Patterson, James - Alex Cross 1 - Along Came A Spider

Her long legs were wonderfully athletic. Her feet were long, too, nicely shaped, as beautiful as feet get. For the moment, she reminded me of ladies who went to the University of Florida, Miami, South Carolina, Vanderbilt. I hadn't found a part of her that wasn't special to look at.

“Believe it or not, this water's seventy-five degrees,” she said with a big slow-motion smile.

“On the dot?” I asked.

“I'd have to say so. On the button. Are you game, or are you lame?”

“What will the neighbors say? I didn't pack my bathing suit. Or anything else.” “That was the basic plan, no plan. Imagine - A whole Saturday with no plan. No trial. No press interviews. No missiles from the Dunnes. Like Thomas Dunne on Larry King this week. Complaining about the investigation leading up to the trial, peppering my name everywhere again. No earthshaking kidnapping case to weigh down on you. Just the two of us out here in the middle of nowhere. ”

“I like the sound of that,” I told Jezzie. “In the middle of nowhere. ” I looked around, following the line where the fir trees met clear blue sky. “That's our name for this place, then. In the Middle of Nowhere, North Carolina.”

“Seriously, Jez. What about the neighbors? We're in the Tarheel State, right? I don't want any tar on my heels. ”

She smiled. “There's nobody around for a couple of miles at least, Alex. No other houses, believe it or not. It's too early for anybody but the bass fishermen. ”

“I don't want to meet a couple of backwoods Tarheel bass fishermen, either.” I said. “In their eyes, I might be a black bass. I've read James Dickey's Deliverance. ”

“Fishermen all go to the south end of the lake. Trust me, Alex. Let me undress you. Make you a little more comfortable. ”We'll undress each other." I surrendered and gave myself over to her, to the slow-down pace of the perfect morning.

On the dock of the bay we undressed each other. The morning sun was toasty warm and I was aware of the lake breeze fanning our bare skin.

I tested the water with my foot, my own well-turned ankle. Jezzie wasn't exaggerating about the temperature. “I wouldn't lie to you. I never have yet,” she said with another smile.

She dived in perfectly, then, making almost no splash on the water surface.

I followed in the light trail of her bubbles. As I penetrated the underwater, I was thinking: a black man and a beautiful white woman swimming together.

In the middle South. In this Year of Our Lord, nineteen hundred and ninety-three. We were being reckless, and maybe just a little crazy. Were we wrong? Some people would say so, or at least think it. But why was that? Were we hurting anyone by being together?

The water was warm on top. But it was much colder five or six feet down. It looked blue-green. It was probably spring-fed. Near the bottom, I could feel strong undercurrents striking my chest and genitals.

A thought struck me hard: Could we Dealing deeply in love? Was that what I was feeling now? I came up for air.

“Did you touch bottom? You have to touch bottom the day's first dive.”

“Or what?” I asked Jezzie.

“Or you're a lily-livered chicken, and you'll drown or be lost forever in the deep woods before day's end. That's a true tale. I've seen it happen many, many times here in the Middle of Nowhere.”

We played like children in the lake. We'd both been working hard. Too hard-for almost a year of our lives.

There was a cedar ladder, the easy way back up onto the dock. The ladder was newly built. I could smell the freshness of the wood. There weren't any splinters yet. I wondered if Jezzie had built it herself-on her vacation-j ust before the kidnapping.

We held on to the ladder, and on to each other. Somewhere distant on the lake, ducks honked. It was a funny sound. There was little more than a ripple on the water table that stretched out before us. Tiny waves tickled under Jezzie's chin.

“I love you when you're like this. You get so vulnerable,” she said. “The real you starts to show up.”

“I feel like everything's been unreal for such a long time,” I said to Jezzie. “The kidnapping. The search -for Soneji. The trial in Washington.”

“This is the only thing that's real for the moment. Okay? I like being with you so.” Jezzie put her head on my chest.

“You like it so?”

“Yes. I like it so. See how uncomplicated it can be?” She gestured around at the picturesque lake, the deep ring of fir trees. “Don't you see? It's all so natural. It will be fine. I promise. No bass fishermen will ever come between us.”

Jezzie was right. For the first time in a very long time, I felt as if everything could work out-everything that might happen from now on. Things were as slow and uncomplicated and good as could be. Neither of us wanted the weekend to end.

Along Came A Spider

CHAPTER 61

M A HOMICIDE DETECTIVE with the Washington

Police Department. My official rank is divisional chief. Sometimes, I get assigned to violent crimes where there are psychological considerations that might -mean something to the case."

I stated this under oath inside a crowded, hushed, very electric Washington courtroom. It was Monday morning. The weekend seemed a million miles away Beads of perspiration started to roll across my scalp.

“Can you tell us why you are assigned cases with psychological implications?” Anthony Nathan asked me.

“I'm a psychologist as well as a detective. I had a private practice before I joined the D.C. police force,” I said. “Prior to that, I worked in agriculture. I was a fnigrant farrnworker for a year.”

“Your degree is from?” Nathan refused to be distracted from establishing me as an impressive-as-hell person.

“As you already know, Mr. Nathan, my doctorate is from Johns Hopkins.”

“One of the finest schools in the country, certainly this part of the country,” he said.

“Objection. That's Mr. Nathan's opinion.” Mary Warner made a fair legal point.

Judge Kaplan upheld the objection.

“You've also published articles in Psychiatric Archives, in the American Journal of Psychiatry. ” Nathan continued as if Ms. Warner and Judge Kaplan were inconsequential.

“I've written a few papers. It's really not such a big deal, Mr. Nathan. A lot of psychologists publish.”

“But not in the Journal and Archives, Dr. Cross. What was the subject of these learned articles?”

“I write about the criminal mind. I know enough three-and four-syllable words to qualify for the so-called learned journals. ”

“I admire your modesty, I honestly do. Tell me something, Dr. Cross. You've observed me these past few weeks. How would you describe my personality?”

“I'd need some private sessions for that, Mr. Nathan. I'm not sure if you could pay me enough for the therapy - ”

There was laughter throughout the courtroom. Even Judge Kaplan enjoyed a rare moment of mirth. “Hazard a guess,” Nathan continued. "I can take it.

He had a quick and very inventive mind. Anthony Nathan was highly creative. He had first established that I was my own witness, not an “expert” in his pocket.

-,'You're neurotic.“ I smiled. ”And probably devi,ous. "

Nathan faced the jury and turned his palms up. “At least he's honest. And if nothing else, I get a free shrink session this morning. ”

More laughter came from the jury box. This time, I got the feeling that some of the jurors were beginning to change their minds about Anthony Nathan, and maybe about his client as well.

They had intensely disliked him at first. Now they saw that he was engaging, and very, very bright. He was doing a professional, maybe even a brilliant, job for his client.