Along Came a Spider (Alex Cross #1)(20)

“They all call him Shrimpie, which I think he likes. It makes him a little more of the gang,” said Tom Dunne. “Basically, he’s a whiz-kid type. Maggie calls him a brainiac. That’s fairly descriptive of Michael.”

“Michael is definitely a brainiac.”

“How is he when he gets tired?” I went back to something Katherine had said, maybe something important. “Is he ever short-tempered?”

Katherine thought about my question before answering. “He just gets pooped. Occasionally, he’ll take a nap. One time—I remember the two of them asleep near the pool. This little odd couple sprawled out on the grass. Just two little kids.”

She stared at me with those gray eyes of hers and she started to cry. She had been trying hard to control herself, but finally had to let go.

However reluctant I may have been at first, I was becoming a flesh-and-blood part of the terrible case. I felt for the Dunnes and the Goldbergs. I’d made connections between Maggie Rose and my own kids. I was involved in a way that isn’t always useful. The anger I had felt about the killer in the projects was being transferred to the kidnapper of these two innocent kids… Mr. Soneji… Mr. Chips.

I wanted to reach out, to tell both of them everything would be okay, to convince myself everything would be okay. I wasn’t sure it would be.





CHAPTER 16


MAGGIE ROSE still believed she was in her own grave. It was beyond being creepy and horrible. It was a million times worse than any nightmare she’d ever imagined. And Maggie knew her imagination was a good one. She could gross out or amaze her friends, pretty much at will.

Was it nighttime now? Or was it daytime?

“Michael?” she moaned weakly. Her whole mouth, her tongue especially, felt like a lot of cotton swabs. Her mouth was unbelievably dried out. She was so thirsty. Sometimes she would gag on her tongue. She kept imagining that she was swallowing her tongue. Nobody had ever been this thirsty before. Not even in the deserts of Iraq and Kuwait.

Maggie Rose kept drifting in and out of sleep. Dreams came to her constantly. Another one had just started.

Someone was pounding on a heavy wooden door nearby.

Whoever it was called out her name. “Maggie Rose… Maggie Rose, talk to me!”

Then Maggie wasn’t sure that it was a dream at all.

Someone was really there.

Was someone breaking into her grave? Was it her mom and dad? Or the police, finally?

Suddenly light from above blinded her! Maggie Rose was sure it was really light.

It was as if she were looking straight into a hundred flashbulbs, all of them going off at once.

Her heart beat so fast and so hard that Maggie Rose knew she must be alive. In some terrible, terrible place. Someone had put her there.

Maggie Rose whispered up into the light, “Who is it? Who’s there? Who’s up there right now? I see a face!”

The light was so very bright that Maggie Rose couldn’t really see anything.

For the second—or third—time, it had gone from pitch-black to blinding, blinding white.

Then someone’s silhouette blocked out most of the light. Maggie still couldn’t see who was there. Light radiated behind the person.

Maggie clamped shut her eyes, tightly. Then opened them. She did this over and over again.

She couldn’t really see anything. Couldn’t focus on whoever or whatever it was. She had to keep blinking. Whoever was up there had to see the blinking, had to know she was alive.

“Mr. Soneji? Please help me,” she tried to call out. Her throat was so dry. Her voice came out raspy and unrecognizable.

“Shaddup! Shaddup!” a voice from above shouted.

Someone was up there now! Someone was really up there and could get her out.

It sounded like… a very old woman’s voice.

“Please help me. Please,” Maggie begged.

A hand came flying down and slapped her face hard.

Maggie cried out. She was more frightened than hurt, but the blow hurt, too. She’d never been slapped before. It set off a loud roar inside her head.

“Stopyercrying!” The eerie voice was closer.

Then the person climbed down into the grave and was right over her. Maggie could smell strong body odor and someone’s bad breath. She was being pinned down now, and she was too weak to fight back.

“Don’t fight me, yet little bastard! Don’t ever fight me! Who do yer think yer are, yer little bastard!

“Don’t yer ever raise yer hand to me! Yer hear me? Don’t yer ever!”

Please, God, what was happening?

“Yer that famous Maggie Rose, aren’t yer? The rich, spoiled brat! Well, let me tell yer a secret. Our secret. Yer gonna die, little rich girl. Yer gonna die!”





CHAPTER 17


THE NEXT DAY was Christmas Eve. It didn’t fee like the season to be merry. And it was going to get a whole lot worse before Christmas Day.

None of us had been able to make any of the usual, festive holiday preparations with our families. It added to the tension the Hostage Rescue Team was feeling. It magnified the misery of the depressing task. If Soneji had chosen the holiday season for this reason, he’d chosen well. He had turned everyone’s Christmas to shit.

Around ten o’clock in the morning, I walked down Sorrell Avenue to the Goldberg house. Sampson, meanwhile, had sneaked off to do a little work on the murders in Southeast. We planned to get back together around noon to compare horror stories.