Suddenly, something caught Sampson's eye. He rose up from the couch and walked to a glass case near the fireplace. He reached inside and took out a straw doll.
Now this was definitely very strange. He examined it closely. He was sure it was a replica of the one he'd seen in Ellis Cooper's house. It scared him because it was in Billie's house. What was the doll doing here?
“What is it?” she asked. “What is that creepy doll? I don't remember seeing it before. Is something wrong? You look so serious suddenly.”
“I saw this same doll at Ellis Cooper's house, ”he admitted. “It's from Vietnam. I saw lots of them in villages over there. Something about evil spirits and the dead. These dolls are bad medicine.”
She came over to the glass cabinet and stood beside him. “May I see, please?” She examined the straw doll and shook her head. 'It looks like something Laurence might have brought home, I suppose. A souvenir.
Memento more. I honestly don't remember ever seeing it,; though. Isn't that strange. It reminds me the other dayj I found a big, ugly eye in that same cabinet. It was so evil I tossed it.'
Sampson held her gaze. “Strange coincidence,” he said, shaking his head. He was thinking that Alex refused to: believe in coincidences. “As far as you remember, your husband never mentioned Sergeant Ellis Cooper?” he asked.
Billie shook her head. She seemed a little spooked now. “No. He rarely talked about the war. He didn't like? it when he was there. He liked it even less once he came back and had time to think about his combat experiences.”
“I can understand that. When I got back to DC I was stationed at Fort Myers in Arlington for a couple of months. I came home in my dress greens one Saturday. I got off a bus in downtown Washington. A white girl in bell bottom jeans and sandals came up and spat on my uniform. She called me a baby murderer. I'll never forget that for the rest of my life. I was so angry I turned and walked away as fast as I could. The hippie girl had no idea what happened over there, what it's like to get shot at, to lose friends, to fight for your country.”
Billie clasped her hands together and slowly rocked back and forth. “I don't know what to tell you about Laurence. I think you probably would have liked him Everybody did. He was very responsible, a good father to our children. He was a thoughtful, loving husband. Before he died, and I'm talking twenty minutes before he was executed, I sat with him in the prison. He stared into my eyes and said, ”I did not kill that young man. Please make sure our kids know that. Make sure, Billie.' '
“Yeah,” Sampson said. “Ellis Cooper said something like that, too.”
It got quiet in the living room. A little uncomfortable for the first time.
Finally, Sampson was compelled to speak. “I'm glad you called, Billie. Tonight was great for me. Thank you. I need to go now. It's getting late.”
She was standing beside him and she didn't move. Sampson leaned down and kissed her cheek. God, she was so tiny.
“You do think I'll break,” she said, but then she smiled. “That's all right.”
She walked him out to his car. They felt compelled to talk again, mostly about the night sky over the ocean, how expansive and beautiful it was.
Sampson got into the Cougar and Billie started to walk back to the house. He watched her, and he felt sorry that the night was ending and he'd probably never see her again. He was also a little worried about her. How had the straw doll gotten into her house?
She stopped at the stairs to the house, one hand on the banister. Then, almost as if she'd forgotten something, she walked back to his car.
“I, uhm,” she said, then stopped. She seemed nervous for the first time since they'd met. Unsure of herself.
Sampson took her hands in his. “I was wondering if I could have another cup of coffee,” he said.
She laughed lightly and shook her head. “Are you always this gallant?”
Sampson shrugged. “No,” he said. “I've never been this way in my whole life.”
“Well, c'mon back inside.”
Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice
Chapter Fifty-Six
It was almost midnight and Jamilla and I were up to our necks in the shimmering mountain pool that looked down on Phoenix in the distance and on the desert up closer. The sky over our heads seemed to go on forever. A big jet took off from Phoenix and all I could think of was the tragedy at the World Trade Center. I wondered if any of us would ever be able to look at a jet in the sky without having that thought.
“I don't want to get out of this water. Ever,” she said. “I love it here. The desert sky goes on and on.”
I held her close to me, felt her strong heart beating against my chest. The night air was cool and it made being in the pool feel even better.
“I don't want to leave here either,” I whispered against her cheek.
“So why do we do what we do? Live in the big city? Hunt killers? Work long hours for low pay? Obsess on murders?”
I looked into her deep brown eyes. Those were good questions, ones I'd asked myself dozens of times, but especially during the past few months. “It always seems like a good idea at the time. But not right now.”
“You think you can ever quit? Get past the adrenalin? The need to feel that what you do matters. I'm not sure
