Double Cross (Alex Cross 13)

“We didn’t have sufficient support on the ground. The CO didn’t give a rat’s ass. We had a mission. That’s all he cared about,” he said.

“How long had you been there at that point?”

Silence. Then, “Ground attack started end of the month, so a couple of weeks, I guess.”

I was becoming more and more convinced that something really bad had happened to him during Desert Storm, something that could be a key to Anthony’s difficulties, maybe even an incident he’d repressed. The balance in this case was between not wanting to push too hard and a gut feeling that he wasn’t going to stick with the therapy for long, especially if he didn’t think we were making enough progress.

“I did some research,” I said on the tape. “You were Twenty-fourth Infantry Division, right? This was just before you all started toward Basra.”

“How did you know that?”

“It’s part of history. You were part of history. The information isn’t very hard to find, Anthony. Is there anything that happened there that you don’t want to talk about? To me . . . or anyone else?”

“Maybe there is. Probably some stuff I don’t want to get into. I don’t blame anyone for what happened, though.”

His speech was faster now, and clipped, as though he wanted to get past this part.

“Blame anyone for what?” I asked.

“For any of the shit that happened. You know, I enlisted on my own. I wanted to go.”

I waited, but there was no elaboration.

“That’s it for now,” Anthony said then. “A little too much, too soon. Next time. I need to ease into this, Doc. Sorry about that.”

I clicked off the tape recorder and sat back in my chair, thinking. I knew he was losing ground lately, even with the subsidized housing he had. Another month or two of unemployment could be a real problem for him. People like Anthony Demao slipped through the cracks all the time.

I rubbed my eyes hard and poured myself another cup of coffee. There was a lot to think about, maybe too much. I had one more client coming—and then later that afternoon, a meeting at police headquarters.

A big one.

Chapter 39

IT WAS TIME to trade on my reputation and laurels in a way I’d never done before. I knew that Chief of Police Terrence Hoover would take a meeting if I asked, especially since I had cleared it through the chief of detectives first. I was less sure if Hoover would agree to the ridiculousness I was about to propose to him. We’d have to see about that.

“Alex, come in. Sit down,” he said as I stood like a moke in his doorway. A college-wrestling photo on the wall behind him showed the younger Hoover at the University of Maryland and explained where that crushing handshake of his came from. “I haven’t heard from you in a long time.”

“I appreciate you seeing me, Chief. Needless to say, there’s something on my mind.”

Hoover smiled. “So we’re skipping the idle chitchat, huh? Okay. What are you after, Alex?”

“Nothing too complicated. Just a job.”

Hoover blinked and ducked his double chin. “A job? Well, shit, Alex, that is a surprise. I thought you were coming to ask me for something. Instead, you’re here to offer me something.”

That was a relief to hear. “Thanks for saying that, Chief. I guess I’ll keep offering, then.”

“Please do. You’re on a roll. I definitely want to hear the rest of the pitch.”

Here it went.

“Some cops talk about wanting to make a difference. I guess I would say that I believe I can do more good than harm, and that’s a reasonable objective. I want to come back on the force but in a limited capacity. I’d like to work the Major Case Squad, but outside of the regular rotation. Specific assignments only. I’ve been consulting on the Kennedy Center and Connecticut Avenue murder cases already, and if any of this is agreeable to you, it would be a seamless reentry for me. I know the team, and I think I could be an asset.”

Hoover laughed out loud. “I’ve heard some pretty good speeches in here, but that one goes on the short list.” He pointed at me. “You know you can afford to be this cocky ’cause you know damn well I’m gonna say yes.”

“Just figured I’d lay it out there.”

He stood up, and so did I. “Well, the answer is yes. Let me have Arlene call recruiting, and I’ll speak to the superintendent myself. We’ll work something out.”