Alex Cross: Cross Justice Part 14

I had a crick in my lower back suddenly, and I stood to stretch. When I did, I happened to look down at the files; I saw the faded labels on the tabs, and felt my head retreat by several degrees.

The label of the file on top read Cross, Christina.

The one below it read Cross, Jason.

I picked up the file on my mother and was about to flip it open when Bree said in alarm, "Alex, you can't just start going-"

"Oh, Jesus," Pedelini said.

I looked up, saw the detective balancing a coffee mug and two cans of Mr. Pibb on a small tray. His skin had lost three shades of color.

"I am so sorry, Dr. Cross," he said, chagrined. "I ... I ran your name through our databases, and those files came up. So I ... requested them."

"My name?" I said. "What are these?"

Pedelini swallowed, set the tray down, and said, "Old investigative files."

"On what?" Bree said, standing to look.

The detective hesitated, and then said, "Your mother's murder, Dr. Cross."

At first I thought I'd misheard him. I squinted and said, "You mean my mother's death?"

"I don't think so," Pedelini replied. "They were filed under homicide."

"My mother died of cancer," I said.

The detective looked puzzled. "No, that's not right. The database says murder by asphyxiation, case eventually closed due to the death of chief suspect, who was shot trying to escape the police and fell into the gorge."

In total shock, I said, "Who was the chief suspect?"

"Your father, Dr. Cross. Didn't you know?"

Part Three

UNDERWORLD.

CHAPTER 31.

THREE HOURS LATER, Bree drove us back through the streets of Birney. The pain of reading those files was still raw, still searing.

Bree put her hand on mine, said, "I can't imagine what you're going through right now, Alex. But I'm here for you, sugar. Any way you need me, I'm here for you."

"Thank you. I ... this just changes everything, you know?"

"I know, baby," Bree said, and she pulled up in front of the bungalow where the files said my dad had smothered my mother with a pillow.

I got out of the car feeling like I'd just been released from the hospital after a life-threatening illness, weak and unsure of my balance. I started toward the front porch with my mind playing tricks on me, seeing flashes of shattered, disjointed memories: my boyhood self running down the train tracks in the rain; watching my father being dragged by a rope; and, finally, staring at my mother's dead body in her bed, looking so frail, and small, and empty.

I don't remember falling, only that I hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me and set my world spinning.

"Alex?" Bree cried, rus.h.i.+ng to my side.

"I'm okay." I gasped. "Must have tripped or ... Where's Nana?"

"Probably inside," Bree said.

"I need to talk to her," I said.

"I know you do, but-"

"Dad!" Ali cried, pus.h.i.+ng open the screen door and jumping off the stoop.

"I'm okay, son," I said, getting to my feet. "Just haven't eaten enough."

The door slammed again. Naomi came out, looking concerned.

"He got a little dizzy," Bree explained.

"Where's Nana?" I asked.

"At Aunt Hattie's," she said. "They're making dinner."

"I think you need to go inside and lie down, Alex," Bree said.

"Not now," I said, and I fixed on my aunt's house like it was a beacon in the night.

I took my tentative first steps still bewildered and seeking solace from my grandmother. But by the time I was on Hattie's porch, I was moving fast, angry and seeking answers.

I stormed inside. Aunt Hattie, Aunt Connie, and Uncle Cliff were in the kitchen. My aunts were dipping tilapia fillets in flour, getting them ready to fry, when I walked in and said, "Where's Nana?"

"Right here," she said.

My grandmother was tucked into a chair on my left, reading a book.

I went to her, loomed over her, my hands balled into fists, and said, "Why'd you lie to me?"

Nana Mama said, "Take a step back there, young man. And what'd I lie to you about?"

"My mother!" I shouted. "My father! All of it!"

My grandmother shrank from me and raised her arm defensively, as if she thought I might hit her. The truth was I'd been on the verge of doing just that.

It rattled me. I stepped back, glanced around the room. My aunts were staring at me in fear, and Bree and Jannie and Ali and Naomi had come in and were looking at me like I had gone mad.

"None of that now," Uncle Cliff roared, standing up with his walker and shaking his finger at me. "No mugging old ladies on my train. You sit your a.s.s down, show me your ticket, or I will throw you off, next stop. You hear?"

Uncle Cliff trembled with force, and I was suddenly a kid again, weak and dizzy. I grabbed a chair and sat, put my head in my hands.

"Alex, what's happened?" Nana Mama demanded.

"Just tell me why you all lied to me," I said with a groan. "That's all I want to know."

CHAPTER 32.

"I SWEAR TO you, I knew nothing about this!" Nana Mama cried after Bree told her what we'd read in the files. She looked to my aunts, said, "Is this true? Did you know?"

Aunt Hattie and Aunt Connie were holding on to each other in such a way that they didn't have to say a word.

"Why?" Bree asked.

"Because," Aunt Hattie said, her voice shaking. "Those terrible things that went on, they were so traumatic, so horrible, that you, Alex, blocked it all out. It was like you'd never seen what happened to your father. We figured it was nature's way of helping you deal with it and that you'd be better off believing your mom died from the cancer and your dad from the drinking and the drugs."

"But why lie to me?" my grandmother demanded, as shaken as I'd been.

"You'd been through so much already and gone so far in life, Regina," Aunt Connie said, choking. "We didn't want to make you suffer any more than you had to. Alcohol and drugs, you could understand. Jason had been headed for that early grave already. But his killing Christina, and then the way he died. We just couldn't tell you. We thought it would break your heart when your heart needed to be strong for Alex and his brothers."

Nana Mama gazed off into a distance, her lower lip quivering, then looked at me and started to weep.

I went to her, got down on my knees, and laid my head in her tiny lap, feeling her anguish as my own, feeling her tears splash on my face as I said, "I'm sorry I called you a liar."

"I'm sorry 'bout everything, Alex," she said, stroking my head the way she used to when I first went to live with her. "I'm sorry about every bit of it."

There was a heaviness in the air when we finally got around to eating. No one said much the rest of the night. Or at least, I don't remember anything specific until I went to my aunts after dessert and forgave them. They cried all over again when we hugged.

Aunt Connie said, "We didn't mean all this to come out."

"I know," I said. "It's okay."

"You sure?" Aunt Hattie asked.

"You were trying to protect me," I said. "I get that."

Aunt Connie said, "But you still don't remember anything?"

"I've been getting flashes," I admitted. "But not much more than that."

Aunt Hattie said, "Maybe that's all G.o.d wants you to remember."

I nodded, kissed them both, and went out the door after my family. Jannie was already heading up the porch stoop to our bungalow. Bree was walking along with Ali and Naomi. Ali saw me, turned, and ran back.

I put my arm around my boy's shoulder, said, "See the lightning bugs?"

"Yeah," Ali said, like he didn't care.

"Hey," I said. "What's the matter?"

"Dad?" he said, not looking at me. "Can we go home?"

"What? No."

"But I don't like this place," he said. "I don't have any friends, and I don't like how it hurts you to be here. And how it hurts Nana."

I picked up my youngest and held him tight to me, saying, "I don't like how it hurts either, son. But I promised I'd help Stefan. And in this life, a man is only as good as his word."

CHAPTER 33.

AFTER Ma.s.s THAT Sunday morning, Nana Mama and I dropped Bree and the kids back at the bungalow. I drove us close to the arched bridge and parked. My grandmother took my arm, and we walked slowly out onto the span above the gorge.

The Stark River was roaring down there, throwing up white haystacks, spinning into dark whirlpools, and surging against the walls as far as the eye could see downstream. I remembered my parents were always telling me and my brothers never to go near the bridge or the river.

"Dad used to say there was no worse way to die than drowning," I told Nana Mama. "I honestly think he was scared of the gorge."

"Because I taught him to be scared of it," my grandmother said quietly. "My little brother, Wayne, died down there when he was six. They never found his body."

She said nothing for a few long moments, just stared at the roiling water four stories below us like it held terrible secrets.