Along Came a Spider (Alex Cross 1)

So far, Jezzie and I we

ren’t getting tired of each other. Quite the opposite was happening down here in paradise.

That night, we sat at an outdoor raw bar in town. We watched the carefree island world go by, and wondered why we didn’t just drop out and become part of it. We ate shrimp and oysters and talked for a couple of hours straight. We let our hair down, especially Jezzie.

“I’ve been a really driven person, Alex,” Jezzie said to me. “I don’t mean just on the kidnapping case, butting my way into every briefing, every wild goose chase. I’ve been that way ever since I can remember. Once I start on an idea, I can’t turn it off.”

I didn’t say anything. I wanted to listen to her. I wanted to know all there was to know.

She raised her mug. “I’m sitting here with a beer in my hand, right. Well, both my parents were alcoholics. They were dysfunctional before it was fashionable. Nobody outside our house knew how bad it was. They would have screaming fights constantly. My dad usually passed out. Slept in ‘his chair.’ My mother would stay awake half the night at the dining-room table. She loved her Jameson’s. She’d say, ‘Get me another of my Jameson’s, Little Jezzie.’ I was their little cocktail waitress. That’s how I earned my allowance until I was eleven.”

Jezzie stopped talking and looked into my eyes. I hadn’t seen her so vulnerable and unsure of herself. She projected such confidence most of the time. That was her reputation in the Secret Service. “Do you want to leave now? Want me to lighten up?”

I shook my head. “No, Jezzie. I want to listen to whatever you have to say. I want to know all about you.”

“Are we still on vacation?”

“Yes, and I really want to hear about this. Just talk to me. Trust me. If I get bored, I’ll just get up and leave you with the bar tab.”

She smiled and went on. “I loved both my parents in a strange way. I believe that they loved me. Their ‘Little Jezzie.’ I told you once how I didn’t want to be a smart failure like my parents.”

“Maybe you understated things just a little.” I smiled.

“Yeah. Well, anyway, I worked long nights and weekends when I got into the Service. I set impossible goals for myself—supervisor at twenty-eight—and I beat every goal. That’s part of what happened with my husband. I put my job ahead of our marriage. Want to know why I started riding the motorcycle?”

“Yep. Also why you make me ride your motorcycle.”

“Well, see,” Jezzie said, “I could never make work stop. Couldn’t turn it off when I went home at night. Not until I got the bike. When you’re doing a hundred and twenty, you have to concentrate on the road. Everything else goes away. The Job finally goes away.”

“That’s partly why I play the piano,” I said to her. “I’m sorry about your parents, Jezzie.”

“I’m glad I finally told you about them,” Jezzie said. “I’ve never told anyone before you. Not one other person knows the whole true story.”

Jezzie and I held each other at the little island raw bar. I’d never felt so close to her. Sweet little Jezzie. Of all the times we were together, it was one I’d never forget. Our visit to paradise.

Suddenly, and way too quickly, our busman’s holiday was over.

We found ourselves trapped on board an American Airlines flight back to Washington, back to dreary, rainy weather, according to reports. Back to The Job.

We were a little distant from each other during the flight. We started sentences at the same time, then had to play “you go first” games. For the first time during the entire trip, we talked shop, the dreaded shoptalk.

“Do you really think he has a multiple personality, Alex? Does he know what happened to Maggie Rose? Soneji knows. Does Murphy know?”

“On some level, he knows. He was scary that one time he talked about Soneji. Whether Soneji is a separate personality or his real persona, he’s frightening. Soneji knows what happened to Maggie Rose.”

“Too bad we never will now. It seems that way, anyhow.”

“Yeah. Because I think I could get it out of him. It just takes some time.”

National Airport in D.C. was a natural disaster that several thousand of us got to experience together. Traffic just barely crept along. The line for cabs curled back into the terminal. Everybody looked soaked to the skin.

Neither Jezzie nor I had raincoats and we were getting soaked through. Life was suddenly depressing, and all too real again. The stalled investigation was here in D.C. The trial was coming. I probably had a message from Chief Pittman on my desk.

“Let’s go back. Let’s turn around.” Jezzie took my hand, and she pulled me close in front of the glass doorway to the Delta Shuttle.

The warmth and familiar smells of her body were still nice. The last scents of cocoa butter and aloe still lingered.

People turned to stare at us as they passed. They looked. They judged. Almost every person who passed us looked.