Patterson, James - Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Seventy-Six

They talked about Vietnam, and her husband's Army experiences after the war, until Sampson was starting to get a headache. Billie never complained. Around four in the afternoon they took a break and watched the high tide coming in. It amazed Sampson that the long stretch of beach could be so empty on such a sunny and blue-skied day.

“Did you bring a suit? ”she asked, and smiled.

“Actually, I did throw a suit in the car,” Sampson said, and returned her smile.

“Want to take a swim?”

“Yeah. Be nice.”

They slipped into their suits and met back on the front porch. She had on a black one-piece. He figured she must do a lot of swimming, or maybe worked out. She was little, but she didn't look like a young girl. She was probably in her early forties.

“I know I look okay,” Billie said, and twirled around. “So do you. Now let's hit the water before you chicken out on me.”

“Chicken out? You know I'm a homicide detective?”

“Uh-huh. Water's sixty-seven today, tough guy.”

“What? Is that cold?”

“You'll soon find out.”

They walked to the top of the dune in front of the house. Then they broke into a full-out run. Sampson was laughing, mostly at himself, because he didn't do this kind of thing.

They high-stepped their way through the low surf like kids on vacation, ignoring that the water was in the sixties, cold as hell, absolutely freezing.

“You can swim?” Billie asked as a huge swell moved toward them. She thought she saw him nod.

“John?” she asked again.

“I can swim. Can you?”

Then they both dove under the wave as it crested high above their heads. A short way out past the first wave, they re-surfaced. Billie started to stroke her way out to a point past the breakers. Sampson followed, and he was a good, strong swimmer. That delighted her for some reason.

“Sometimes, kids from the cities,” she said as they bobbed heads together,“ they don't learn to swim.”

“That's true. I have this good friend. When we were growing up in DC, his grandmother made sure we knew how. She used to take us to the city pool. She said, ”You swim, or you drown“.”

Then Sampson found himself taking Billie in his arms. She used a forefinger to wipe beads of water off his face. Her touch was gentle. So were her eyes. Something was going on here and whatever it was, he didn't know if he was ready for it.

“What?” Billie asked.

“I was just going to say,” he said, 'that you're surprising in a lot of ways."

She closed her eyes for a second, nodded. Then she opened her eyes again. “You're still here. Good. I'm glad you came back. Even if you came to interrogate me.”

“The reason I came was to see you. I told you.”

“Whatever you say, John.”

Nobody but Alex and Nana called him John.

They swam back toward shore and played in the creamy surf for a while. Even though it was late afternoon they took a walk to the south, passing more large houses that were shut up tight for the coming winter. They fell into a nice rhythm along the way. They had to stop and kiss at each house.

“You're getting kind of corny,” Billie finally said. Tt becomes you. You have a tender side, John Sampson."

“Yeah. Maybe I do.”

They ate dinner on the front porch again. Sampson put on the radio. Afterward, they snuggled in the love seat and again he was struck by how tiny she was. She fit against him, though.

"One Night With You' came on the radio. Luther Vandross. Sampson asked her to dance. He couldn't believe it -I just asked Billie to dance on the porch.

He tucked her in close. She fit nicely standing up, too. They moved well together, totally in synch. He listened to her breathing and could feel her heartbeat as well.

An old Marvin Gaye tune came on the radio and they danced to that, too. It all seemed dreamlike to him. Completely unexpected.

Especially when they went upstairs together at around ten-thirty. Neither of them said a word, but Billie took his hand and led him into the bedroom. A three-quarter moon was lighting the whitecaps. A sailboat lazily drifted by out beyond the line of surf.

“You okay?” she whispered.

“I am much more than okay. Are you, Billie?”

“I am Billie. I think I wanted this to happen from the first time I saw you. You ever done this before? ”she asked. There was that sly grin of hers again. She was playing with him, but he liked it.

“First time. I've been saving myself for the right woman.”

“Well, let's see if I'm worth the wait.”

Sometimes, he could be in a hurry, and that would be okay, the way of the world in Washington, but not tonight. He wanted to explore Billie's body, to get to know what pleased her. He touched her everywhere; kissed her everywhere. Everything about her seemed right to him. What's happening here? I came to ask this woman about some murders. Murders! Not love-making in shimmering moon-light.

He could feel her small breasts rising and falling, rising and falling. He was on top of her, supporting his weight on his hands.

“You won't hurt me,” she whispered.

“No, I won't.”

I won't. I couldn't hurt you. And I won't let anybody hurt you.

She smiled, rolled over, and then slid up on top of him. “How's that? Is that better for you?”

He ran his strong hands up and down her back and over her buttocks. She hummed "One Night With You'. They began to move together, really slowly at first. Then faster. And faster still. Billie rose and fell hard on him. She liked it that way.

When they finally collapsed with the pleasure of it all, she looked into his eyes. Not bad for your first time. You'll get better."

Later, Sampson lay in the bed with Billie snuggled up against his side. It still made him smile to see how small she was. Small face, small hands, feet, breasts. And then the thought hit him stunned him: he was at peace for the first time in years. Maybe ever.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Seventy-Seven

I was pumped up to see Nana and the kids when I got home from my trip to Florence prison that night. It was only seven and I'd been thinking we might go to the IMAX theater, or maybe the ESPN Zone some nice treat for the kids.

As I climbed the front steps of the house, I spotted a note stuck onto the screen door, flapping in the breeze.

Uh-oh.

Messages left at the house always make me a little queasy. There'd been too many bad ones during the past few years.

I recognized Nana's handwriting: Alex, we've gone to your Aunt Tin's. Be back by nine or so. Everybody misses you. Do you miss us? Of course you do in your own way. Nana and the kids.

I'd noticed that Nana Mama had been unusually sentimental lately. She said she was feeling better, back to her old self again, but I wondered if that was true. Maybe I should talk to her doctor, but I didn't like interfering in her business. She'd been doing an excellent job of taking care of herself for a long time.

I shuffled on into the kitchen and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.

I saw a funny drawing of a pregnant stork that Jannie had stuck up on the door. Suddenly, I felt lonely for everybody. The thing about kids for some people for me anyway is that they complete your life, make some kind of sense out of it, even if they do drive you crazy sometimes. The gain is worth the pain. At least in our house it is.

The telephone rang and I figured it was Nana.

“Hooray, you're home!” came a welcome voice. Well, surprise, surprise. It was Jamilla, and that cheered me right up. I could picture her face, her smile, the bright shine in her eyes.