Cross the Line (Alex Cross 24)

“He said they were like geniuses,” Newfield said. “They’d figured out a new way to make meth and they were going to rule the entire East Coast.”

“You have names?”

“No, I didn’t want to know.”

Around eight that night, we were left with seven bodies on the chill cement floor, and no one waiting outside. Two Jane Does. Five John Does. Two were the older Caucasian males in suits who’d been found with the cash; the remaining five were all in their late twenties and had been discovered in the meth lab.

I knelt next to the bodies and looked at them. What had brought them to this? Who the hell were they?

“Let’s get these bodies on ice,” I said.

“Dr. Cross?” called one of the patrolmen by the door. “There’s a young lady out here who wants to look for her friends.”

“Okay, one more.”

Alexandra Campbell shuffled in as if against her will, shoulders rolled forward, looking everywhere but at the bodies. She was a reedy woman in her twenties with a colorful sleeve tattoo and blond hair dyed peach in places.

“You think you know someone here?” I asked after introducing myself.

Campbell shrugged miserably, said, “Gotta look. Make sure.”

I led her over. Campbell stopped eight or nine feet from the remaining seven bodies. Her hand trembled up to cover her mouth.

“Carlo,” she choked out. “Now look where you’ve left me.”

She kind of folded down into herself then, wrapped her arms around her knees at the feet of the body bags, and sobbed her poor heart out. I gave her some time and then crouched at her side and offered her a tissue box.

Bree brought her a bottle of water, and Campbell told us everything she knew.

Chapter

22

We didn’t reach home until well after midnight. We ate cold leftover chicken in the kitchen and tried to forget the things we’d seen and heard.

“You believe her?” Bree asked, getting up from the table to wash her plate. “Alexandra Campbell?”

“The bones of it,” I said.

“God help us, then,” she said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a zoo.”

“Just be the calm tortoise,” I said.

“You’re asking me to act like a turtle at work?”

“No, like a tortoise, with a big armored shell and the ability to stand back from it all and keep plodding toward the finish line.”

Bree looked at me sleepily, came into my arms, and said, “I have a feeling this is going to be all-consuming for a while, and you telling me to act like a land turtle wasn’t exact

ly the advice I expected from you. But I love you and let’s not lose track of each other.”

“Deal,” I said, and followed her upstairs to bed.

I don’t remember my head hitting the pillow. I don’t remember dreaming.

There was nothing but darkness until the alarm went off at six fifteen. Bree was already up, showered, and dressed, and eating in the kitchen with Nana Mama. Jannie was drinking a protein shake and wearing her warm-ups.

I yawned, said to Jannie, “You’re up early.”