she was told. She knew she had no choice.
    He held his cock in one hand, the scalpel in the other—a visual she would never, ever forget. Then he forced himself inside her. “I want you to play along,” he said. “Fake it if you have to. I’m sure you’ve done that before.” She did her best, arching her pelvis, moaning once or twice, just not looking at him.
    “Now,
look
at me,” he commanded. “Look at me. Look at me.
Look at me.
That’s better.” Then it was over for him. For both of them.
    “A quick chat before I go,” he said. “And, believe it or not, I am planning to leave. I’m not going to hurt you. No more than I already have.”
    He found her purse on the floor. Inside was what he was looking for—a driver’s license and a black address book. He held the license under the bedside lamp.
    “So it’s
Lisa.
Very nice picture for government-issue. Of course, you’re even prettier in real life. Now let me show you a few pictures of my own.”
    He hadn’t brought many, just four of them, but some of his personal favorites. He fanned them out in the palm of one hand. Lisa was back to frozen again. It was almost funny, like if she was still enough, he might not notice her there.
    He held up the photos for her to see—one at a time. “These are all people I’ve met
twice.
You and I, of course, have only met
once.
Whether or not we meet again is entirely up to you. Do you follow? Am I making myself clear?”
    “Yes.”
    He stood up and walked around to her side of the bed, gave her a few seconds to process what he was saying. She covered herself with a sheet. “Do you understand me, Lisa? Truly? I know it can be a little hard to concentrate right now. I imagine it would be.”
    “I won’t say—anything,” she whispered. “I promise.”
    “Good, I believe you,” he said. “Just in case, though, I’m going to take this, too.”
    He held up the address book. Flipped it open to
B.
“Here we go. Tom and Lois Brandt. Is that Mom and Dad? Vero Beach, Florida. Supposed to be very nice down there. The Treasure Coast.”
    “Oh, God, please,” she said.
    “Entirely up to you, Lisa,” he said. “Of course, if you ask me, it would be a shame after all this for you to end up like those others in the photographs. You know—in parts, sewn up. Whatever I was in the mood to do.”
    He lifted up the sheet and looked her over one more time. “They’d be pretty parts in your case, but
parts
all the same.”
    And with those last words, he left Lisa Brandt alone with her memories of him.

Chapter 52
    “THIS IS WHY I DON’T WEAR TIES.”
    John Sampson pulled at the constricting knot around his neck and ripped the damn thing off. He tossed it and what remained of his coffee into the trash. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t thrown away the coffee. He and Billie had been up half the night with little Djakata and her flu. A truckload of caffeine was exactly what he needed right now.
    When the phone on his desk rang, he was in no mood to talk to anybody about anything. “Yeah, what?”
    A woman’s voice came on the other end. “Is this Detective Sampson’s line?”
    “Sampson here. What?”
    “This is Detective Angela Susan Anton. I’m with the Sex Assault Unit, assigned to the Second District.”
    “Okay.” He waited for her to connect some dots for him.
    “I was hoping to pull you in on a disturbing case, Detective. We’re running into some serious dead ends over here.”
    Sampson fished in the wastebasket for the coffee container. All right! It had landed right-side up.
    “What’s the case?”
    “A rape. Happened in Georgetown last night. The woman was treated at GUH, but all she’ll say is that she was attacked. She won’t ID the guy. Won’t describe him at all. I was with her all morning and got nowhere. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, Detective. The level of fear the woman is exhibiting.”
    Sampson crooked the phone to his ear and scribbled some notes on