Cross Justice (Alex Cross 23)

?A lot of it has to check out.”

“I promise you on my mother’s Bible, it will.”

“So let’s say your version of events is true. Who’s behind it?”

Stefan hesitated, and then said, “I don’t know. I’m hoping you’ll figure it out.”

“But you’ve got suspicions?”

“I do, but I’d rather not put them out there.”

“Stefan, your life is on the line here,” Naomi said. “We need it all.”

“What you don’t need is conjecture,” Stefan said. “That’s the word, right?”

“It is, but—”

He gestured at me with his manacled hands. “I’d rather have Alex go into this with no preconceived notions. Let the facts I’ve given him take him where they take him. That way, when he says he believes me, I’ll know he’s telling the truth.”

“Fair enough,” I said, and I checked my watch. It was past six.

Naomi went to the door, knocked twice. The guards came to get Stefan.

He said, “Tell Patty, my mom, and my dad that I love them and that I’m innocent.”

“Of course,” Naomi said.

“When will I see you again?” he asked us as the guards stood him up and unlocked his chains from the eyebolt on the floor.

“Tomorrow,” my niece replied.

“When I’ve got something to talk to you about,” I said.

“Fair enough,” my cousin said, and they led him out.

Naomi waited until we were outside the jail and moving toward her car before asking, “What don’t you believe?”

“I believe all of it until proven otherwise,” I said.

“But you seemed skeptical in there.”

“I’m skeptical of everything when the rape, torture, and murder of an innocent kid is involved,” I said matter-of-factly.

That seemed to upset her.

“Am I wrong to think this way?” I asked.

“No, it’s just that Stefan needs people in his corner,” Naomi said. “I need people in Stefan’s corner.”

“I know, but as I said, I am ultimately in Rashawn Turnbull’s corner. It’s the only way I work.”

Chapter

16

It was twilight when we parked on Dogwood Road in Birney, only three streets east of Loupe. We walked down the block to a two-story duplex in need of attention, paint certainly, but with a lawn that was freshly mowed. The smell of grass was everywhere.

One of the porch lights was blinking when a middle-aged bleached-blond Caucasian woman wearing running shorts and a Charlotte Bobcats T-shirt exited the right door. She gave us the once-over as we came up onto the porch, said, “Friend or foe?”