Patterson, James - Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

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Gentleman Caller, about Kate McTiernan, who'd been abducted in North Carolina. Why was that on my mind now? What was the connection? I couldn't get the lurid and devastating murder scenes out of my head. Notfamilla. Don't let this happen again. Don't let her get hurt. While I sat there worrying, my phone rang. I answered immediately. It was him. He was playing his cruel games. He seemed so close. 'Where are you. Doctor Cross? I thought you were heading home to kith and kin. Maybe it's time that you did. Your work is done out here. There's nothing more you can do. Nothing at all. We wouldn't want anything to happen to Nana Mama and the kids, would we? That would be the worst thing, wouldn't it? The absolute worst.'

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immediately called Nana in Washington. Either she wasn't there, or she was still mad at me and wasn't picking up the phone. Damn it. Answer the phone, Nana. I frantically called again, but there was still no answer. Pick up, pick up! Damn it - pick up the phone! Sweat had begun to coat my neck and forehead. This was my darkest nightmare, my worst fear come true. What could I do from out here? I called Sampson and told him to rush over to my house, then get back to me immediately. He didn't question me for a second. 'I'm sending a squad car now. It will be there in minutes. I'll be right behind it. I'll get back to you, Alex,' he said. I sat in the car and anxiously waited for Sampson's call. My head was spinning with all kinds of terrible thoughts and images. There was nothing I could do - not for Jamilla, if she was in trouble; not for my own family back in Washington. I thought about the Mastermind and the way he'd operated in the past. There were always dramatic taunts and barbs - and then, when I least expected it, he would act; he would make a strike to the heart. When I least expected it. Action, not words. Horrible murders. He knew I hadn't returned to Washington; did he know for sure that I was in San Francisco? I couldn't focus as much as I needed to. Was it possible that he was

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right here on Jamilla's street? Was the killer watching me now? He had shown that he was smart enough to follow me and not be seen. Did he want a showdown? The cell phone rang again. My heart jumped in my chest. I rumbled with the buttons. 'Cross,' I said. 'Everybody's okay, Alex. I'm at the house with Nana and the kids. They're safe and sound. They're with me now.' I shut my eyes and sighed with relief.'Put her on,'I told Sampson. 'Don't take no for an answer from her. I need to talk to Nana about what we're going to do next.'

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Sampson promised to stay with Nana and the kids until I could get home. There was no one that I trusted more, no one in the world they would be safer with. Still, I couldn't be sure, and that was a terrible weight to carry. I didn't feel I could leave California until I had at least located Jamilla, and knew she was safe. Finally I called Tim Bradley at The Examiner. He didn't know where she was, or even that she'd taken a day off work. Maybe she had needed to get away from town - to get away from being a homicide detective. I was beginning to feel that maybe I had made a mistake by stopping in San Francisco. The longer I sat on the street, outside her house, the more convinced I was of it. Maybe the job was finally getting to me. The instincts go first. But every time I considered leaving, I remembered the night I arrived at Betsey Cavalierre's house, seeing her dead body. And instincts had gotten me here in my career. Feelings, gut reactions, experiences from the past. Maybe just plain stubbornness. I stayed on surveillance, stayed at my post. I got out of the car a couple of times, walked up and down the block a little. Climbed back in the car. Waited some more. I felt more than a little ridiculous, but I wouldn't give in to it. I checked in with Sampson again. Everything was okay at home. Another homicide detective I knew, Jerome Thurman, had arrived at the house, too. Double duty against the Mastermind. Was that enough protection?

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Then I saw Jamilla coming up the street in her Saab. I actually clapped my hands together. I smacked the dashboard with my palm. Yes. Thank God she was safe. There she was She parked about half a block from her house on Texas Street, got out, pulling a University of San Francisco gym bag behind her. I wanted to run up and hug her, but I stayed in my car. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She was wearing a dark blue tee and loose gray workout pants. She was all right; she hadn't been hurt Jamilla hadn't been murdered by the Mastermind. I stared through the car windshield, waiting to see if anyone was watching her, stalking her. fart of me wanted to leave well enough alone now, to go home to Washington. But I kept remembering what had happened to Betsey Cavalierre after we finished our case together. Why then? Why my partner? I almost didn't want to go there. I gave Jamilla time to get inside - then I called her on my cell. 'This is Jamilla Hughes. Your message is important to me. Please leave it at the beep.' Damn it! I hated those machines. 'Jamilla, this is Alex Cross. Call me. It's important. Please--' 'Hi, Alex. Where are you? How are you?' I could hear the smile in her voice, and it sounded inappropriate because of the emotional state I was in. 'Please be careful.' I continued with what I was going to leave her as a message. I told her why I was concerned. Finally, I had to admit the worst: that I was on the street outside her apartment. 'Well, come inside for God's sake,' she said. There were no recriminations, not even any surprise in her voice. 'I think you're over-reacting. Maybe. Let's talk about it, though. Let's talk this thing through.' 'No, let me stay out here for a while. I hope you don't think I'm being too crazy. Whoever killed Betsey has been contacting me ever since her death. The Mastermind could be here in San Francisco. He killed her right after we finished our case. Detective Cooke was murdered after the magicians were killed in New Orleans.' That gave her pause.'Maybe I think you're a little crazy, Alex. But I

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understand why you would be. I see where you're going with this. I'm also touched that you came here to watch over me. And what happened to your last partner does scare me.' It helped that I knew where Jam was, and that I had actually talked to her. After we spoke, I continued watching her street. I don't know how many times I had thought about Betsey Cavalierre's murder and wondered who the killer was, but I did it again as I sat in the car. I stayed there for several hours. Jamilla and I talked a couple of times. She urged me to come up to her apartment. I said no.'Let me do it my way. Jam.' It was getting late, though, and I was beginning to fade. I saw the lights in her apartment go off. Good for her. At least one of us was acting sane. I continued to wait. Something powerful, dramatic, haunting was nagging at me. Something I almost didn't want to face. The clues had been there, but I hadn't wanted to see them for what they were. I'd wanted to follow my'famous instincts'. Look where it had gotten me. I had blown it for so long. Then I saw him, and everything made sense. Suddenly the puzzle was clear; all the pieces fit. Not just Betsey's murder - the Casanova murder, the stalking of Kate McTiernan, the fact that he'd been able to keep a step ahead of me. The killer was here on Jamilla's street. The Mastermind was here in San Francisco. I was sure, and it made me dizzy with fear. But also with incredible disappointment, sadness, confusion. I felt like I might throw up. It was Kyle Craig. He was watching Jamilla's place, stalking her like the madman that he was. The goddamn Mastermind had come here to kill her. How could I stop him?