Double Cross (Alex Cross 13)
“Hey, Momma. Guess.”
“Oh, my Lord, I can’t believe it’s you. Where are you calling from? Are you still out in California?”
This was how the conversation began every single time he called. In a way, it made things easier, more comfortable for both of them, completely artificial.
“That’s right. Actually, I’m standing on the corner
of Hollywood and Vine right now.”
“I’ll bet it’s beautiful there. It’s beautiful, right? The weather, movie stars, Pacific Ocean, everything.”
“It is. Paradise. I’m going to fly you out here one of these days real soon. How’re you doing other than that? You have everything you need?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You know that colored girl who comes in to clean? I think she’s been taking my jewelry.”
“Mm-hm.” Not likely. He had sold off the last of his mother’s jewelry a long time ago. That’s where the money came to get his acting career started, then to keep it going for a while.
“But never mind about me. Tell me about you. Just everything. I love it when you call. Your brother and sister almost never do.”
The accent seriously grated on his nerves, if only because he’d worked so hard to leave it behind. Unlike either of his parents, he had always intended to be something, to go beyond his humble beginnings. And now here he was at the top of the world, nobody quite like him, a unique creation.
“Well, did I tell you I’ve got a big movie coming out soon? Everybody is going to see it. The studio sure seems to think so, anyway. Paramount Pictures.”
He heard a quick intake of breath over the phone. “No such a thing!”
“That’s right, Ma. It’s got me and Tom Hanks and Angelina Jolie—”
“Oh, I just love her. What’s she like in real life? She nice or stuck-up?”
“She’s actually real nice. Loves her kids, Momma. I showed her your picture and told her all about you too. In fact, she’s the one who said I should call.”
“Oooh! Are you teasing me? That just makes me shiver. Angelina Jolie! And Tom Hanks too. I knew you were goin’ to make it. You’re so determined.”
The phone call, the acting, was all too easy and was the least he could do; or maybe it was the most he could do. It wasn’t like he was ever going back to visit his mother. Not like Kyle Craig had done out in Colorado recently.
“Wait’ll I tell your father about this. You know his birthday’s coming up, right?”
Crazy really did run in this family, didn’t it? She could remember the man’s birthday but not the fact that he’d shot himself in the face twenty-some years ago. This conversation was starting to depress the oxygen right out of him. It was time to go.
“Now listen, I have to be on the set soon, so I’m going to say good-bye for now.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I understand. Nice to hear your voice. You keep knockin’ ’em dead out there, you hear?”
He had to laugh at that one. “Yes’m. I’ll do just that. In your honor, Momma. I’ll give them hell.”
Chapter 76
THURSDAY AROUND NOON, I got a call from Bree, and it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, not even in the ballpark. “Alex, don’t hate me for this, but there’s no way I can get away this weekend. I’m going to be working straight through. Sorry. Sorry. I’m really sorry.”
We’d been hoping to make up for our aborted camping trip, but she was right, of course. The timing wasn’t any good. In fact, it probably couldn’t have been much worse, given the uproar over DCAK. Not to mention Kyle Craig being on the loose again and no recent word about where he might be.
“How about I make it up to you over drinks tonight?” she said. “Say, nine o’clock at the Sheraton Suites over in Old Town. You know the place? You remember?”
“I do, of course I do, and I’ll be there. Sheraton Suites. Nine o’clock.”
Everyone was a little frustrated right now, but especially the two of us. We’d been working harder than ever on DCAK, and all we had to show for it were a lot of unanswered questions and some very grisly murders. How had he pulled off the scene in Baltimore—and the Smithsonian hit at the same time? Who was the mystery woman who had helped him in Baltimore? What were those numbers on the side of the mailbag supposed to mean?
And what would happen if he tried to top himself again? That one hung over our heads like a weight about to drop—probably not if but when.