Alex Cross, Run (Alex Cross 20)

NOT LONG AFTER RON GUIDICE DIED, HIS FULL SITUATION CAME TO LIGHT. It was his mother who called the authorities, when her son’s name became a national headline.

It took another five days after that and two independent DNA tests to confirm that the baby in Lydia Guidice’s care was in fact Rebecca Reilly. Also, that her sister, Emma Lee Guidice, was the biological daughter of both Ron Guidice and Amanda Simms, the first pregnant girl in our pregnant girl cases.

It brought up all kinds of reverberating speculation about Ava, and what Guidice might have had planned for her before she died. But Ava’s cremation was already behind us now. A small, intimate memorial service had been held. She had no dental records at all, and her remains had been identified to the extent that they could.

But that was it. None of us were prepared to confront the possibility that she’d been pregnant at the end. That question was just going to have to fade off into the great unknown, which was probably for the best.

But I’ll always wonder, of course. I’ll wonder about a lot of things from this case.

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When Child and Family Services took custody of Guidice’s two daughters, Bree and I worked with the agency to make sure Mrs. Guidice could see the girls from time to time. She may not have been competent to raise them, but she also wasn’t criminally negligent here. I felt sorry for her more than anything.

Stephanie agreed to shepherd their case, and she also promised not to give up until she found a home where both girls could live together. In the meantime, they were placed into emergency foster care at a small, well-run facility in Foggy Bottom.

Taking in Rebecca and Emma Lee ourselves wasn’t something we could even contemplate, starting with the fact that we’d just lost Ava. But Bree and I did make several visits to the home in those early months.

“Look at you,” I said, the first time Bree actually met Rebecca. She was cradling the baby in a rocking chair, going slowly back and forth like she’d done it a million times. “You’re good at that.”

Bree just shrugged and kept her eyes on Rebecca in the way that—yes, I’m going to say it—only a woman can look at a baby.

The subject of having our own kids wasn’t really on the table anymore. We’d talked about it before we got married, and had already put it behind us. But life’s a circle sometimes, isn’t it? The thing you thought you left behind can come back around, until it’s sitting right there in front of you, all over again.

I’m not saying Bree and I made any kind of new plans that day, or even that there were going to be any new plans. But if I had to guess, I’d say that we were probably feeling some of the same things as she sat there, rocking Rebecca back to sleep.

After a while, Bree looked up and caught me staring at her.

“What is it?” she said.

“Nothing,” I said.

She smiled like she could read my mind. “Nothing, huh?”

Now it was my turn to shrug. “You just look really beautiful right now,” I told her. “That’s all.”

“It’s this little girl,” she said. “She looks good on me.”

And I couldn’t argue with that.

CHAPTER

110

“ALEX, COME ON IN. HAVE A SEAT. IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU.”

I admire Adele Finaly quite a bit. I think she’s one of the finest psychotherapists I’ve ever seen in action.

I guess that’s why I put up with her No Shoes rule during sessions. I didn’t even think about it anymore. I just left my trainers on the mat by the door of her plant-filled office, and went to sit in my usual spot on the couch.

“It’s been a while,” she said, settling into her own flowered armchair. “Was there anything specific that precipitated this call?”

She reminds me of Audrey Hepburn, or Lena Horne. Adele has a way of being incredibly smart and accessible at the same time.

“Just the oldest question in the book,” I said. “My book, anyway.”

“Ah.” She smiled sympathetically. “That one.”

I spent a good chunk of the session with her just explaining everything that had happened in the last month. She knew who Ava was, but not how badly it had all turned out.