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

He swore he would do it. First the twins, then Robert, and finally Lucy.

She kept prattling on and on about her day. He smiled blithely as she told him about her shopping trip to Bloomingdale's and Bath Body Works and Bruno Cipriani at the mall. He considered the supreme irony of taking truckloads of antidepressants, and being more depressed. Jesus, he was cycling down again. How low could he go?

'Come, seventeen.' he finally said aloud.

'What, darling?' Lucy suddenly asked. 'Did you just say something?'

'He's already playing tonight's game.' said Robert, and snickered. 'Right, Daddy? It's your fantasy game. Am I right?'

'Right, son.' Shafer replied, thinking, Christ, I am mad!

He let the dice gently fall on the dining table, though. He would kill them - if their number came up. The dice rolled over and over, finally banking off the greasy pizza box.

'Daddy and his games.' Lucy said, and laughed. Erica and Tricia laughed. Robert laughed.

Six, five, one, he counted. Damn, damn.

'Are the two of us going to play tonight?' Robert asked.

Shafer forced a smile. 'Not tonight, Rob Boy. I'd like to, but I can't. I have to go out again.'

Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

CHAPTER Sixty-Six

This was getting very interesting. Patsy Hampton watched Shafer leave the large and expensive house in Kalorama around eight thirty. He was off on another of his nightly jaunts. The guy was a regular vampire.

She knew that Cross and his friends called the killer the Weasel, and it certainly fit Shafer. There was something uncomfortable about him, something bent.

She followed the black Jag, but he didn't head toward Southeast, which disappointed her. He drove to a trendy supermarket, Sutton on the Run, which was just off Dupont Circle. Hampton knew the pricey store and called it Why Pay Less.

He parked the sports car illegally, then jogged inside. Diplomatic immunity. That pissed her the hell off. What a weasel he was, real Euro-trash.

While he was in the market, Hampton made a command decision. She was pretty sure she was going to talk to Alex Cross. She had thought a lot about it, the pros and cons. Now she figured that she might be endangering lives in Southeast by not sharing at least some of what she knew. If someone died, she wouldn't be able to bear it. Besides, Cross would have gotten the information if she hadn't interceded with Chuck Hufstedler.

Shafer shuffled back out of Sutton on the Run and glanced around crowded Dupont Circle. He had a small bag of overpriced groceries clutched in one arm. Groceries for whom, though? He didn't look in the direction of her Jeep, which was just peeking around the corner.

She followed the black Jag at a safe distance in the light traffic. He got on Connecticut Avenue. She didn't think he'd spotted her, though he was an MI6 man, so she needed to be careful.

Shafer wasn't far from Embassy Row. He wouldn't be going back to work now, would he? Why the groceries if he was headed to the embassy?

The Jaguar eventually turned into the underground garage of a prewar building in Woodley Park. THE FARRAGUT was engraved on a brass sign in front.

Patsy Hampton waited a few minutes, then she pulled into the garage behind the attendant in a small kiosk and identified herself.

"The Jag that came in before me, ever see it here before?' she asked.

The man nodded. He was around her age and she could tell he wanted to impress her if he could. 'Sure. I don't know him to talk to, though. Comes here to visit a lady on ten. Dr. Elizabeth Cassady. She's a shrink. I assume he's a patient. He's got a funny look in his eyes.' the attendant said, 'but so do most people.'

'How about me?' Hampton asked.

'Nah. Well, maybe a little.' the attendant said, and grinned.

Shafer stayed upstairs with Dr. Cassady for nearly two hours. Then he came down and went straight back to the house in Kalorama.

Patsy Hampton followed him, then watched the house for another half-hour. She thought that Shafer was probably in for the night. She drove to a nearby diner but didn't go inside right away. She picked up her mobile phone before she had too many second thoughts. She knew Cross's street, and got the phone number through information. Was it too late to call? Screw it, she was going through with this.

She was surprised when the phone was picked up on the first ring. She heard a pleasant male voice. Nice. Strong.

'Hello. Alex Cross.'

She almost hung up on him. Interesting that he'd intimidated her for a moment. 'This is Detective Patsy Hampton. I've been doing some work on the Jane Does. I've been following a man who is a suspect. I think we should talk.'

'Where are you, Patsy?' Cross said, without hesitation. 'I'll come to you. Just tell me where.'

'I'm at the City Limits diner on Connecticut Avenue.'

'I'm on my way,' said Cross.

Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

CHAPTER Sixty-Seven

I wasn't totally surprised that Pittman had assigned someone to the Jane Does. Especially after Zach Taylor's article in the Washington Post. I was interested in any leads Detective Hampton might have turned up.

I had seen Patsy Hampton around and she obviously knew who I was. She was supposed to be on a fast track; she was a smart and effective senior homicide detective, though from what I'd heard, she was also a lone wolf. She didn't have any friends in the department, as far as I knew.

She was much prettier than I remembered. She was in very trim, athletic shape, probably early thirties, short blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that cut through the diner haze.

She'd put on bright-red lipstick for our meeting, or maybe she wore it all the time. I wondered what was on her mind and what her motives were. I didn't think I could trust her.

'You or me first?' Detective Hampton asked, after we'd ordered coffee. We were seated at a table in the City Limits diner, near a window looking out on Connecticut Avenue.

'I'm afraid I don't know what this is about.' I told her.

She sipped her coffee and gave me a look over the cup's rim. She was a strong-willed, confident person. Her eyes told me that much.

'You really didn't know someone else was working on the Jane Does?'

I shook my head. 'Pittman said that the cases were closed. I took him at his word. He suspended some good detectives for working the cases after hours.'

'There's a lot of seriously nasty crap going on in the department. So what's new though,' she said as she set down her cup. She gave a deep sigh. 'I thought I could deal with it by myself. Now I'm not so sure.'

'Pittman assigned you to the Jane Does? Personally?'

She nodded, then her blue eyes narrowed. 'He assigned me to the Glover and Cardinal murders, and any others I wanted to look into. Gave me free rein.'

'And you say you have something?'

'Maybe. I've got a possible suspect. He's involved in a role-playing game that features victims being murdered, mostly in Southeast. It's all after-the-fact stuff, so he could have read the news stories and then fantasized about them. He works at the British Embassy.'

This was a new piece of information, and it surprised me. 'How far have you gone with this?'

'Not to Pittman, if that's what you mean. I've done a little discreet checking on the suspect. Trouble is, he seems to be a solid citizen. Very good at his job - supposedly. At least that's the official word from the embassy. Nice family in Kalorama. I've been watching Shafer a little, hoping I'd get lucky. His first name is Geoffrey.'

I knew she was supposed to be a little bit of a loose cannon, and that she didn't suffer fools gladly. 'You're out here alone tonight?' I asked her.

Hampton shrugged. 'That's how I usually operate. Partners slow me down. Chief Pittman knows how I like to work. He gave me the green light. All green, all day long.'