Violets Are Blue

“This probably goes back to the days of the Kiss the Girls case. Maybe before it. You know that Kyle was an undergrad at Duke University. He knew Will Rudolph—the Gentleman Caller—from his student days at Duke. During the case, Kyle may have been responsible for the death of a reporter named Beth Lieberman with the
L.A. Times
. She was closing in on Will Rudolph.”
    I shut my eyes and shook my head. I had helped solve the “Kiss” case. I knew that Kyle had attended Duke, but not about his relationship with the Gentleman Caller, a killer who had terrorized L.A. I had briefly suspected Kyle in the case, but his alibis held up perfectly. Of course they had.
    “Why didn’t you talk to me?” I asked Burns. I was trying to understand the FBI’s position. So far, I couldn’t.
    “We didn’t begin to really suspect Kyle until the murder of Betsey Cavalierre. We had no proof, even then. We weren’t sure if he was a possible killer or the best agent in the Bureau.”
    “Jesus, Ron, we could have talked. We should have talked. Well, he’s on the run now. You should have told me. I hope you’re telling me everything now.”
    “Alex, you know what we know. Maybe more. I hope you’re telling
us
everything.”
    After I finished with Burns, I called Sampson in Washington. I told him the latest, and it blew John’s mind. He had moved Nana and the kids out of our house on Fifth Street. Only he and I knew where they were now.
    “Everything okay there?” I asked. “Everybody settled in all right?”
    “Are you fucking kidding, Alex? Nana is pissed off like I’ve never seen her before. If Kyle Craig came after her, I’d put my money on Nana. The kids are cool, though. They don’t know what’s happening, but they’ve guessed it isn’t good.”
    I cautioned him again. “Don’t leave them for a minute, not a second, John. I’m coming back to Washington on the next flight. I don’t know how Kyle could trace you there, but don’t underestimate him. He’s loose. He’s very dangerous. For some reason, he wants to hurt me, and maybe my family. If I can figure out why that is, maybe I can stop him.”
    “And if not?” Sampson asked.
    I let the question hang.

Chapter 102

    I HAD to say good-bye to Jamilla Hughes again, and each time it was a little harder. We’d been through so much together in such a short time. I made her promise to be extremely careful, even paranoid, for the next few days. She promised. Then finally I got on a plane out of San Francisco International.
    The mysterious phone calls had finally stopped, but that was scary and unsettling too. I didn’t know where Kyle was, or what he was doing.
    Was he still watching me? Had he somehow followed me back to Washington? I shouldn’t have been entertaining thoughts like that, but I was, and I couldn’t stop them from coming.
    Did he have binoculars focused on me as I walked up the sidewalk to my Aunt Tia’s house in Chapel Gate, Maryland, about fifteen miles from Baltimore? How could Kyle know I was here? Why, because that’s what he did for a living. Could he get past Sampson and me? I didn’t think so. But how could I know with complete certainty?
    The kids were enjoying their short vacation from school. Aunt Tia had always spoiled them, just as she had spoiled me as a kid. “Same old, same old” she likes to say when she serves you a piece of hot pie in the middle of the afternoon, or gives you an unexpected present. Nana was more understanding than I thought she would be. I think she liked being with her “little sister.” Tia was younger than Nana, “only seventy-eight,” but she was spry, very contemporary in her outlook, and she was a fabulous cook. That night, she and Nana made penne with gorgonzola cheese, broccoli rabe, and sock-it-to-me cake. I ate as if it were my last meal.
    Then the kids and I played and talked until the outrageous hour of eleven o’clock, way past their usual bedtimes. They are by no means perfect, but the good times with them certainly outweigh the bad. I tend to talk more about the good, and why not? I’m a father and I love Damon, Jannie, and little Alex more than life itself. Maybe that says something too.
    I went back to Washington the following morning. A team of FBI agents had been assigned to my family. It was the kind of attention I’d hoped we would never need. Frankly, it scared the hell out of me.
    That afternoon, I attended a meeting at the FBI building and learned that more than