Alex Cross, Run (Alex Cross 20)
Son of a bitch! He almost wanted to turn the whole operation ninety degrees and go after John Sampson instead. No way that pathetic excuse for a cop was going to get any closer to his family than he already had. That was for damn sure.
Either way, the signs were unmistakable. It was time to make a big move. The only question was—what first?
When the phone in his pocket buzzed, Guidice gritted his teeth. He didn’t have to look at the ID. His mother was the only person who had this number, and it was the fourth time she’d tried him in the last hour. It was getting ridiculous.
“What, Mom?” he finally answered. “I’m working.”
“Daddy?”
Instead of Lydia, it was Emma Lee at the other end. Immediately, he regretted his tone.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“When are you coming home?” his daughter asked. Her little Virginia accent coaxed at him, pulling his heart right through the phone. He felt guilty as hell, but that couldn’t be helped right now.
“Just a few more days,” he said. “Not much longer.”
“The baby’s been crying a lot. I think she misses you.”
“That’s what babies do, sweet pea. Don’t worry about it. Now, put Grandma on the phone, okay?”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too. More than the moon.”
/>
After a short pause, Lydia came on the line. “Ronald?” she said.
Guidice could feel his gut turn a one eighty at the sound of her voice. “What the hell is she doing up?” he said. “You’re supposed to be looking after her.”
“Don’t you curse at me,” his mother said. “Your daughter misses her daddy. Can you blame her? You move us all the way out here and then don’t come around for days. And we’re out of milk, by the way. I can’t keep walking back to that store on these ankles.”
Guidice gave himself a ten count. There was nothing to do but suck it up. He needed Lydia now more than ever.
“Mom, we’ve talked all about this,” he said slowly. “As long as I’ve got this lawsuit going, I don’t think it’s safe for me to be around you and the girls too much. It’s no secret the police are out to get me.”
“But you’re the victim! You’re the one who got his nose broken.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. The last thing you want is cops like that coming around, asking questions. Then it’s just a matter of time before you’ve got reporters out there, trying to snap pictures of you and the girls. Right through the windows, even.”
“Stop it,” she said. “Now you’re scaring me.”
“I’m not trying to, Mom. I’m just explaining.”
In fact, he was trying, a little. If there was one thing Lydia Guidice hated, it was seeing pictures of herself. The fat ones reminded her she was fat, and the skinny ones reminded her that she wasn’t skinny anymore. Somewhere there was a box of family snapshots—including half a dozen of Guidice’s old man, standing there with his arm around nobody anymore—where she’d torn herself right out.
It was too bad the old man had dropped dead instead of her. He might have actually appreciated what Guidice was trying to accomplish here.
“Don’t trust anyone, Mom,” he said. “You know your rights, don’t you?”
“Yes, Ronald. You’ve told me a thousand times.”
“If someone comes around asking questions, you tell them you’re not required to identify yourself, and that you want to speak to your lawyer first.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. I know, I know.”
It was one of the best ways to get Lydia off the phone. She hated talking about this stuff.