James Patterson - Double Cross

“Do you know what the hell is going on out there in the real world?” I finally said. “Do you have any interest in seeing someone like that murderer stopped?”

“Of course I do,” he snapped back. “Stop insulting my intelligence and think about it for a second. The big picture ? Constitutional rights-your rights, my rights-hinge on exactly this kind of thing. I have the right to do everything I did, and I don’t just mean that morally. It’s your job to uphold the Constitution, Detectives, and it’s our job, as citizens, to make sure that you do. See how it works?”

“See how this works?” Sampson lunged, but we caught him in time. Everything on one side of Thompson’s desk went flying.

Brady stood up, a bit brazen even, as Sampson stared at him. “I think we’re done here,” he said.

But Sampson wasn’t. “You know what -”

“Yes,” Bree said. “We’re done, Brady. For the moment, anyway. We’re leaving.”

As we turned to go, Thompson spoke again, more conciliatory than before. “Detectives? You obviously think my little posting is real or you wouldn’t be here. Will you just tell me if it has something to do with the iconography?” This guy was a true fan, a real freak. He couldn’t help himself, could he?

Bree couldn’t help herself either. With the door halfway open and a small crowd of office workers gathered behind her, she turned to face Braden Thompson.

“I can’t comment on that, sir. Not at this time. But let me reassure you that we won’t mention your Web site, SerialTimes.net, anywhere outside this office unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Bree smiled at Braden Thompson, then lowered her voice. “Keep on living, fucker.”

PISSED OFF AT THE WORLD in general, and at Braden Thompson in particular, the three of us showed up at the Daly Building. We didn’t get very far before Superintendent Davies headed us off. “Over here,” he barked, then turned and walked back to his office. “The three of you, now .”

We looked at one another, not liking the vibe.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to get detention and miss football practice?” Sampson muttered.

“Yeah,” Bree said, “and cheerleading practice too. Oh, wait, I wasn’t ever a cheerleader.”

Bree and I wiped the smirks off our faces before we went in.

“Can you explain this ?” Davies flipped a newspaper around on his desk.

There was a story above the fold in the Post ’s metro section, “Audience Killer Copycat Theory Surfaces.”

I wasn’t surprised by the headline so much as reminded about how fast these stories can spread and get out to the press.

Bree answered for the group. “We just learned about it this morning ourselves. Even right now we’re coming from -”

“Don’t give me a lot of explanations, Detective Stone. In my book, that’s only a step up from an excuse. Just do something about it.” He twisted his neck a few times, as if he were trying to undo the pain we’d put there.

“Excuse me, sir,” Bree said. “This isn’t the kind of information we can control. Not once it’s been -”

Davies cut her off again. “I don’t need a lesson in damage control. I need you to take care of the mess. This is Major Case Squad. Your superiors aren’t a safety net. You need to respond to the problems before I ask you to respond to them. Do you understand me?”

“Of course I understand you,” Bree said. “I don’t need a lesson in damage control either. Apparently, neither does DCAK.”

Suddenly, Davies smiled, and it was totally unexpected. “You see why I like her?” he asked Sampson and me.

Yeah, I was pretty sure that I did.

THERE WAS NO NEW PART for DCAK to play today, no gruesome murder planned. So the killer was just being himself. He decided to go online again before dinner, couldn’t resist hearing about himself. And he wasn’t disappointed.

The message boards on the Internet were full of chatter about DCAK! True, much of it was tabloid or fantasy stuff, but that didn’t matter. The point was, they were talking .

SerialTimes didn’t have anything new. Neither did Sicknet or SKcentral. That made sense. His fans were waiting for his next move.

Finally he clicked into a couple of the chats. It was good to be among “his people” at the end of a long day. He even used a first name here, as a “gift” to them. Not that anyone would know that he did, but the contact felt more personal. Besides, he was into dropping clues.

In his honor, of course.

AARON_AARON: What’s up, DCAK lovers?

GINSOAKED: Copycat, duh. Where you been?

AARON_AARON: No shit, duh. What else? Anybody? Anything?

REDRUM5: Been quiet. Busy weekend. He deserves some rest, right? Any day now, bet. Watch his smoke!!!!

DCAK-FAN: How do you know so much?

REDRUM5: I don’t. Just a theory of mine. Just my opinion. Okay with you?

AARON_AARON: Maybe he’s been busy already today.

DCAK-FAN: Busy, like what?

The killer sipped the white wine he’d poured for himself, a nice chardonnay. He deserved it. He didn’t like to brag, but then again, that’s not what this was. More like stepping into the light. Or having a curtain call after a brilliant performance.

AARON_AARON: Okay, what if he copycatted himself? Think about it for a sec.

GINSOAKED: You mean, like, he did the parkway and FedExField and then said he didn’t do it?

AARON_AARON: Yeah, exactly. What if?

GINSOAKED: Freakin’ brill.

ADAMEVE: I’m all over that too.

REDRUM5: No way. Did you read the public file? Any of you?

AARON_AARON: So what? I wouldn’t put it past him. This dude is a total master mindfucker. I’m sure we won’t be able to guess what’s coming next. Hey, by the way, what does everybody think about that dude Kyle Craig getting out of stir early?

DCAK-FAN: K.C. is so yesterday, man. Who cares?

The killer looked up from his computer. He was being summoned.

“Dinner’s ready! Come and get it or I’ll throw it away.”

THE PRESS CONFERENCE SCHEDULED for this afternoon was Bree’s first as lead investigator on a murder case anywhere near this size. She’d spoken with reporters plenty of times, just not a room filled with every media type in the city and several national outlets too-which was what we were expecting today. At least that.

“Will you go up there with me?” she asked. We were working over the prepared statement in her office. “The press knows you, and the public has seen you before. I think it’ll send the right signal to keep things a little calmer.”

I looked up from the draft in front of me. “Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want. Okay, I’m nervous,” Bree said next, surprising me with the admission.

“You’ll do great,” I told her, because I believed it to be true. “Introduce me at the beginning, and then you’ll have a seamless pass-off if there’s anything you want me to take. I’ll just be there for backup.”

Bree finally grinned. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

Right, and isn’t that what got me involved in this mess?

But then she gave me a big hug and whispered, “I love you. And I look forward to paying the debt. I really look forward to that.”

We got to our improvised pressroom at four thirty, plenty of time to make the six o’clock news, which was the whole idea. Every seat was already taken, plus there were reporters and cameras gathered in a U around the perimeter. “Dr. Cross! Detective Stone!” the photographers called out our names, trying to get a good shot.