“Well, there's that too, my smart little dink. The thing is, maybe you're my daughter.”

I tuned out on the conversation and stared at the outline of the A-frame cabin. It looked like some family's vacation house. We'd heard that the three of them had been using the place since the mid-eighties. They'd already talked about murders committed in these woods, but it wasn't clear who had been killed, or why. Or where the bodies were buried.

Jim Morrison was still singing' The End'. The TV was on too, a University of Georgia football game. Georgia versus Auburn. Warren Griffin was rooting loudly and obnoxiously for Auburn. Marc Sherman had apparently gone to Georgia and Griffin was breaking his chops.

Sampson and I stayed in a culvert, a safe distance away. It was getting even colder, the wind screaming through the large hemlocks and beech trees.

“Starkey doesn't seem to be partying,” Sampson finally said. “You notice that? What's he doing?”

“Starkey likes to watch. He's the cautious one, the leader. I'm going to move a little closer. We haven't seen or heard from the other girl in a while. Makes me nervous.”

Just then, we heard Marc Sherman raise his voice. “Jesus, don't cut her. Be careful! C'mon, man. Put away the K-Bar!”

“Why the hell not cut her? ”Harris yelled at the top of his voice. “What the hell is she to you? You cut her, then. Try it, you'll like it. You cut her, Counselor. Get your hands dirty for a change!”

“I'm warning you, Harris. Put the goddamn knife down.”

“You're warning me? That's pretty rich. Here take the knife. Take it! Here you go!”

The lawyer groaned loudly. I was pretty sure he'd been stabbed.

The girls began to scream. Sherman was moaning in excruciating pain. Chaos had taken over inside the cabin.

“Cockadau!” Harris suddenly yelled in Vietnamese. He sounded a little nuts.

“Cockadau means kill,” Sampson told me.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Ninety-Four

Sampson and I were up in a flash and sprinting full-out toward the cabin. We reached the front door together. He went in first with his gun drawn.

“Police!” he yelled over the blaring rock music and TV. “Police! Hands in the air. Now!”

I was right behind Sampson when Starkey opened up with an MP5. At the same time, Griffin fired a handgun from across the room. The two Asian women were screaming as they scampered out the cabin's rear door. They had enough street smarts to get out of there fast. I saw that the smaller woman had a deep gash across her cheek. Her face was dripping blood.

Marc Sherman lay on the floor, motionless. There were dark splatters of blood on the wall behind the lawyer's body. He was dead.

The big gun erupted again, noise and smoke filling the room. My ears were ringing. I wasn't even sure if I'd been hit or not.

“Move out!” Sharkey yelled to the others.