Cross (Alex Cross 12)

“Shit,” Burns said, and he hit his desk hard with the palm of his hand. “Damn it all to hell, Alex. Why would you leave us now? It makes no sense to me. You’re on a very fast track at the Bureau. You know that, right? Tell you what, I’m not going to let you do it.”

“Nothing you can do to stop me,” I told him. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure I’m doing the right thing. I’ve thought this through a hundred times in the last few days.”

Burns stared into my eyes, and he must have seen something resolute there, because he stood up behind his desk. Then he came around it with his hand outstretched.

“You’re making a terrible mistake, and an atrociously bad career move, but I can tell there’s no point in arguing with you. It’s been a real pleasure, Alex, and an education,” he said as we shook hands. We made some more uncomfortable chitchat for the next couple of minutes. Then I got up to leave his office.

As I reached the door, Burns called, “Alex, I hope I can still call on you from time to time. I can, can’t I?”

I laughed in spite of myself, because the remark was so typical of Burns’s never-say-die attitude. “You can call on me eventually. But why don’t yo

u give it a few months, okay?”

“Couple of days anyway,” said Burns, and at least he winked when he said it.

We both laughed, and suddenly it sunk in—my brief, somewhat illustrious career with the FBI was over and done with.

Also, I was unemployed.

Chapter 35

I’M NOT A BIG FAN of looking back on the stages of my life with anything like regret, and anyway, my time at the FBI had been mostly very good and probably even valuable in the long run. I’d learned things, accomplished a fair amount—like stopping a Russian Mafia psycho called the Wolf. And I’d made some good friends—the head of Hostage Rescue, maybe even the director—which couldn’t hurt and might even help me out someday.

Still, I wasn’t prepared for the incredible feeling of relief I experienced as I carried a cardboard box stuffed full of my possessions out of the FBI building that morning. It felt as if at least a couple of hundred pounds of dead weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a burden I hadn’t even known was there. I didn’t know for sure if I’d just made a good decision, but it sure felt like it.

No more monsters, human or otherwise, I was thinking to myself.

No more monsters ever.

I headed toward home at a little before noon. Free at last. I had the car windows open and was listening to Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry,” the words “everything’s gonna be all right” blasting from the radio. I was singing along. I didn’t have a plan for what I was going to do next, not even for the rest of the day—and it felt pretty terrific. Actually, I liked the idea of doing nothing for a while, and I was beginning to think I might be pretty good at it too.

There was something I needed to do right now, while I was in the mood. I drove out to the Mercedes dealership and found the salesperson Laurie Berger. I took a test drive in the R350, and all that leg room was even more fun on the open highway than it had been in the showroom. I liked the vehicle’s zip and also the dual-dash zone climate control, which would keep everybody happy, even Nana Mama.

But even more important, it was time for the family and me to move away from Maria’s old car. It was time, I had money from my books in savings, and so I bought the R350 and felt wonderful about it.

When I got home, I found a note from Nana on the kitchen table. It was meant for Jannie and Damon, but I read it anyway.

Go out and get some fresh air, you two. There’s coq au vin in the Crock-Pot. Delicious! Set the table for me, please. And get a start on your homework before dinner. Damon has choir tonight. Remember to “support your breath,” young man. Aunt Tia and I have taken Ali to the zoo, and WE’RE LOVING IT.

Your Nana isn’t here, but I’m watching you anyway!

I couldn’t help smiling. This woman had saved me a long time ago, and now she was saving my kids.

I’d been hoping to hang out with Ali, but there would be plenty of time for that in the near future. So I fixed myself a leftover pork and coleslaw sandwich, and then for some strange reason I made popcorn for one.

Why? Why not! I don’t even like popcorn that much, but suddenly I was in the mood for some hot, buttered junk food. Free to be me; free to be stupid if I wanted to.

I ate the freshly popped popcorn and played the piano for a couple of hours that afternoon—Duke Ellington, Jelly Roll Morton, Al Green. I read several chapters from a book called The Shadow of the Wind. And then I did the truly unthinkable—I took a nap in the middle of the day. Before I drifted off, I thought about Maria again, the best of times, our honeymoon at Sandy Lane in Barbados. What a blast that had been. How much I still missed her and wished she was here right now to hear my news.

For the rest of the afternoon, the phone never rang once. I didn’t have a pager anymore, and in the words of Nana Mama—I was loving it.

Nana and Ali came home together, then came Jannie, and finally Damon. Their staggered arrivals gave me the chance to show off our new car three times, and to get their praise and applause three times. What a fine, fine day this was turning out to be.

That night at dinner we chowed down on Nana’s delicious Frenchified chicken, and I kept the big news to myself until the end of the meal—pumpkin ice cream and café au lait.

Jannie and Damon wanted to eat and run, but I kept everybody sitting at the table. Jannie wanted to get back to her book. She was tripping out on Eragon these days, which was okay, I guess, but I didn’t understand why it is that kids have to read the same book half a dozen times.

“What now?” she rolled her eyes and asked, as though she already knew the answer.