Cross Justice (Alex Cross 23)

I said, “Come over to my aunt Connie’s. She’s got two extra rooms.”

Stefan’s fiancée looked too tired to argue. “Let me get a few things.”

“You’ll put a watch on my aunt’s place?” I asked the detectives when Patty and Naomi had gone back inside.

Frost said, “I can ask, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get it.”

“Budget cuts,” Carmichael explained.

Which meant Bree and I would have to take shifts watching the cul-de-sac. When Patty had thrown some things in a small bag, we skirted around the body of Sydney Fox. A coroner had a bright light on her, and a tech was taking pictures. It was only then that I realized she’d been hit in the forehead twice, two wounds three inches apart.

I remembered the pace of the shots, how quick and crisp they—

A male voice called out, “Dr. Cross?”

I slowed near Naomi’s car and saw a big, athletic guy in jeans and a black hoodie climbing from a gray Dodge pickup. He wore a badge on a chain around his neck, and he jogged over to us.

“Detective Guy Pedelini,” he said, smiling and extending his hand. “Stark County Sheriff’s Office. An honor to meet you, sir.”

“You too, Detective Pedelini,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Kind of outside your jurisdiction, aren’t you, Guy?” asked Naomi coolly.

Pedelini sobered, said, “Just paying my respects to your famous uncle, Counselor. But now that I’m here, can you tell me what happened?”

“A highly skilled rifleman in an old white Impala killed the wrong woman,” I said, and then I described what we’d heard yelled just before the shots.

The sheriff’s detective had gone stern, his full attention focused on me.

“Why do you say he’s highly skilled?”

“He was using a bolt-action rifle, not a semi or a pump, and he managed to put two rounds into Ms. Fox’s forehead before she hit the ground,” I said.

“A hunter,” Pedelini said.

“Or military trained,” I said. “Know any racists that fit the bill and own a beater Impala?”

The detective thought about that before shaking his head. “There are a couple of avowed racists around who drive beat-up old white cars and a fair number of decent hunters and ex-military types, but no one who’s capable of that kind of shooting. I mean, he’d have to have sniper training, wouldn’t he?”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“Why are you so interested in this, Guy?” Naomi said.

“Someone tries to kill a material witness in a heinous murder case that went down in my jurisdiction, I’m interested, Counselor,” Pedelini said.

“Why would you care if I was shot?” Patty Converse said. “I’m a witness for the defense. You think Stefan’s guilty.”

“I do,” Pedelini agreed. “I think he’s guilty as sin. But that doesn’t stop me from being concerned about the safety of everyone else. See, Ms. Converse, I don’t want there to be any doubt about this trial. I want the judge and jury to hear both sides fully and then deliberate and condemn your fiancé, put him in Central Prison over in Raleigh, and get him in line for a lethal injection.”

Chapter

19

It was past eleven when Naomi pulled up and parked in front of Aunt Connie’s bungalow. I climbed out, meaning to head for my old house and my family. But I saw that the lights were all out there. Bree opened the front door to my aunt’s place.

I’d called Bree within minutes of Sydney Fox’s death, but we’d agreed it was better that she stay where she was while I talked to the police.

Bree hugged me, kissed me, and said, “Your aunt figured you’d all be starving, so she’s been cooking and consoling.”