Cross Justice (Alex Cross 23)

“Just a friendly suggestion. I think Jannie will get bored running with the girls up here, and there are more suitable training partners an hour away.”

“We’ll talk about it,” I said. “And it will depend on my family situation.”

“Just know the door’s open for her,” the coach said, and she jogged off.

The three Starksville girls were coming across the track, and Greene high-fived them as she went by, told them, “Tuesday afternoon.”

The girls shot me hostile glances as they passed and then went on chattering about something. I watched Jannie kick into her rubber sandals and shoulder her bag. Every move she made was efficient and natural; even the way she ambled was fluid, her shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles in perfect, loose sync.

I realize I’m bragging on my own daughter here, but, proud papa aside, I knew enough about athletics to understand that you couldn’t teach what Jannie had. It was genetic, a blessing from God, a level of physical awareness so far beyond my comprehension that at that moment, I looked up to the sky and asked for guidance.

Jannie came up beside me, shaded her eyes, and scanned the sky too. “What’s up there?”

I put my arm around her and said, “Everything.”

Chapter

23

We got home at around twenty past eight. Ali was up but still in his pajamas, sitting on the couch and watching a deep-sea-fishing show on the Outdoor Channel, one of the few stations that came in well.

“This is cool, Dad,” Ali said. “They hook these huge marlin and they take like hours reeling them in so they can be tagged and tracked.”

“That is cool,” I said, peering at the turquoise waters. “Where is this?”

“The Canary Islands. Where’s that?”

“Off Africa, I think.”

Bree and Nana Mama were in the kitchen, making breakfast.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Bree asked as I came in the room. “I wanted to go.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was trying to let you rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m in Jamaica,” she said firmly.

I saluted her, said, “Detective Stone.”

“At ease,” Bree said, breaking into a soft smile. “After you eat, can we drive around? Like, all around?”

“So I can give you the lay of the land?” I said. “Sure, that makes sense.”

“Take me too,” Nana Mama said. “I’m going stir-crazy sitting in this house when all there is on the television is fishing and hunting shows. And I don’t care what Connie Lou says about how much Starksville’s changed. When I close my eyes, I see it as it was.”

Oddly, I didn’t. I realized that I hadn’t thought of the bungalow as my childhood home or as my parents’ home since that first night in town. The psychologist in me wondered why that was. And what about my aunts insisting I’d witnessed my father being dragged by a rope? Was I blocking it? If yes, why?

“You all right, Alex?” Bree asked, handing me a plate.

“Huh?”

“You’re brooding about something,” she said.

“Feels like a brooding day.” I shrugged, sat down at the table, and began to eat.

Naomi came in, said, “Isn’t this where we left off?”

“Nothing wrong with having two breakfasts in eight hours,” Nana Mama said. “You want anything, dear?”