Kill Alex Cross (Alex Cross 18)

I wanted to say, interested in what? But I was sure I already knew. Before I could say anything else, Ned got to his feet.

“Go home, Alex. You’ve got my number if you want to … you know. Talk.”

“Talk,” I said. “Right. I do have your number.”

He hunched his shoulders against the wind and blew into his hands. “Should have worn a jacket out here,” he said. “Cold as hell.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Cold as hell for sure.

RECORD.

“After I left Cross, I was almost overwhelmed by my own emotion. I’d done it, I’d won. I’d beaten all of them and I was still winning every single battle. Every one.

“And yet I felt a subtle change in myself. Was I so filled with guilt … that I was someone different now? Why hadn’t I struck out at Cross?

“The honest truth: I wasn’t as impressed by him as I thought I might be. But was he playing me? Setting me up for the kill? He was certainly physically imposing, and smart, I suppose. He’s definitely passionate about what he’s doing.

“But I don’t believe he’s going to catch me, to stop me, to put me away for what I’ve done, the awful things.

“I’m not afraid of Cross.

“But that’s not what my feelings are about. This isn’t about the detective; it’s about me. I know that to be perfectly safe I should do nothing about him. I’m clever enough to figure out something deadly. I’m good enough to execute it, and get away with it.

“So why haven’t I acted? What’s stopping me? Is it guilt? Remorse over what I’ve done to the children? Maybe something got to me — something about Cross’s kids, or his wife, or Cross himself? His passion is inspiring.

“Or is it this: I know I can’t stop myself and I want Cross to do it for me?

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t believe I want to be stopped. I’ve won … and I rather like that.”

WHEN I GOT home that night, I could hear the kids going at it down in the basement. Ever since Ava had come to stay with us, the three of them were getting on like a house on fire, and they’d turned the downstairs into their own makeshift all-in-one clubhouse, boxing gym, and movie theater.

Bree and Nana were in the living room, stuffing envelopes for Southeast Children’s House. That was the name of the charter school Sampson and Billie were still struggling to start up … without much help from me these days.

I flopped down on the couch with my plate of leftovers and a Budweiser.

“What’s the good word?” Bree said, sliding me a sideways kiss, then another. She smelled good, felt even better. I’d missed her.

“All bad,” I finally told her. I couldn’t get Mahoney’s offer out of my head, but this was not the time or place to talk about it. I was home now.

I reached down and picked up a tattered paperback copy of Precious, which someone had left on the floor. It was the movie tie-in version, with the amazing lead actress, Gabourey Sidibe, on the cover.

“Is Jannie reading this for school?” I asked. “Tough story. Good one.”

“Actually, I got that for Ava,” Nana said. “I told her she needed some meat and potatoes to go with those comic books she’s been gobbling down.”

“Speaking of Ava,” Bree said. “We got a call from Anita at Child and Family Services today. Just checking in to see how things are going.”

“I guess that means they don’t have a placement for her,” I said, forking up a mouthful of meat loaf and sweet potato.

“I think Anita’s hoping they have one,” Bree said. “She thinks Ava’s going to make it.”

I looked up from my plate to see both of them staring at me.

“Don’t look so surprised, Alex,” Nana said. “You knew they’d push for this.”

“Let them,” I said. “We still need to get Ava into a real foster home before she gets too settled here. Or too attached.”