Hope to Die (Alex Cross 22)

Yes, there was hope that they were all still alive, but linking Mulch to the Daley murders had made me realize that he would not hesitate to kill my entire family when the time came. But when was that time? How long was he likely to keep playing me? Did I have enough time to find them?

I considered a promise to God: I’d leave this life of constant investigation if my family were returned safely to me. But then I remembered something Nana Mama had told me back when I was fifteen or sixteen.

You can’t bargain with God, Alex. You can state your good intentions, you can imagine the life you want, but you can’t negotiate with Him. He holds all the cards.

Lying on the bed, I closed my eyes and imagined my family as vividly as I could. We were in the new addition. My arm was tight around Bree’s waist, and I smelled her as if she were right there. Ali was pretending he was in a gunfight behind the new furniture. Jannie was with Damon on the couch, laughing at their younger brother. Back in the kitchen, I saw a shadow and—

My cell phone rang. A Texas area code.

“You ready for this?” Lieutenant Vincente said.

CHAPTER

61

I SAT UP, TURNED on the light, said, “Go ahe

ad, JP. I’m ready.”

“Okay,” he said. “So Alice Monahan was born in Alaska, graduated from Deerfield Academy in Massachusetts, and did her undergrad and MBA at Rice University.”

“Smart lady,” I said.

“Very,” he said and laughed. “That’s why I almost missed it.”

“Tell me.”

“For some reason, we had her transcript from Deerfield under her maiden name,” he said. “If I hadn’t dropped the papers, I wouldn’t have seen the bottom of the transcript and the fact that she attended high school in Buckhannon, West Fucking Virginia, her freshman and sophomore years before transferring to Deerfield. Her father was a high-profile geologist who had a two-year contract with the mines.”

My heart raced. Buckhannon! What was the likelihood of a coincidence like that? Two women who lived in the same small town in West Virginia end up slain in the same gruesome manner? A million to one? More like ten million to one. This was no coincidence. Mulch knew Alice Monahan. I was sure of it, but I wanted the evidence straight in my mind.

“What was Mrs. Monahan’s maiden name?”

“Littlefield.”

“Years she attended Buckhannon High?”

It took Vincente a few seconds, but he found it and told me.

“She and Mulch would have been in the same graduating class had she stayed,” I said, feeling pieces starting to snap together. “And she was a great student and so was Mulch. My guess is if we compare Mulch’s transcripts with hers, they took classes together.”

“So, you’re thinking Alice did some mean-girl shit to him and he took revenge?”

“It feels right,” I replied. “She’s smart, well-to-do. He’s smart and lives on a pig farm. Maybe, after the psychological release Mulch got killing his mother and her second family, his thoughts turned to Alice and her family.”

“Like his thoughts have now turned to you and yours?”

The question unnerved me, but I said, “For whatever reason, JP.”

“Hey, you know who you should talk to about Alice Monahan?”

“Who’s that?”

“That fucking Harvard guy who wrote that book about the cases. What’s his name?”

“Sunday,” I said. “Marcus Sunday.”

CHAPTER