The People vs. Alex Cross (Alex Cross #25)(91)
“Thought you might.”
We walked south a hundred yards and found Bernie Aaliyah and his daughter, Tess, waiting for us.
“Heard a lot about you, kid,” Bernie said, shaking Ali’s hand. “Remind me not to get between you and a dartboard.”
Ali grinned, and I knew they were going to be buds. Bernie started to show Ali how the tackle worked. I went to Tess, said, “Long time, no see.”
She put her hands in her back pockets, said, “I’m doing better. Most days.”
“Take a stroll?”
“Why not?”
We walked back the way I’d come.
“I’ve heard rumors of you leaving Metro,” Tess said. “On to bigger and better things.”
“It’s true,” I said, and I explained the deal I’d forged.
Similar to Rawlins, I was now an independent contractor for the FBI, working as a consultant on the most sensitive and high-profile cases. The same was true with Metro.
“I was getting restless,” I said. “I needed a new challenge, and I’ll get it. And because I’ll be called to work only the most demanding cases, I’ll have time to dedicate to my counseling practice, where I find a lot of personal fulfillment.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I think so.”
I saw the ash-blond woman from the parking lot walking our way. She’d put on big sunglasses and a tennis visor and held the hand of a pretty young girl in pigtails who wore pink culottes and carried a little bucket and shovel.
“Detective Aaliyah?” the woman said.
Tess pulled her head back, clearly not recognizing her.
The woman glanced at me and then took off her sunglasses. “My name is Patricia Phelps.”
Tess took a sharp breath. Her shaking hands traveled to her lips in disbelief. The mother of the little girl she’d shot was standing right there.
“I’ll let you two talk,” I said, and I walked toward the dunes.
I climbed up on one and sat on top for the longest time, rubbing my ankle and watching life play out on the beach below me. I saw Patricia Phelps forgive Tess Aaliyah as she’d promised she would. Tess fell into the woman’s arms, and later they built a sand castle with Meagan, the little girl.
It took a while, but Ali finally got the hang of casting and later hooked his first fish, a nice striper. He danced all around, throwing his hands up in the air, and I could hear his shouts of victory over the surf.
I smiled and gazed beyond the breaking waves to the sea and the far horizon, feeling that these kinds of moments, these small triumphs, were more than enough to keep me working for the good in the world despite all the dark webs I’d been thrust into over the course of my life.