James Patterson - The 5th Horseman

The 5th Horseman

By
James Patterson And Maxine Paetro

Our gratitude and thanks to Dr. Humphrey Germaniuk, ME, Trumbull County, Ohio, for bringing the art and science of forensic pathology to life; to top cop Captain Richard Conklin, Bureau of Investigations, Stamford, Connecticut, P.D.; and to our medical expert, Allen Ross, MD, of Montague, Massachusetts.
We also wish to thank attorneys Philip R. Hoffman, Kathy Emmett, and Marty White for sharing with us their legal expertise.
And special thanks to our excellent researchers, Lynn Colomello, Ellie Shurtleff, Yukie Kito, and the irreplaceable Mary Jordan.
Prologue
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR
Chapter 1
RAIN WAS DRUMMING HARD against the windows when the midnight-to-8:00 rounds began at San FranciscoMunicipalHospital. Inside the ICU, thirty-year-old Jessie Falk was asleep in her hospital bed, floating on a Percocet lake of cool light.
Jessie was having the most beautiful dream shed had in years.
She and the light of her life, three-year-old Claudia, were in Grandmas backyard swimming pool. Claudie was in her birthday suit and bright-pink water wings, slapping the water, sunlight glinting off her blond curls.
Simon says, kiss like a butterfly, Claudie.
Like this, Mommy?
Then the mother and daughter were shouting and laughing, twirling and falling down, singing out wheeeeeee, when without warning a sharp pain pierced Jessies chest.
She awoke with a screambolted uprightand clapped both of her hands to her breast.
What was happening? What was that pain?
Then Jessie realized that she was in a hospitaland that she was feeling sick again. She remembered coming here, the ambulance ride, a doctor telling her that she was going to be fine, not to worry.
Falling, nearly fainting back to the mattress, Jessie fumbled for the call button at her side. Then the device slipped from her grasp and fell. It banged against the side of the bed with a muted clang.
Oh, God, I cant breathe. Whats happening? I cant get my breath. Its horrible. Im not fine.
Tossing her head from side to side, Jessie swept the darkened hospital room with her eyes. Then she seized on a figure at the far edge of her vision.
She knew the face.
Oh, th-thank God, she gasped. Help me, please. Its my heart.
She stretched out her hands, clutched feebly at the air, but the figure stayed in the shadows.
Please, Jessie pleaded.
The figure wouldnt come forward, wouldnt help. What was going on? This was a hospital. The person in the shadows worked here.
Tiny black specks gathered in front of Jessies eyes as a crushing pain squeezed the air from her chest. Suddenly her vision tunneled to a pinprick of white light.
Please help me. I think Im
Yes, said the figure in the shadows, you are dying, Jessie. Its beautiful to watch you cross over.
Chapter 2
JESSIES HANDS FLUTTERED like a tiny birds wings beating against the sheets. Then they were very still. Jessie was gone.
The Night Walker came forward and bent low over the hospital bed. The young womans skin was mottled and bluish, clammy to the touch, her pupils fixed. She had no pulse. No vital signs. Where was she now? Heaven, hell, nowhere at all?
The silhouetted figure retrieved the fallen call device, then tugged the blankets into place, straightened the young womans blond hair and the collar of her gown, and blotted the spittle from her lips with a tissue.
Nimble fingers lifted the framed photo beside the phone on the bedside table. Shed been so pretty, this young mother holding her baby. Claudia. That was the daughters name, wasnt it?
The Night Walker put the picture down, closed the patients eyes, and placed what looked to be small brass coins, smaller than dimes, on each of Jessie Falks eyelids.
The small disks were embossed with a caduceustwo serpents entwined around a winged staff, the symbol of the medical profession.
A whispered good-bye blended with the sibilance of tires speeding over the wet pavement five stories below on

Pine Street .
Good night, princess.
Part One
MALICE AFORETHOUGHT
Chapter 3
I WAS AT MY DESK sifting through a mound of case files, eighteen open homicides to be exact, when Yuki Castellano, attorney-at-law, called on my private line.
My mom wants to take us to lunch at the Armani Caf, said the newest member of the Womens Murder Club. Youve gotta meet her, Lindsay. She can charm the skin off a snake, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Let me see; what should I choose? Cold coffee and tuna salad in my office? Or a tasty Mediterranean luncheon, say, carpaccio over arugula with thin shavings of Parmesan and a glass of Merlot, with Yuki and her snake-charming mom?
I neatened the stack of folders, told our squad assistant, Brenda, that Id be back in a couple of hours, and left the Hall of Justice with no need to be back until the staff meeting at 3:00.
The bright September day had broken a rainy streak in the weather and was one of the last glory days before the dank autumn chill would close in on San Francisco.
It was a joy to be outside.
I met Yuki and her mother, Keiko, in front of Saks in the upscale Union Square shopping district out by the Golden Gate Panhandle. Soon we were chattering away as the three of us headed up Maiden Lane toward Grant Avenue .
You girls, too modern, Keiko said. She was as cute as a bird, tiny, perfectly dressed and coiffed, shopping bags dangling from the crooks of her arms. No man want woman who too independent, she told us.
Mommm, Yuki wailed. Give it a rest, willya? This is the twenty-first century. This is America.
Look at you, Lindsay, Keiko said, ignoring Yuki, poking me under the arm. Youre packing!
Yuki and I both whooped, our shouts of laughter nearly drowning out Keikos protestation that no man want a woman with a gun.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand as we stopped and waited for the light to change.
I do have a boyfriend, I said.
Doesnt she though, Yuki said, nearly bursting into a song about my beau. Joe is a very handsome Italian guy. Like Dad. And hes got a big-deal government job. Homeland Security.
He make you laugh? Keiko asked, pointedly ignoring Joes credentials.
Uh-huh. Sometimes we laugh ourselves into fits.
He treat you nice?
He treats me sooooo nice, I said with a grin.
Keiko nodded approvingly. I know that smile, she said. You find a man with a slow hands.
Again Yuki and I burst into hoots of laughter, and from the sparkle in Keikos eyes, I could tell that she was enjoying her role as Mama Interrogator.
When you get a ring from this Joe?
Thats when I blushed. Keiko had nailed it with a well-manicured finger. Joe lived in Washington, DC. I didnt. Couldnt. I didnt know where our relationship was going.
Were not at the ring stage yet, I told her.
You love this Joe?
Big-time, I confessed.
He love you?
Yukis mom was looking up at me with amusement, when her features froze as if shed turned to stone. Her lively eyes glazed over, rolled back, and her knees gave way.
I reached out to grab her, but I was too late.
Keiko dropped to the pavement with a moan that made my heart buck. I couldnt believe what had happened, and I couldnt understand it. Had Keiko suffered a stroke?
Yuki screamed, then crouched beside her mother, slapping her cheeks, crying out, Mommy, Mommy, wake up.
Yuki, let me in there for a second. Keiko. Keiko, can you hear me?
My heart was thudding hard as I placed my fingers to Keikos carotid artery, tracked her pulse against the second hand of my watch.
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