Patterson, James - Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

“Oh, absolutely.”

I continued to look into Nana's eyes. I didn't get it. She wasn't giving me a hard time like she usually does. What was up? We were quiet for the next minute or so. Unusual for us. We usually jabber back and forth until one of us surrenders.

“You know, I'm eighty-two years old. I never felt like I was seventy, or seventy-five, or even eighty. But Alex, suddenly I feel my age. I'm eighty-two. Give or take.”

She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. The sadness was back in her eyes, maybe even a little fear. I felt a lump in my throat. Something was wrong with her. What was it? Why wouldn't she tell me?

“I've had a pain lately, in my chest. Shortness of breath. Angina or whatever. Not so good, not so good.”

“Have you seen Dr. Rodman? Or Bill Montgomery?” I asked.

“I saw Kayla Coles. She was in the neighborhood treating a man a few houses down from us.”

I didn't understand. “Who's Kayla Coles?”

“Dr. Kayla makes house calls in Southeast. She's organized about a dozen doctors and nurses who come into the neighborhood to help people here. She's a fabulous doctor and a good person, Alex. She's doing a lot of good in Southeast. I like her tremendously.”

I bristled a little. “Nana, you're not some charity case. We have money for you to see a doctor of your choice.”

Nana squeezed her eyes shut. “Please. Listen to me. And pay attention to what I'm saying. I'm eighty-two and I won't be around forever. Much as I'd like to be. But I'm taking care of myself so far, and I plan to keep doing it. I like and trust Kayla Coles. She is my choice.”

Nana got up slowly from the table, kissed me on the cheek and then she shuffled off to bed. At least we were fighting again.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Later that night, I went up to my attic office. Everyone was asleep and the house was quiet.

I liked working when it was peaceful like this. I was back on the Army case; I couldn't get it out of my mind. The bodies painted in bright colors. The eerie straw dolls. The even spookier all-seeing eyes. Innocent soldiers punished by wrongful executions.

And who knew how many more soldiers might be scheduled for execution?

There was plenty of material to go through. If even some of these executions were linked, it would be a huge bombshell for the Army. I continued my research, did some spade work on the straw doll and the evil eye. I did a search on Lexus-Nexus, which held information from most local and national newspapers and the major international ones. A lot of detectives underestimate the usefulness of press research, but I don't. I have solved crimes using information passed to the press by police officers.

I read reports about a former PFC in Hawaii. He'd been accused of murdering five men during a sex-slavery-and-torture spree that occurred from 1998 to 2000. He was currently on death row.

I moved on. I felt I had no choice but to keep going on the case.

An Army captain had killed two junior officers in San Diego less than three months ago. He'd been convicted and was awaiting sentencing. His wife was lodging an appeal. He'd been convicted on the basis of DNA evidence.

I made a note to myself: Maybe talk to this one.

My reading was interrupted by the sound of footsteps peppering the stairs up to the attic.

Someone was coming up.

In a hurry.

Adrenalin fired through my system. I reached into a desk drawer and put my hand on a gun.

Suddenly Damon burst into the room. He was soaked with sweat and looked like hell. Nana had told me he was asleep in his room. Obviously that hadn't been the case. He hadn't even been in the house, had he?

“Damon?” I said as I rose. “Where have you been?”

“Come with me, Dad. Please. It's my friend. Ramon's sick! Dad, I think he's dying.”

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Fifty-Nine

We both ran down to my car and Damon told me what had happened to his friend Ramon on the way. His hands were shaking badly as he spoke.

“He took E, Dad. He's been doing E for a couple of days.”

E was one of the latest drugs of choice around DC, especially among high school and college kids at George Washington and Georgetown.

“Ramon hasn't been going to school?” I asked.

“No. He hasn't been going home either. He's been staying at a crib down by the river. It's in Capitol Heights.”

I knew the river area and I headed there with a red lamp on my car roof and a siren bleating. I had met Ramon Ramirez, and I knew about his parents: they were musicians, and addicts. Ramon played baseball with Damon. He was twelve. I wondered how deeply Damon was involved, but this wasn't the time for questions like that.

I parked, and Damon and I walked into a dilapidated row house down near the Anacostia. The house was three stories and most of the windows were boarded.

“You been in this place before?” I asked Damon.

“Yeah, I was here. I came to help Ramon. I couldn't just leave him, could I?”

“Was Ramon conscious when you left him?” I asked.

“Yeah. But his teeth were clenched together and then he was throwing up. His nose was bleeding.”

“Okay, let's see how he is. Keep up with me.”

We hurried down a dark hallway and turned a corner. I could smell the stench of garbage and also a recent fire.

Then I got a surprise. Two EMS techs and a doctor were in a small room; they were working over a boy. I could see Ramon's black sneakers and rolled-up cargo pants. Nothing moved.

The doctor rose from her kneeling position over Ramon. She was tall and heavy-set, with a pretty face. I hadn't seen her around before. I walked up to her, showed my badge, which didn't seem to impress her much.

“I'm Detective Cross,” I said. “How is the boy?”

The woman focused hard on me. “I'm Kayla Coles. We're working on him. I don't know yet. Someone called nine-one-one. Did you make the call?” She looked at Damon. I realized she was the doctor Nana had talked about.

Damon answered her question. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Did you take any drugs?” she asked.

Damon looked at me, then at Dr. Coles. “I don't do drugs. It's dumb.”

“But your friends do? Do you have dumb friends?”

“I was trying to help him. That's all.”

Dr. Coles' look was severe, but then she nodded. “You probably saved your friend's life.”

Damon and I waited in the bleak, foul-smelling room until we heard news that Ramon would make it. This time. Kayla Coles stayed there the whole time. She hovered over Ramon like a guardian angel. Damon got to say a few words to his friend before they took him to a waiting ambulance. I saw him clasp the boy's hands. It was nearly two in the morning when we finally made our way out of the row house.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded, but then his body started to shake, and he finally began to sob against my arm.

“It's all right. It's all right,” I consoled him. I put my arm around Damon's shoulders and we headed home.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Sixty

Thomas Starkey, Brownley Harris and Warren Griffin took separate flights to New York City, all leaving out of Raleigh-Durham Airport. It was safer and a lot smarter that way, and they always worked under the assumption that they were the best, after all. They couldn't make mistakes, especially now.

Starkey was on the five o'clock out of North Carolina. He planned to meet the others at the Palisade Motel in Highland Falls, New York, just outside the United States Military Academy at West Point. There was going to be a murder there. Two murders, actually.

Then this long mission was over.