“I’m sending a squad car now. It will be there in minutes. I’ll be right behind it. I’ll get back to you, Alex,” he said.
I sat in the car and anxiously waited for Sampson’s call. My head was spinning with all kinds of terrible thoughts and images. There was nothing I could do—not for Jamilla if she was in trouble, not for my own family back in Washington.
I thought about the Mastermind and the way he’d operated in the past. There were always dramatic taunts and barbs—and then, when I least expected it, he would act, he would make a strike to the heart.
When I least expected it.
Action, not words.
Horrible murders.
He knew I hadn’t returned to Washington; did he know for sure that I was in San Francisco?
I couldn’t focus as much as I needed to. Was it possible that he was right here on Jamilla’s street? Was the killer watching me now? He had shown that he was smart enough to follow me and not be seen. Did he want a showdown?
The cell phone rang again. My heart jumped in my chest. I fumbled with the buttons.
“Cross,” I said.
“Everybody’s okay, Alex. I’m at the house with Nana and the kids. They’re safe and sound. They’re with me now.”
I shut my eyes and sighed in relief. “Put her on,” I told Sampson. “Don’t take no for an answer from her. I need to talk to Nana about what we’re going to do next.”
Chapter 96
SAMPSON PROMISED to stay with Nana and the kids until I could get home. There was no one that
I trusted more, no one in the world they would be safer with. Still, I couldn’t be sure, and that was a terrible weight to carry. I didn’t feel I could leave California until I had at least located Jamilla and knew she was safe.
Finally, I called Tim Bradley at the Examiner. He didn’t know where she was, or even that she’d taken a day off from work. Maybe she had needed to get away from town—to get away from being a homicide detective?
I was beginning to feel that maybe I had made a mistake by stopping in San Francisco. The longer I sat on the street outside her house, the more convinced I was of it. Maybe the job was finally getting to me. The instincts go first.
Every time I considered leaving, I remembered the night I arrived at Betsey Cavalierre’s house, saw her dead body.
And besides, instincts had gotten me here in my career.
Feelings, gut reactions, experiences from the past.
Maybe just plain stubbornness.
I stayed on surveillance, stayed at my post. I got out of the car a couple of times, walked a little up and down the block. Climbed back in the car. Waited some more. I felt more than a little ridiculous, but I wouldn’t give in to it. I checked in with Sampson again. Everything was okay at home. Another homicide detective I know, Jerome Thurman, had arrived at the house too. Double duty against the Mastermind. Was that enough protection?
Then I saw Jamilla coming up the street in her Saab. I actually clapped my hands together. I smacked the dashboard with my palm. Yes. Thank God she was safe. There she was!
She parked about half a block from her house on Texas Street and got out, pulling a University of San Francisco gym bag behind her. I wanted to run up and hug her, but I stayed in my car. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She was wearing a dark blue T and loose gray workout pants. She was all right; she hadn’t been hurt. Jamilla hadn’t been murdered by the Mastermind.
I stared through the windshield, waiting to see if anyone was watching her, stalking her. Part of me wanted to leave well enough alone now, to go home to Washington. But I kept remembering what had happened to Betsey Cavalierre after we finished our case together.
Why then? Why my partner? I almost didn’t want to go there.
I gave Jamilla time to get inside, then I called her on my cell.
“This is Jamilla Hughes. Your message is important to me. Please leave it at the beep.”
Damn it! I hated those machines. We still didn’t have one back home.
“Jamilla, this is Alex Cross. Call me. It’s important. Please—”