Merry Christmas, Alex Cross Part 8

FOWLER WAS DEFINITELY TOYING WITH US, DEMONSTRATING THAT EVEN WHEN HE was in mortal danger, with threats from the snipers and SWAT a.s.saulters all around him, he was the one who decided who lived, who died. I could have gone the anger route, called him on it, put more pressure on him, but something told me it would backfire.

"You love your dog, Fowler?" I asked.

"What kind of man doesn't love his dog?" he replied sharply.

"A man who has a cat," I said.

"Funny, Cross."

"I appreciate you letting the dog go," I said. "What's the dog's name?"

"Mindy," Fowler said.

"We thank you for releasing Mindy, and I a.s.sure you she'll be well cared for. But I need more, Fowler, if I'm going to keep these trained professionals from kicking down your door and trying to blow your head off before you can hurt anyone else."

A long silence. "Like what?"

I looked over at Nu and McGoey and then said, "I want to come in again-with medical personnel. I want to take Barry out of there."

Fowler began to scream, finally going rhino. We heard things breaking, and then he came back on the line. "I don't care what you want! I want what I want! Barry's going to die! Got that? He's going to die for what he did to me! And so is my ex-wife. They took my life! Now I'm going to take theirs. I am going to kill them all."

"I'm coming in, Henry," I said. "Right now."

But he'd hung up.

CHAPTER

31

"PANCAKES OR WAFFLES?" NANA ASKED IN A VOICE SO CHEERFUL THAT everybody knew it was put on. Add to that the fact that both Jannie (always pro-waffle) and Damon (fiercely pro-pancake) said they didn't really care, and it was obvious that worry about Alex had pretty much sucked the joy right out of the holiday.

"It's Christmas," Nana finally said. "Why don't I just make both? Pancakes and and waffles coming up!" waffles coming up!"

No response from the kids.

Suddenly Nana yanked off her ap.r.o.n and flung it to the kitchen floor. "Enough of this!" she shouted and began to march up and down, swinging her fists like she was punching the heavy bag in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

That got everyone's attention.

"Now, you all listen to me," Nana said, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a wooden mixing spoon and shaking it at them. "I don't like this terrible situation any more than you do. I've got a grandson who's missing for Christmas. Does it make me gloomy? Does it make me angry? Does it make me sad?"

She peered around at them in the intimidating way she'd perfected as a vice princ.i.p.al. "The answer to all three of those questions is yes. It certainly does. My heart's as heavy as yours. I could burst into tears any minute. Fact is, I did, twice last night, and I may do it again. But the truth is, life has to be lived. This This Christmas is today. Now. Christmas is today. Now. This This Christmas will never come again. And I don't mean to be giving a holiday sermon, but Christmas is about hope and faith. And we'd all better realize that, you hear me? Hope and faith. You hear me?" Christmas will never come again. And I don't mean to be giving a holiday sermon, but Christmas is about hope and faith. And we'd all better realize that, you hear me? Hope and faith. You hear me?"

Except for bacon popping in the frying pan, the room was silent.

"I said-you hear me?"

"It's hard to feel hope and faith when you're sick to your stomach," said Jannie. "No one who doesn't live in a police family can understand what this feels like, Nana."

"It sucks," Damon added.

"I don't disagree with any of that," their great-grandmother said. "If it were easy, I wouldn't have to be delivering this lecture."

"Okay, we embrace hope and faith," Bree said. She squeezed Nana's shoulders and gave her a kiss. "At least, I do."

"Now, that's fine," Nana said. "I hope your stepchildren will have the same common sense. Now, whoever dropped my ap.r.o.n on the floor, please pick it up and give it to me."

Everyone laughed...a little.

"Then we'll have a real fine breakfast," she went on. "And then we'll go into the living room, and we'll each open up one gift. And then..."

"Then what?" Ava asked.

"Then Damon will go out and shovel the front walk. So when his father gets home we can all go to church. So when his father gets home we can all go to church."

CHAPTER

32

"YOU ARE NOT GOING BACK IN THERE," LIEUTENANT NU SAID. "I'LL NEVER BE able to look your wife in the eye again."

"Join the club on that one," I said, jumping up. "But I've got to go back in there, or that doctor is dead and maybe the others too. And I have a plan."

"And that plan is?" McGoey asked.

I told Nu that while I'd slept, part of my mind must have worked out what was really behind Fowler's fall from glory and his actions of the past twenty-four hours.

"We can use it, I think," I said, and I told them what I was considering.

"s.h.i.+t," Nu grumbled. "You do have to go back in there."

He hustled me into a SWAT armored vest, and I went back out into the blizzard once more. It was six thirty, a pale winter dawn, the second time I crossed Thirtieth Street to the Nicholsons' home. The newscasters and onlookers had been pushed back. Only the vans and the MPD officers, the medics, and the SWAT teams were allowed to remain close to the house.

I picked up the shovel the congressman's wife had brought me and started shoveling my way up the walk through thirteen inches of snow. Church bells rang from the direction of O Street, probably Christ Church. From the other direction, more bells, probably Mt. Zion.

More than ever I felt like I was part of something that was staining the celebration, and as I rapped on the front door, I felt ready to do some cleaning up. But was I right? Would my plan work?

I heard the creak of floorboards, and my resolve grew weaker.

The door opened. I stepped inside, hands raised. Fowler kicked shut the door, pushed me face-up against the wall, and frisked me again. "Not a good idea, Cross," he said as he searched me. "Coming back in here."

"Why's that?"

"I can't let you leave now."

CHAPTER

33

BECAUSE IT WAS CHRISTMAS MORNING, A SPECIAL DAY, NANA AGREED TO MAKE her sweet bacon. The recipe: thick bacon fried in a cast-iron skillet, then covered with brown sugar and baked in the oven.

"I only cook sweet bacon for a holiday or a birthday," she had always said. That used to be the rule of the house. Her house, she insisted, even though Alex had bought and paid for it. But once, Damon had insisted that Arbor Day was a real holiday, and Nana had agreed with him. And after that, she changed the rule. Now she said: "I only cook sweet bacon for a major major holiday or a birthday." holiday or a birthday."

Waffles. Pancakes. Cheese grits. And sweet bacon.

"There may be no need to cook the turkey later on," Bree said. "This meal could last me the whole day. Maybe the whole week."

"You speak for yourself," Damon said. "I'll be ready for turkey and mashed potatoes. And those yams I love with the mini-marshmallows."

The maple syrup was soaking into the waffles and pancakes. The sweet bacon strips were crunchy-crisp. And the mood was finally cheerful.

Then Jannie spoke. "You know, it seems to me there's only one thing missing from this breakfast table," she said.

They all immediately thought of Alex. A somber mood reinvaded the room. There was quiet. Nana squeezed her lips together to keep from tearing up. Bree looked out the window of the kitchen door.

Damon shot a why'd-you-make-everyone-feel-bad-again look at Jannie. She realized that her innocent comment had been misinterpreted and had upset everyone.

Jannie said, "Oh, no! Listen. Listen. What I meant was, what's missing are those ridiculous reindeer antlers and the flickering electric red nose that Damon puts on every Christmas."

"Oh, I forgot all about those stupid...those stunning stunning antlers," Nana said. antlers," Nana said.

"Get outta here," Damon said. "That's not happening. You wear the antlers. Nana can wear the antlers."

"n.o.body wears those antlers like you," Jannie said and giggled.

"Oh please, can I see them on you? Oh please, please," said Ava.

"I don't even know where those dumb things are," Damon said.

"Lucky for us I do," said Jannie. "I've got them right here."

And she produced from under her chair a pair of cloth antlers attached to a headband and decorated with a sprig of plastic holly. She also had a tiny red lightbulb fixed to a big rubber band that would fit snugly around Damon's head.

Then Nana said, "Before we see Damon dressed like a reindeer, let's join hands and say a prayer."

They held hands and bowed their heads. Nana spoke.

"Dear Lord, Who on this blessed Christmas Day brought Your Son into the world, we ask You to look with kindness on another son. Your son Alex. As he strives to help others, we ask You to help him. To keep him from harm. To protect him from evil. According to Your holy will."

Then together the Cross family said, "Amen."

CHAPTER

34

STRANGELY, THE SOUNDS I'D COME TO a.s.sOCIATE WITH THE NICHOLSON HOUSE were gone. No weeping, no screaming, and no children's voices. Even the crazy man who ran the show was silent as he walked behind me, prodding me forward with the muzzle of one of the shotguns.

I surveyed the wreckage of the room in the light that seeped in from behind the curtains. The three children were still lying on the floor and seemed to be sleeping. A red velvet club chair had been viciously slashed open since I left. A mahogany end table had been broken up and the pieces partially burned in the fireplace.

Diana sat cross-legged on the floor with her husband's head resting on her lap. She looked pale and exhausted. The doctor looked a whole lot worse. He lay motionless, his eyes closed. This was a life-or-death situation, and I had a good idea which side of the equation Nicholson was favoring.

I glanced at Fowler, who'd edged around the room but was still covering me with the shotgun. He was less manic than when I'd left him more than four hours before. His eyes were droopy, as if he'd taken something to counteract the methamphetamine, which meant he was vulnerable. That was good; if he almost pa.s.sed out, it would give me a chance to subdue him. But if he went back to the meth, he'd quickly turn unpredictable.

"Why are you wearing the vest?" he asked, and I thought I smelled liquor.

"My boss made me wear it," I replied as I moved toward Nicholson and his wife. "Said I couldn't come in here without it."

"Means they're coming soon," Fowler said.