He pulled the Leica around on its strap. “Just a quick photo, then?”
Like he cared about the picture. What he wanted was for Stone to see him—to have seen the character he was playing today, Neil Stephens.
Detective Bree Stone was his audience right now. But she didn’t even look. She held up a palm and got into the car—Talk to the hand puppet. “Let’s go,” she said to the cop at the wheel, and they pulled away from the curb. End of interview.
Neil Stephens called out to her, “Having a bad day, Detective Stone?”
It was meant to be in character, the parting shot of a pushy journalist. He wasn’t even sure she’d heard it—until the police cruiser suddenly braked. Then the car backed up several feet to where he was standing.
Bree Stone climbed out and gave him a quick once-over. Now he had her attention. But was that a good thing?
“What did you say your name was?” she asked. “I didn’t catch the name.”
“Stephens. Out of Chicago. Associated Press.” The worst thing he could do right now was flinch. So he stepped closer instead
. That’s what Neil would do—get the story. “I left you a voice mail this morning.” He hadn’t. “Actually, I was hoping to do a piece on your team while I was here in Washington.”
He was handling this pretty well, but his position still wasn’t good. The logic wasn’t quite right, didn’t feel solid to him.
Stone must have thought so too. “Could I see some ID?” she asked next.
So what did he do now? He stepped closer again and handed the identification to her. He could see the other cop out of the corner of his eye—both hands still on the wheel. Stone’s gun was holstered on her right hip, next to her badge. He had her—no doubt about it in his mind. He could take her out right here, right now. He knew that he should too.
She looked at him again, her face more relaxed than before. “Yeah, okay. We could do a quickie back at the office. I’ll introduce you to whoever’s around. How’s that sound?”
She was almost convincing. Almost fooled me, Detective. But her tone told DCAK everything he needed to know, including that he had to act now or he was toast.
His fist flew up and struck Bree Stone in the temple. Christ, she had a hard head for a woman. He grabbed her Glock and shot the other cop right through the open window. DCAK fired into the crumpled form again to make sure. Then he turned back to Stone.
She was still down, obviously hurt but not unconscious. One hand was pressed against her forehead, blood dripping between the fingers. She tried to reach for him. He hooked her with his foot and flipped her on her back.
“Don’t move!” he screamed in her face.
He put the gun inches from her eyes. “Look at me, Bree. Remember my fucking face. And every time you do, you’ll know what a total screwup you are. You and your main mount, Alex Cross. Hey, you just met DCAK.”
Chapter 95
I RUSHED TO BE WITH BREE at St. Anthony’s emergency room, which was where my wife, Maria, had been pronounced dead, and I couldn’t get that terrible, morbid thought out of my head. Bree was getting stitches when I got there. Word was they practically had to drag her into the ER. Unfortunately, an officer named Howie Pearsall was dead. Another cop down.
Bree started talking as soon as she saw me. “He made a big mistake today, Alex. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, I’m sure of it.”
“He didn’t expect to see you there. No, I don’t think that he did. But we can’t be one hundred percent sure of that, Bree. He’s the man with a plan, right?”
She winced at the stitch she’d just gotten. The doctor working on her looked up at me for help, but Bree kept talking. “He made the best of it, though. Taunted me, Alex. Let me see the character he was playing—some AP reporter. Neil Stephens, he said. Anything in the name? Or that he was playing a reporter this time? He said he was from Chicago.”
“Let’s talk about this when you’re done,” I said, and squeezed her hand.
She was still for a few seconds but then blurted out, “Did you know Howie Pearsall just got married? Couple of weeks ago. Wife’s a specialed teacher.”
I nodded, trying to model silence until the sewing job on Bree was finished.
“I didn’t see anybody else, Alex. No female in sight. Maybe she was just a one-shot. A distraction. Hey, be careful with that knitting needle, will you?”
“Sorry, Detective,” said the ER doctor.
“Don’t be sorry. Be careful.”
Afterward, Bree and I sat in the lobby to talk. I had a few things to say to her that I knew she wouldn’t want to hear. “Bree, this thing just turned another corner. We both know it did. If he didn’t kill you today, it’s only because it didn’t fit with a different plan he’s already made, a different role he intended to play. I’d be more comfortable if you didn’t work alone for the rest of the case. Make any sense?”