“Let’s head on home,” I finally said to Damon. “I just remembered this is a school night for you.”
“Let’s stay up and watch the Bullets play the Orlando Magic,” he coaxed and grabbed onto my elbow.
“Oh—sure. No, let’s get Jannie up and we’ll all pull an all-nighter,” I said and laughed loudly. We both laughed, sharing the jokey moment.
I slept in with the kids that night. I was definitely not over the murder at the Truth School. Sometimes, we’ll throw blankets and pillows on the floor and sleep there as if we were homeless. It gives Nana fits, but I believe she thrives on her fits, so we make certain she has one every other week or so.
As I lay there with my eyes open, and both kids sleeping peacefully, I couldn’t help thinking about Shanelle Green. It was the last thing I needed to think about. Why had someone brought the body back to the schoolyard? I wondered. There are always loose ends on cases, but this one made no sense, so it concerned me. It was a piece that didn’t fit in a puzzle that was supposed to be finished.
Then I began thinking about Mrs. Johnson for a moment or two. That was a better place to be. She’s even tougher than you are, Daddy. What a glowing recommendation from my little man. It was almost a dare. Everybody likes Mrs. Johnson, Damon had said.
I wondered what her first name was. I made a wild guess—Christine. The name just came to me. Christine. I liked the sound of it in my head.
I finally nodded off to sleep. I slept with the kids in the pile of blankets and pillows on the bedroom floor. No monsters visited us that night. I wouldn’t let them.
The dragonslayer was on guard. Tired and sleepy and oversentimental, but ever so watchful.
CHAPTER
17
THIS WAS REALLY NUTS, insane, demented. It was so great! The killer wanted to go for it again, right now. Right this minute. He wanted to do the two of them. What a gas that would be. What a large charge. A real shockeroo.
He had watched them from afar—father and son. He thought of his own father, the totally worthless prick.
Then he saw the tall, pretty schoolteacher wave and get into her car. Instinctively, he hated her, too. Worthless black bitch. Phony teacher smile spread all over her face.
POW! POW! POW!
Three perfect headshots.
Three exploding head melons.
That’s what they all deserved. Summary executions.
A really rude thought was forming in his mind as he watched the scene near the school. He already knew a lot of things about Alex Cross. Cross was his detective, wasn’t he? Cross had been assigned to his case, right? So Cross was his meat. A co
p, just like his own father had been.
The really interesting thing was that nobody had paid much attention to the first killing. The murder had almost gone unnoticed. The papers in Washington had barely picked it up. Same with TV. Nobody cared about a little black girl in Southeast. Why the hell should they?
All they cared about was Jack and Jill. Rich white people afraid for their lives. Scar-y! Well, fuck Jack and Jill. He was better than Jack and Jill, and he was going to demonstrate it.
The school principal drove past his hiding place in a cluster of overgrown bushes. He knew who she was, too. Mrs. Johnson of the Truth School. The Whitney Houston of Southeast, right? Screw her, man.
His eyes slowly drifted back to Alex Cross and his son. He felt anger rising inside him, steam building up. It was as if his secret button had been pushed again. The hair on his neck was standing at attention. He was beginning to see red, feeling spraying mists of red in his brain. Somebody’s blood, right? Cross’s? His son’s? He loved the idea of them dying together. He could see it, man.
He followed Alex Cross and his kid home—in his rage state—but keeping a safe distance. He was thinking about what he was going to do next.
He was better than Jack and Jill. He’d prove it to Cross and everyone else.
CHAPTER
18
THE FESTIVE charity gala for the Council on Mental Health was being held at the Pension Building on F Street and Fourth on Friday night. The grand ballroom was three stories, with huge marble columns everywhere, and more than a thousand guests noisily seated around a glistening working fountain. The waiters and waitresses wore Santa Claus hats. The band broke into a lively swing version of “Winter Wonderland.” What great fun.
The guest speaker for the evening was none other than the Princess of Wales. Sam Harrison was there as well. Jack was there.