Deadly Cross (Alex Cross #28)(33)

CHAPTER 36





WHEN I GOT HOME ABOUT an hour later, I felt wrung out.

Jannie was stretching on the floor in the front room watching Ozark on Netflix, the latest binge-watch series in the family.

“Hello, darling,” I said.

She hit Pause, looked up, and smiled quizzically at me. “Hi, Dad. You look tired.”

“A long day that ended at Sampson’s house,” I said.

Her face fell. “How are they?”

Nana Mama came out from the kitchen and called to us, “No use repeating it three or four times, Alex. Dinner’s on, so come tell us there so we can all hear you at once.”

With that, my grandmother barreled back in the direction she’d come from. I looked at Jannie and we both started laughing.

Jannie whispered, “Sometimes I wonder whether Nana’s got every room in the house bugged. Ali thinks she does.”

I snickered at the idea. “No.”

“Ali thinks she has this panel hidden up in her room and she can listen in on — ”

My grandmother appeared again, sterner now. “Dinner’s on. We’re waiting.”

We exchanged smiles and headed to the kitchen, where Bree was already sitting at the table. Two whole chickens slow-roasted in a mustard sauce lay carved on a serving tray next to boiled root vegetables and sautéed greens, garlic, and onions.

“If I knew it smelled like this in here, I would have run in,” I said, kissing Bree on the cheek and then taking a seat next to my youngest child, who was staring into space while playing with the lobe of his right ear.

“Hey, kiddo,” I said. “What’s buzzing around up there?”

He looked at me in surprise. “Oh, hi, Dad. When did you get here?”

“Like five seconds ago,” Jannie said, waving her hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Ali. Earth to Ali. Too much radio silence.”

He scrunched up his face. “Bill Gates’s mom used to say that kind of thing to him when he was a kid down in the basement.”

“What? She did not.”

“She did so. If Gates was there and she hadn’t heard from him in a while, she’d yell down to ask what he was doing. And he’d yell back, like, ‘Thinking, Mom. You’ve heard of that, right? Thinking?’ ”

“He did not.”

“Look it up,” Ali said.

“That’s enough,” Nana Mama said, taking her seat. “We’re here to eat as a family, which, as we know from Billie’s passing, is a blessed but fragile thing.”

“Amen,” Bree said.

“Amen,” I said, and we all bowed our heads and gave thanks and praise for the miracle of our lives and our food.

After we’d eaten much of the delicious meal, Nana Mama sat back. “How are they?”

“I asked John the same thing and he said he was going to get sick of that question, but he’s fixated on making sure Billie’s funeral befits her and trying to be a rock for his children.”

Bree said, “It gives him a purpose to get through the initial loss.”

“What’s that mean?” Ali asked.

I said, “After someone dies, people go through the same stages of grief, but they work through them in different ways and in different sequences, sometimes over and over.”

“But John’s going through grief by making sure her funeral’s beautiful?”

“Yes. But that lasts only until the funeral is over. Then the tough part begins.”

Jannie said, “It’s so sad. After Billie’s kids go home, Sampson will be alone with Willow. How’s he going to do that?”

“With our help,” Nana Mama said. “Once he’s ready to accept it, we’ll offer it.”

“We already have,” I said.

“We keep offering it, then.”

“Anything John or Willow needs,” Bree said, nodding and looking around. “The Sampsons are as much part of this family as any of us.” We all nodded and there were more than a few watery eyes at the table.

I couldn’t have been prouder of Bree and Nana Mama for getting the sentiment just right or more in love with my family for opening up their lives and their hearts. Sampson was already my best friend, but in shared grief and out of sheer goodness, they’d just made John and Willow so much more.





CHAPTER 37





BOTH OF OUR CELL PHONES started buzzing and ringing at five forty-five a.m.

“Not good,” Bree said, accepting her call.

I did the same and we both learned that a congresswoman from Michigan had just been shot mere blocks from our house. Officers and ambulances were racing to the scene and a commander was requested. Bree said we’d be there in ten minutes.

We dressed fast and didn’t bother with a car; we just ran toward Pennsylvania Avenue, Seward Park, and the flashing blue and red lights. Before we got there, the ambulance had already raced away. The uniformed Metro and Capitol Hill Police officers on the scene recognized Bree immediately.

“You got here fast, Chief Stone,” one of them said.

“We don’t live five blocks from here,” she said, gasping. “What happened?”

“Someone shot Congresswoman Elise McKenna while she was out jogging. Bullet hit the flank of the right buttocks, exited the left. She said she didn’t hear the shot. That’s all she said before we left.”