become something of a hallmark, but to actually be there when one of them was discovered? A unique thrill, to say the least. A total blast.
But also just a prelude. This little drama down by the river was the 'one' in a one-two punch that nobody was going to see coming – and no one would feel more than Alex when it landed.
Brace yourself, my friend. It's on the way!
Kyle checked his watch as he closed the front door behind him. It was only twelve thirty, and the sun didn't come up for hours. There was still plenty of time for what he had to get done.
Chapter 66
FIRST THINGS FIRST, he unlocked the basement door and let himself down the narrow stairs to the cinder- block-walled workshop underneath the house. It wasn't exactly his father's old walnut-paneled den, with the twelve-foot fireplace and rolling ladders, but it did the trick and would work just as well. A big bulkhead door at the back had allowed him to bring down a new chest freezer the other day, and he went to it now.
Agent Patel was sleeping peacefully inside. She still looked basically like herself, but she'd grown quite stiff, which seemed fitting. The girl had been pretty much the same way when she was alive.
'Ready for a change of scenery, my dear?'
He lifted her out and laid her on a sheet of four-millimeter painter's plastic to loosen up while he went about his other business. It reminded him of his not so dear but very much departed mother, Miriam – the way she used to leave a frozen tray of pork chops or a flank steak on the counter in the morning so it would be ready to cook up for dinner that night. He couldn't say the old girl never taught him anything useful.
Next, he tackled the walls. Dozens of new photos were taped up alongside the old, the result of several mind- numbing days of additional surveillance on Cross's movements. Not the most stimulating part of the process so far, but it had certainly paid off.
Here were Alex Cross and John Sampson, working the scene of that wonderfully twisted new case in Franklin Square.
And there was Alex with his son Ali, and the mother, Christine, who seemed to have brought quite a bit of Sturm und Drang of her own to the table.
It all came down now – every picture, every map, every clipping he'd collected since coming to Washington. None of it was necessary anymore. He'd committed it all to memory. And besides – now was the time to get the details out of his head and really start to fly!
Once upon a time, Kyle knew, he would have wanted – no, needed – to have this thing mapped out down to the finest details. But that wasn't true anymore. Now his options just hung there in the air, like so many pieces of fruit waiting to be picked.
Maybe the final narrative went something like this: Alex wakes up on the bathroom floor, the knife still in his hand. He gets up, disoriented, and stumbles into the bedroom to find Bree gutted in their bed. When he runs to check on the children, it's more of the same. The grandmother, too. Alex can't remember a thing, not even how he got home that night. Flash forward a year or two, and he's learning all about the unique hell that is maximum- security lockup, festering in his own innocence while the walls close in around him a little more every day.
Or – maybe not.
Maybe he'd take Alex out definitively, once and for all. Good old-fashioned torture and murder, not to mention getting to actually watch Cross die, had considerable appeal, too.
In the meantime, there was no specific hurry to decide the final option. His only job for now was to breathe Max Siegel's air, stay open to the possibilities, and focus on whatever was right in front of him.
And, at the present moment, that was Agent Patel.
When he went back to check on her, she was just starting to soften up around the edges. All well and good. By the time she started putting up any kind of smell, he'd be rid of her.
'Fun while it lasted, roomie,' he said, and leaned down to give her a chaste good-bye kiss on the lips. Then he rolled his departing guest into a standard white body bag and zipped her up for transport.
Chapter 67
ANOTHER EARLY MORNING, and another phone call from Sampson. This time, I wasn't even out of bed. 'Listen, sugar, I know you had a hell of a night out on the parkway, but I thought you'd want to know. We just got another body in this numbers case.'
'Great timing,' I said, still flat on my back with Bree's arm slung over my chest.
'I guess nobody's getting my memos about that. Listen, I can cover this if you need to take a pass.'
'Where are you?' I asked him.
'The bus terminal behind Union Station. Seriously, though, you sound like the bad half of a hangover, Alex. Why don't you stay put, and forget I called?'
'No,' I said. Every part of me wanted to stay attached to that mattress, but you get only one first shot at a crime scene. 'I'll be there as soon as I can.'
Bree grabbed at my arm as I sat up and swung my feet to the floor.
'God, Alex, this is, like, the definition of 'early.' What's going on now?'
'Sorry to wake you,' I said, and leaned back far enough to kiss her good morning. 'You know, I can't wait to marry you, by the way.'
'Oh yeah? How's that going to change any of this?'
'It won't,' I said. 'I just can't wait.'
She smiled, and even in the semidark it was a beautiful thing to see. No woman I've ever known can look as good as she does in the morning. Or as sexy. I had to get up again fast before I started something I couldn't finish.
'Do you want me to come with you?' she asked, a little groggy but up on one elbow now.
'Thanks, no. I've got this. But if you could get the kids to school -'
'Done. Anything else?'
'A couple of quick, unspeakable acts before I leave?'
'Rain check,' she said. 'Sampson's waiting. Now go – before we both do something we won't regret.'
I was gone a few minutes later, and had to wave off the security detail in the backyard when they saw me launch out the door. It had been only a few hours since I'd come dragging past them, moving in the opposite direction.
'Hey, guys. Regina's just getting up,' I said. 'Coffee'll be out for you soon.'
'And biscuits?' asked one of them.
'I wouldn't doubt it,' I said, and laughed.
This was getting out of hand, though. I knew about crazy hours as well as the next guy, but leaving the house before Nana Mama even gets her kitchen up and running for the day? That is the definition of 'early.'
Chapter 68
ALL OF THE EARLY-MORNING buses were lined up on the street outside Union Station when I got there.
Sampson had already shut down the rear terminal, and there were traffic cops in orange vests everywhere, pointing people to where they needed to go. One more colossal headache, but at least it wasn't mine.
I pulled around back and walked up from street level to the cavernous main deck of the parking garage. Sampson was waiting for me with a large coffee in each hand.
'I'm hating this one, sugar. Hating it real bad,' he said, handing over my morning fuel.
