Four Blind Mice (Alex Cross 8)

At a little before midnight.

In the mountainside pool overlooking Phoenix and the sprawl of the desert.

“I trust you too,” I said as the big American Airlines jet passed right over our heads.

Part Three

THE FOOT SOLDIER

Chapter 57

I GOT BACK to Washington on Sunday night at eleven. There was more of a bounce in my step and a smile plastered on my face. I’d forgotten about the rigors of the murder investigation for a couple of days, and Jamilla was the reason why.

Nana was waiting up in the kitchen. What was this? She sat at the table without her usual cup of tea and without a book to read. When she saw me come in, she waved me over and gave me a hug. “Hello, Alex. You have a good trip? You say hello to Jamilla for me? You better.”

I looked down into her brown eyes. They seemed a little sad. Couldn’t hide it from me. “Something’s wrong.” Fear had grabbed at me already. Was she sick? How sick?

Nana shook her head. “No, not really, sweetheart. I just couldn’t sleep. So tell me about the trip. How was Jamilla?” she asked, and her eyes brightened. Nana definitely liked Jamilla. No hiding that either.

“Oh, she’s good and she says hello too. She misses everybody. I hope I can get her to come east again, but you know, she’s a California girl at heart.”

Nana nodded. “I hope she comes back,” she said. “Jamilla is a real strong woman. You’ve met your match with that one. I won’t hold it against her that she’s from out west. Anyway, I guess Oakland is more like D.C. than San Francisco. Don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

I continued to look into Nana’s eyes. I didn’t get it. She wasn’t giving me a hard time the way she usually does. What was up? We were quiet for the next minute or so. Unusual for us. We usually jabber back and forth until one of us surrenders.

“You know, I’m eighty-two years old. I never felt like I was seventy, or seventy-five, or even eighty. But Alex, suddenly I feel my age. I’m eighty-two. Give or take.”

She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. The sadness was back in her eyes, maybe even a little fear. I felt a lump in my throat. Something was wrong with her. What was it? Why wouldn’t she tell me?

“I’ve had a pain lately in my chest. Shortness of breath. Angina or whatever. Not so good, not so good.”

“Have you seen Dr. Rodman? Or Bill Montgomery?” I asked.

“I saw Kayla Coles. She was in the neighborhood treating a man a few houses down from us.”

I didn’t understand. “Who’s Kayla Coles?”

“Dr. Kayla makes house calls in Southeast. She’s organized about a dozen doctors and nurses who come into the neighborhood to help people here. She’s a fabulous doctor, and a good person, Alex. She’s doing a lot of good in Southeast. I like her tremendously.”

I bristled a little. “Nana, you’re not some charity case. We have money for you to see a doctor of your choice.”

Nana squeezed her eyes shut. “Please. Listen to me. And pay attention to what I’m saying. I’m eighty-two and I won’t be around forever. Much as I’d like to be. But I’m taking care of myself so far, and I plan to keep doing it. I like and trust Kayla Coles. She is my choice.”

Nana got up slowly from the table, kissed me on the cheek, and then shuffled off to bed. At least we were fighting again.

Chapter 58

LATER THAT NIGHT, I went up to my attic office. Everyone was asleep and the house was quiet.

I liked working when it was peaceful like this. I was back on the army case; I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Didn’t want to. The bodies painted in bright colors. The eerie straw dolls. The even spookier all-seeing eye. Innocent soldiers punished by wrongful executions.

And who knew how many more soldiers might be scheduled for execution?

There was plenty of material to go through. If even only some of these executions were linked, it would be a huge bombshell for the army. I continued my research, did some spadework on the straw doll and

the evil eye. I did a search on Lexis-Nexis, which held information from most local and national newspapers and the major international ones. A lot of detectives underestimate the usefulness of press research, but I don’t. I have solved crimes using information passed on to the press by police officers.