Alex Cross, Run (Alex Cross 20)

“Have you seen the news?” Marti asked. “I think he gave a dozen ‘exclusive’ interviews last night. Plus, that goddamn blog of his.”

“I’m sorry about all this,” I said. “You’re going to be down an investigator for a while.”

“I don’t think I’ll be any worse off than you,” she said. “I can tell, just looking at your face.”

It was true. Maybe I was “free,” but I was still in a holding pattern. Cop purgatory.

“Now, why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go see your family?” Huizenga said.

“You sure?” I said. In fact, that’s exactly what I needed.

“I’m sure,” Marti told me, finally cracking a smile. “I think the filing can probably wait until tomorrow.”

CHAPTER

63

IT’S LESS THAN A TWO-MILE WALK FROM HEADQUARTERS TO OUR HOUSE, BUT Bree insisted on picking me up that morning. My car was still in Georgetown, and I’d have to go get it later. For now I just wanted to go home, shower, and give my family whatever they needed for the rest of the day. The kids would be in school until three fifteen, so there was plenty of time to regroup with Nana and Bree.

So I thought.

When I got into Bree’s white Explorer in front of the Daly Building, I expected her to be glad to see me but also still pissed about my arrest. What I got instead was tears.

She put her arms around me and we kissed. “Are you okay?” she said. I could see then how red her eyes were, and how long she’d been crying.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Are you okay?”

She clearly wasn’t. “I was going to try and get you home first, but—you have to know, Alex. They’re removing Ava from the house. Today.”

“What? Who’s taking her?” I said.

“Child and Family Services. Stephanie called first thing this morning. Given that Ava’s been using lately, and now these drug charges against you—”

I went straight from disbelief to anger. “This is bullshit,” I said. “I’ve barely even been charged, much less convicted.”

But it was just the anger talking. I knew better, and so did Bree.

“They don’t have a choice. They have to err on the side of caution,” she said. “And they’re not waiting, either. Stephanie’s coming at five o’clock to get her.”

In other words, the whole guilty until proven innocent thing was now reverberating into my personal life. My family life. And Ron Guidice was to blame for all of it.

“Where’s she going?” I said.

“For now? Into a group home, up in Northeast. They’re moving her in tonight.”

It just got worse and worse. DC’s group homes are a random mix of kids who have nowhere else to go—orphans, thugs, bangers, all of it. Other than actually living on the street, a group home was the last place I’d want Ava to land.

Bree told me we had an eleven o’clock appointment with our family attorney, Juliet Freeman. That was good. We’d already consulted with Juliet on some preliminary adoption issues for Ava, and Bree had gotten her up to speed on the current situation. Now I just wanted to get home so we could turn around and start doing something about this.

The morning traffic was still aggravatingly thick. It took way too long to crawl up Constitution Avenue, past the white dome of the Capitol and into Southeast. By the time we were passing Seward Square, where we’d first found Ava, Bree and I had both fallen into a depressed silence.

Nana wasn’t in any better shape, either. When I came into the house, she was tearing around the kitchen as fast as a ninety-year-old woman can do. She likes to keep busy when she’s upset, and it looked to me like she’d been cooking all morning. I could smell fresh bread baking in the oven.

When she saw me, she stopped, and her arms dropped to her sides. I went over and hugged her tight.

“We were just getting somewhere with her,” Nana said. “Just starting to crack that little shell of hers. And now—”

“Now, we’re going to get Alex some breakfast,” Bree said. “We’re going to meet Juliet at eleven. And we’re going to fight this.”