Cross the Line (Alex Cross #24)

A few moments later the door opened. Jannie hobbled backward on her crutches, sat down hard on her bed, and burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” I said, going in and putting my arm around her.

“Look at my foot,” she said, sobbing. “Look at how swollen it got just from, like, a half an hour on a stationary bike with practically no pressure.”

I leaned down and saw the swelling across her midfoot.

“That’s not good,” I said.

“What am I going to do?” Jannie said. “My physical therapist thinks there’s something else wrong in there. She said what we did should not have caused this kind of reaction.”

“Okay,” I said after several moments of thought. “I understand you’re upset. I would be too if I were you.”

“Dad, what if it’s real bad?” she said, starting to cry again. “What if there’s something so bad I can never run again?”

“Whoa, whoa,” I said. “We are not thinking that way at all. Ever. We’ll just take it step by step. Does your PT have a number and a name?”

She nodded and snuggled into my chest. “I have it.”

I rubbed her shoulder and said, “Don’t work yourself up into a state by imagining the worst. Okay? We’ll go see the best foot doctor in the country. I’m sure your coaches know who that is, and we’ll have that doctor take a look and tell us what to do. Okay?”

Jannie nodded and sniffled. “I just don’t want my dream to be over before it’s even started.”

“I don’t either,” I said, and I hugged her tight.





CHAPTER


73


NANA MAMA WAS watching Ali sweep the kitchen floor when I walked in.

He looked at me with watery eyes. “Is it true Jannie will never run again?”

“What? No.”

“I keep telling him it’s not true,” Nana Mama said. “But he won’t listen.”

“It’s what Jannie said,” Ali told me.

“She was upset,” I said. “Everyone, calm down. Her foot’s swollen, not rotting off.”

“Ugh,” Ali said, but he smiled.

“Finish your sweeping, you,” Nana Mama said, and then she looked to me. “Thin pork chops fried in a little bacon grease and covered with a fiery compote of onions, applesauce, and sriracha.”

“That sounds great,” I said. “And it smells amazing in here.”

My grandmother smiled, said, “It’s the caramelized onions. Ten minutes? I’ve got the compote made already.”

“Ten minutes is fine,” I said, grabbing a beer from the fridge and going out into the great room. I sat down and pulled out my cell phone to look at the message from Judith Noble.

The phone rang before I could read it.

“It’s Dolores,” she said. “Fender and Hobbes both replied.”

I set my beer down and said, “Tell me.”

“They’re interested but said they’re tied up overseas until Monday. Then they’re open to any and all offers.”

“Which means what?”

“They’re busy for a few days.”

“So there could be an attack in the next few days?”

“I suppose you could interpret it that way,” Dolores said. “How’s Nick?”

“I don’t know. Mahoney’s got him stashed away in Virginia somewhere.”

“So how do I respond to Hobbes and Fender?”

I thought about that and said, “Tell them we look forward to hearing from them at their earliest possible convenience.”

“I can do that,” Dolores said, and she hung up.

I heard Bree come in the front door. It was past seven. She looked worse than I felt.

“Don’t ask,” she said.

“Deal,” I said. “Beer?”

“Red wine,” she said. “Pinot noir. And what smells so good?”

“Nana Mama’s on a roll,” I said and retrieved a bottle of her favorite wine.

I poured just about the time my grandmother finished the thin-sliced pork chops and set them on the table along with her mystery sauce. Jannie crutched her way in. We said grace with everyone holding hands.

Nana Mama’s new dish was a hit. Every bite gave you about six different flavors, but it wasn’t so spicy you screamed Fire! Bree and I cleared the dishes. At bedtime, Ali and I talked about respecting elders.

“Would you disrespect Neil deGrasse Tyson?”

“No,” he said. “But Nana Mama’s not—”

“Don’t go there,” I said, wagging a finger. “That argument won’t work. In this house, in this universe, Nana Mama is Neil deGrasse Tyson and more.”

He struggled with that, but then nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, leaning over and kissing his head.

I went into our bedroom and found Bree already under the covers, knees up and reading her new book. I crawled into bed minutes later, and my world seemed a whole lot better than it had when I got home; I felt good and drowsy enough for sleep.





CHAPTER


74


DRESSED IN BLACK from his Wolverine boots to his leather jacket and Bell helmet, John Brown accelerated his motorcycle down a moonless rural road. Cass rode behind him.