Violets Are Blue (Alex Cross 7)

“I could get used to this,” Jannie said, as we pulled up in front of the Sojourner Truth School. Helen Folasade Adu—Sade—was singing softly on the CD. Very nice.

“Don’t get used to it. It’s a five-block walk from our house to school. When I was a little boy in North Carolina, I used to walk five miles through tobacco fields to school.”

“Yeah, right,” Damon scoffed. “You forgot that you used to walk barefoot. Left that part out.”

“I did. Thanks for reminding me. I used to walk barefoot through those nasty tobacco fields to school.”

The kids laughed and so did I. They’re usually good to be around, and I’m always videotaping them. I do it in the hopes that I’ll have nice movies to watch when the two of them go bad in their teenage years. Also, I’m afraid I might get CRS someday—the can’t remember shit disease. It’s going around.

“I have a big concert on Saturday,” Damon reminded me. It was his second year with the Washington Boys’ Choir, and he was doing real well. He was going to be the next Luther Vandross, or maybe Al Green, or maybe he was just going to be Damon Cross.

“I’ll be home by Saturday, Damon. Trust me, I wouldn’t miss your concert.”

“You missed quite a few already,” he said. It was a sharp little dig.

“That was the old me. This is the new and improved Alex. I’ve also attended several of your concerts.”

“You’re so funny, Daddy,” Jannie said, and laughed. Both kids are smart, and smart-ass as well.

“I will be home for Damon’s concert,” I promised. “Help your grandma around the house. She’s almost a hundred years old, you know.”

Jannie rolled her eyes. “Nana’s eighty years young, or so she says. She loves to cook, do the dishes, and clean up after us,” she said, imitating Nana’s wicked cackle. “She truly does.”

“Saturday. I can’t wait,” I said to Damon. It was the whole truth and nothing but. The Boys’ Choir was one of Washington’s secret treasures. I was ecstatic that Damon was good enough to sing with the group, but most of all that he loved what he was doing.

“Kisses,” I said. “Hugs too.”

Damon and Jannie groaned, but they leaned in close, and I wondered how much longer they would be willing to give me hugs and pecks on the cheek. So I took an extra few while I could get them. When the good times come with your kids, you’ve got to make them last.

“I love you,” I said before I let them go off to school. “What do you say?”

“We love you too,” Damon and Jannie chorused.

“That’s why we let you embarrass us to death in front of our school and all our friends,” Jannie said, and she stuck out her tongue.

“This is your last ride to school,” I told her. Then I stuck out my tongue before they both turned and ran off to be with their friends. They were growing up way too fast for me.

Chapter 7

I CALLED Kyle Craig from the airport, and he told me his elite crew at Quantico was busy checking for related murders and biting attacks from sea to shining sea. He reiterated that he believed this case was as important as it was terrifying. I wondered what else he knew. He usually knew more than he told.

“You’re up early, Kyle, and you’re busy. This case has caught your full attention. Why is that?”

“Of course it has. It’s totally unique. I haven’t seen anything remotely like it. Inspector Jamilla Hughes will meet your flight if she can. It’s her case and she’s supposed to be competent. She’s one of two women in Homicide in San Francisco, so she probably is fairly good.”

On the plane trip from D.C. I read and reread the faxes I’d gotten that morning about the horrific murders in Golden Gate Park. Inspector Hughes’s preliminary crime-scene notes were precise and detailed, but most of all, gut-wrenching.

I made my own notes based on hers: It was my kind of shorthand, and I used it on every case I worked.

Male and female victims found dead at 3:20 A.M. in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco. Why there? Visit park if possible.

Victims hung by feet from oak tree. Why hung? To drain the bodies? Why drain the bodies? Rite of purification? Spiritual cleansing?

Bodies naked and covered in blood. Why naked? Erotic? Sex crimes? Or just brutal? Exposing the victims to the world for some reason?

Male’s legs, arms, chest severely gouged—victim appears to have been bitten repeatedly. Male actually died from bites!!!

Female bitten—but not as severely. Also cut with sharp object. Died from massive blood loss, class IV: Female lost over 40% of her blood.