Patterson, James - Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

Patsy Hampton was definitely wide awake now. I'm on it. Thanks, Chuck. Let's keep this between the two of us for the moment, okay?'

'Yeah. Okay.'

It took her a couple of minutes to log onto AOL, then get into the Gamesters' Chatroom. She didn't participate, just read what the others had to say. This was interesting. She wondered if she had just stumbled onto her first big break in the Jane Doe case.

The others in the room were named Viper, Landlocked, J-Boy, and Lancelot. They chattered on and on about the hottest fantasy games and cutting-edge magazines, which nearly succeeded in putting her to sleep. The Four Horsemen came up twice, but only in passing as a point of reference. Lancelot was the one who mentioned it. Chuck was right, these probably weren't the actual players, but they knew about the game somehow.

The fantasy nerds were starting to wear really thin with her by quarter past one. Finally, out of frustration, she typed out a message for the little shitheads. She called herself Sappho.

I CAME IN LATE, BUT HORSEMEN SOUNDS LIKE A NEAT KIND OF REVOLUTIONARY GAME TO ME, LANCELOT. PRETTY AUDACIOUS STUFF, NO?

Lancelot shot back:

NOT REALLY, SAPPO. THERE'S A LOT OF IT GOING AROUND LATELY. ANTI-HEROES, SICKOS. ESPECIALLY IN VAMPIRE GAME CIRCLES.

Hampton typed:

HAVEN'T I READ ABOUT MURDERS LIKE THESE IN THE NEWSPAPERS? BYTHE WAY, IT'S SAPPHO, LIKE THE POET.

Lancelot replied:

YEAH, BUT LOTS OF RPGS USE CURRENT EVENTS. NO BIGGIE, REALLY. SAPPO.

Hampton grinned. He was an obnoxious little nerd, but she had him - for the moment anyway. And she needed him. How much did he know about The Four Horsemen? Could he be a player? She tried to peek at Lancelot's profile, but he had restricted access to it.

YOU'RE FUNNY. ARE YOU A PLAYER, LAUGHA-LOT, OR JUST AN ART CRITIC?

I DONT LIKE THE BASIC CONCEPT OF HORSEMEN. ANYWAY, IT'S A PRIVATE GAME. STRICTLY PRIVATE. ENCRYPTED.

YOU KNOW ANY OF THE PLAYERS? I MIGHT LIKE TO TRY IT OUT MYSELF?

There was no response to the question. Patsy thought maybe she'd pushed too hard, too fast. Damn! She should have known better. Damn, damn! Come back, Lancelot. Earth to Lancelot.

I REALLY WOULD LIKE TO PLAY THE FOUR HORSEMEN. BUT I'M COOL ABOUT IT. NO BIGGIE. LANCELOT?

Patsy Hampton waited, and then Lancelot left the chatroom. Lancelot was gone. And so was her connection to somebody playing a so-called fantasy game about committing gruesome murders in Washington -murders that had really happened.

Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

CHAPTER Fifty

I returned to Washington during the first week of September and I had never felt stranger in my own skin. I'd gone to Bermuda with my family and Christine, and now I was coming home without her. Whoever had taken Christine had contacted me only once. I missed her nearly every moment of every day, and I felt so far away from where she might still be.

It was an unusually cool and windy day when I got back to the city. It almost seemed as if summer had suddenly changed to the middle of fall. I felt as if I had been away much longer than I had. I had been in a fog of unreality in Bermuda, and I felt nearly the same once I was back in DC again. I'd never felt this badly before, never so lost, so unhinged, battered.

I wondered if Christine and I were part of a madman's elaborate fantasy, what profilers call an escalating fantasy. If so, who was this madman and where was he now? Was it the Weasel? Did I know him from some time in my past? The heartless, spineless bastard had communicated we have her. And that was it. No further word. Now only silence, which was deafening.

I took a taxi from the airport and I thought of Frank Odenkirk, who had innocently taken a cab one night in August and wound up murdered on Alabama Avenue near Dupont Park. I hadn't thought about the Odenkirk case during the past weeks. I rarely had a thought about the Jane Doe murders while in Bermuda, but I was guiltily reminded of them now. Others had suffered painful losses because of the killer.

I wondered if any progress had been made, and who in the department was running the case, at least the Odenkirk part of it. On the other hand, I didn't feel that I could work on any of the other unsolved murders right now. I felt my place was still in Bermuda, and strange as it sounds, I nearly headed back as soon as I landed.

Then I could see our house up ahead on Fifth Street. Something strange was happening - there was a crowd.

Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

CHAPTER Fifty-One

Lots of people were standing on the porch and they were also clustered in front of the house when the cab arrived. Cars were parked and double-parked all along the street.

I recognized Aunt Tia. My sister-in-law Cilia and Nana were on the porch with the kids. Sampson was there with a girlfriend named Millie, a lawyer from the Justice Department.

Some of them waved as I pulled up, so I knew everything was all right. This wasn't more trouble. But what was it?

I saw my niece, Naomi, and her husband, Seth Taylor, who had come all the way from Durham, North Carolina. Jerome Thurman, Rakeem Powell, and Shawn Moore were standing on the front lawn.

'Hey, Alex, good to see you.' Jerome's deep voice boomed out at me as I passed near him on my way to the porch. I finally set down my travel bag and started shaking hands, giving out hugs, receiving back pats and kisses from all sides.

'We're all here for you.' Naomi said. She came over to me and hugged me tightly. 'We love you so much. But we'll go away if you don't want us here now.'

'No, no. I'm glad you're here, Scootchie.' I said, and kissed my niece on both cheeks. A while back, she'd been abducted in Durham, North Carolina. I had been there for her and so had Sampson. 'It's good that you and Seth are here. It's good to see everybody. You can't imagine how good it is.'

I hugged relatives and friends, my grandmother, my two beautiful kids, and I realized again how lucky I was to have so many good people in my life. Two teachers from the Sojourner Truth School had also come to the house. They were friends of Christine, and they started to cry when they came up to me. They wanted to know if any progress had been made and if there was anything they could do.

I told them that we had a witness to the abduction, and that we were more hopeful than ever. The teachers were buoyed by the news, which wasn't nearly as good as I made it sound. Nothing more had come of the one eyewitness account of the abduction. No one else had seen the white van that took away Christine.

Jannie finally cornered me in the backyard around nine o'clock. I had just spent half an hour with Damon in the basement, talking man to man, shadowboxing a little bit.

Damon had told me that he was having trouble remembering Christine's face, exactly what she looked like. I told him that it happened with people and that it was all right. We finally shared a long hug.

Jannie had patiently waited to talk with me.

'My mum?' she asked.

'Absolutely, sweetheart.'

Jannie then took my hand and pulled me forward into the house. She quietly led me upstairs, not to her room, but to mine.

'If you get lonely in here tonight, you can come to my room. I mean it.' she said as she gently shut the door on the two of us. She is so wise and has such a good perspective on so many things. Both she and Damon are such good kids. Nana says they have 'sound character', and it is building nicely. So far, so good.

'Thank you, sweetie. I will come to your room if it gets bad in here. You're very thoughtful and nice.'

'I am, Daddy. You helped me be this way, and I'm glad of it. Now I have a real serious question for you, Daddy. It's hard, but I have to ask anyway.'