Along Came a Spider (Alex Cross 1)

“As you already know, Mr. Nathan, my doctorate is from Johns Hopkins.”

“One of the finest schools in the country, certainly this part of the country,” he said.

“Objection. That’s Mr. Nathan’s opinion.” Mary Warner made a fair legal point.

Judge Kaplan upheld the objection.

“You’ve also published articles in Psychiatric Archives, in the American Journal of Psychiatry.” Nathan continued as if Ms. Warner and Judge Kaplan were inconsequential.

“I’ve written a few papers. It’s really not such a big deal, Mr. Nathan. A lot of psychologists publish.”

“But not in the Journal and Archives, Dr. Cross. What was the subject of these learned articles?”

“I write about the criminal mind. I know enough three- and four-syllable words to qualify for the so-called learned journals.”

“I admire your modesty, I honestly do. Tell me something, Dr. Cross. You’ve observed me these past few weeks. How would you describe my personality?”

“I’d need some private sessions for that, Mr. Nathan. I’m not sure if you could pay me enough for the therapy.”

There was laughter throughout the courtroom. Even Judge Kaplan enjoyed a rare moment of mirth.

“Hazard a guess,” Nathan continued. “I can take it.”

He had a quick and very inventive mind. Anthony Nathan was highly creative. He had first established that I was my own witness, not an “expert” in his pocket.

“You’re neurotic.” I smiled. “And probably devious.”

Nathan faced the jury and turned his palms up. “At least he’s honest. And if nothing else, I get a free shrink session this morning.”

More laughter came from the jury box. This time, I got the feeling that some of the jurors were beginning to change th

eir minds about Anthony Nathan, and maybe about his client as well.

They had intensely disliked him at first. Now they saw that he was engaging, and very, very bright. He was doing a professional, maybe even a brilliant, job for his client.

“How many sessions have you had with Gary Murphy?” he asked me now. Gary Murphy, not Soneji.

“We had fifteen sessions over a period of three and a half months.”

“Enough to form some opinions, I trust?”

“Psychiatry isn’t that exact a science. I would like to have had more sessions. I do have some preliminary opinions.”

“Which are?” Nathan asked me.

“Objection!” Mary Warner rose once again. She was a busy lady. “Detective Cross has just said he would need more sessions to form a final medical opinion.”

“Overruled,” Judge Kaplan said. “Detective Cross has also stated he has some preliminary opinions. I’d like to hear what those are.”

“Dr. Cross,” Nathan continued as if none of the interruptions had occurred, “unlike the other psychiatrists and psychologists who have seen Gary Murphy, you’ve been intimately involved in this case right from the start—both as a police officer and as a psychologist.”

The prosecutor interrupted Nathan again. She was losing her patience. “Your Honor, does Mr. Nathan have a question to ask?”

“Do you, Mr. Nathan?”

Anthony Nathan turned to Mary Warner and snapped his fingers at her. “A question?—no sweat.” He turned back to me.

“As a police officer involved from the very beginning of this case, and as a trained psychologist, can you give us your professional opinion of Gary Murphy?”