James Patterson - Second Honeymoon

After stepping off the elevator on the twenty-second floor, Sarah gave her name to a fresh-faced young woman wearing tortoiseshell glasses and a white cardigan. It was a pretty safe bet that she was the only receptionist in Manhattan who was reading Proust behind her desk.

“Ms. LaSalle is expecting you,” she said. “One moment.”

She buzzed the editor’s office, and within seconds we were following another fresh-faced young woman through a busy hallway, its walls lined with photographs of some of the paper’s more than one hundred Pulitzer Prize winners.

“By the way, I’m Ms. LaSalle’s personal assistant,” she announced over her shoulder.

The tone was confident, but it was also a false front. Her walking-on-eggshells body language as we approached the corner office left little doubt that she was thoroughly intimidated by her boss.

It was easy to see why.

Emily LaSalle, editor of the New York Times wedding section and doyenne of Manhattan high society, was an unsettling one-two punch of prim and proper. Her hair, her makeup, her outfit—complete with a double strand of white pearls—seemed composed. In control.

That is, she seemed in control right up until her personal assistant closed the door and left us alone. That’s when Ms. Prim and Proper basically turned into a puddle.

“I feel so responsible,” she said, tears suddenly streaming down her high cheekbones. “I chose those couples.”

That was silly, of course. It was hardly her fault. Still, I could understand her being distraught. A serial killer was knocking off people on their honeymoons, people who had just one thing in common—they had all been featured in the Vows column.

“You can’t blame yourself,” said Sarah, sounding like her best friend. “What you can do, though, is help us.”

“How?” she asked.

“The past two weekends featured the Pierce and Breslow couples. But the Kellers, the latest ones, actually appeared nearly two months ago,” I said.

“Yes, I remember,” said LaSalle. “They were delaying their honeymoon. Law school graduation, right?”

“Exactly,” said Sarah. “That means there’s a five-week gap between victims. We counted.”

“Or, to put it another way, five weeks of other Vows couples who are still alive,” I said.

“Why do you think they’ve been spared?” asked LaSalle.

“I don’t know. But first, we actually have to make sure that’s the case,” I explained. “At least one of those couples could still be on their honeymoon.”

“Oh, God,” said LaSalle, the reality sinking in.

There was only one thing worse than three dead Vows couples.

Four dead Vows couples.

Chapter 82

“I’VE NEVER SEEN anything so beautiful,” said Melissa Cosmer, approaching the top of Makahiku Falls in Maui’s Haleakalā National Park.

“Me, neither,” said her husband, Charlie Cosmer.

Only he wasn’t looking at the majestic two-hundred-foot waterfall. He was admiring his new bride of barely a week. He’d never felt so lucky, and in love, in his entire life. Melissa was his sun, moon, and stars all in one.

A gift from the heavens, he called her when they were interviewed for the Vows column in the Times.

Charlie’s only regret was that his parents, who had died in a plane crash five years earlier, never got to meet her. A real keeper, his dad would’ve called her. Charlie was sure of it.

“C’mon,” said Melissa, smiling like a devil. “Let’s see how close we can get to the edge.”

She took Charlie’s hand, and the two wove through the thick banyan trees and high grass drenched with mist. Maui’s weather was always spectacular, but on this day nature had really outdone herself. The sky appeared to be an almost neon blue.

Their tour group, and the official path to the waterfall—which they’d taken a slight detour from—was maybe a hundred yards away. It wasn’t a bad tour, the newlyweds thought; it was just a little crowded. Too many fanny-pack tourists. All they wanted was a little alone time amid so much beauty.

“Careful,” said Charlie as the ground began to slope downward toward the edge.

But they were so close to the roar of the water now that they couldn’t hear each other.

“What?” asked Melissa, craning her neck toward him.

Never mind, he thought. He’d just hold on tight to her hand. Better yet, he’d hold on tight to all of her.

With a playful tug, Charlie pulled Melissa into his arms, gazing deep into her eyes for a second before kissing her soft lips. As she kissed him back, the thought seemed to hit them both at the same time.

What a spectacular place to make love.

Slowly, the two made their way down to the grass, never once letting go of each other. So in love, so full of passion.

So caught up in the moment that they didn’t see the man standing behind them.

Chapter 83

COME OUT, COME OUT, wherever you are…

Faruth Passan had all the information he needed about young Charlie and Melissa Cosmer, including a photograph of them. It came straight from the wedding section of the New York Times, a candid shot of the smiling couple on the dance floor during their reception at the St. Regis hotel.

VOWS, said the headline above them.

I know you’re out there, Charlie and Melissa. Where are you hiding?

Faruth kept to the trail previously used by the tour group that the happy honeymooners had ditched. With each step his eyes moved like the second hand of a watch, scanning in a circle, covering every inch of the terrain around him.

They called it Haleakalā National Park, but it was really more like a jungle in most places. The trees, the arching branches, the incredibly lush and green leaves—it was so dense it was almost dizzying.

It was loud, too.

The chirps, squawks, and calls from the more than forty species of birds in the park were relentless, but they were nothing compared to the wall of sound created by the various waterfalls along the route.

As Faruth approached one of the largest, Makahiku, he was already well aware that there was no offshoot from the trail that led to the very top of it.

Of course, that didn’t mean an adventurous young couple wouldn’t give it a shot.

Pushing his way through the banyan trees, Faruth almost gave up and turned around. He was so close to the falls, but that was all he could see.

Wait just a second. Hold on.

Amid the tall grass near the very edge there was something moving. With a few more steps forward he saw what it was. Make that who it was.

Talk about an element of surprise.

Faruth smiled. How could he not? These two don’t have the slightest clue that someone wants to kill them.

Oh, well…

The smile left Faruth’s face as he took a deep breath, his hands hanging at his waist. His fingertips were mere inches from the knife strapped to his belt.

It was time to break the news to Charlie and Melissa.

Their honeymoon was over.

Chapter 84

“YOU’RE NOT GOING to believe this,” said Sarah, hanging up the phone in our makeshift FBI command post, which was really a spare conference room in the New York Times building.

I couldn’t get a read from her face. “Were they found?” I asked.

She broke into a laugh. “Oh, they were found, all right,” she said. “In fact, that was the park ranger himself who did the honors. Turned out the two had ditched the tour group their hotel had arranged for them.”

“So where were they?”

She told me. Including what they were doing when the ranger found them. “Can you imagine?”

I smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

That got me one of those half-amused, half-disapproving looks that women have been perfecting since the Stone Age. “Would it help if I dimmed the lights?” she cracked.