I don’t believe him, I thought as I finally drifted off to sleep. There’s something going on here that we’re not seeing.
CHAPTER 28
Nobody at the Crosses’ gets up earlier than Nana. Not even on Christmas.
That morning she rose at a quarter to five.
First thing she did was dial up the thermostat in the house and “put up the coffee,” as she liked to say. Then she turned on the lights on the tree, brought a big CVS shopping bag into the living room, and got started on the stockings. Filling the stockings was her job. She enjoyed it immensely. And everybody seemed to like the candy and the dollar-store goodies as much as the pricier shirts and sweaters and books and electronic games.
Nana doled out the tiny plastic puzzles and Hershey bars and ballpoint pens. As always, each of the stocking gifts had a double meaning. She gave Bree a disposable lighter; it was Nana’s way of telling her that she knew Bree sneaked an occasional cigarette.
The old woman put a bottle of OPI nail polish in Ava’s stocking, thinking it might inspire the girl to stop biting her nails.
She dropped iPod earbuds into Damon’s stocking. A bright red hair clip went into Jannie’s. And the one-handed flosser was for Alex.
“Alex,” she said softly. She looked out the front window. It was still coming down and snow was piled more than a foot high on the cars. But there was no sign of her grandson.
“My, my,” she heard someone say. “Santa’s helpers get younger and prettier every year.”
Nana turned around and saw Bree standing at the edge of the living room. They hugged and wished each other a merry Christmas, both of them knowing it wasn’t all that merry without Alex in the house.
“Did you get any sleep?” Nana asked.
“Not a wink.”
“Makes two of us,” Nana said. “Terrible knot in my stomach all night.”
They drank coffee and kept each other company. Jannie and Damon and Ava joined them just as Christmas Day was dawning. Everyone smiled and hugged and said merry Christmas, but the usual rush to rip open gifts just wasn’t there.
“What this Christmas morning needs is a good hot breakfast,” Nana said.
They all pretended to agree with her.
“Well, let’s get into the kitchen and get to work. You don’t think I’m going to fix it all by myself, do you?” said Nana. “I need helpers.”
The children followed her into the kitchen. Bree said she’d join them in a minute. “I love cracking eggs. Save that job for me,” she called after them.
Then she picked up the remote and flicked on the television. Words at the bottom of the screen said CHRISTMAS HOSTAGE CRISIS.
There was a shot of the big, handsome house in Georgetown. Snow and people and cops were everywhere. Then there was Alex carrying a woman from the house where the lunatic had been holed up. The news anchor identified her as Congressman Brandywine’s wife and said, “Detective Cross risked his life and entered the house unarmed to negotiate face-to-face with the madman. One life has been saved, but from what we understand, another one hangs in the balance-Fowler shot and wounded his ex-wife’s husband.”
He’d gone into the house unarmed. Someone had been shot inside. Bree thought about that and said softly, as if the TV could hear her, “Oh, Alex, Alex, Alex. I don’t know if I can bear where you go.”
Then she changed the channel.
But Channel 4 had the identical story. That network, however, had a reporter on the scene. She held a microphone and was talking to the camera.
“From superlawyer to drug addict to madman: that’s the road Henry Fowler took to arrive here this Christmas morning-”
Bree punched POWER, threw the remote down. She rubbed her sleeve against her damp eyes. Then she shouted toward the kitchen, “Nobody better have touched those eggs!”
CHAPTER 29
I felt someone shaking me. I jerked awake and was surprised to see Detective McGoey standing in a weak, pale light.
“It’s Fowler,” he said. “A couple of minutes ago it sounded like he was going rhino in there, and Nu was getting ready to give his men the go to assault when Fowler answered the phone, finally. He’s asking for you, Alex.”
I nodded, sat up, shook the cobwebs from my head. “Time is it?”
“Six fifteen,” McGoey said.
“I slept for four hours?” I said.
“There was no reason to wake you until now,” he said.
I nodded dumbly, followed him toward the front of the van and Ramiro, who held out a phone to me. “This is Cross,” I said.
“I’m disappointed in you” announced Fowler’s voice. “Very disappointed.”
“Why?”
“You betrayed me. I’ve been looking out my windows. You’ve got me surrounded by an army.”
“That’s the way it usually works when you’re armed to the teeth and you don’t talk to us,” I said.
“Are they coming in after me? Are they going to shoot their way in?”
“Unless you talk to us.”
“Coming in here would be a mistake,” he said. “All you would find are bodies around the Christmas tree, mine included.”
“But you’ll talk to me?” I asked. “Help me try to figure out a way to avoid that?”
He didn’t reply, but he didn’t hang up either.
“Is Dr. Nicholson still alive?” I asked.
“Barry?” he shot back. “Sure, he’s alive. But he’s got a hell of a stomachache.”
“Let him go,” I said. “Let me come in there with another unarmed officer and get him.”
“No,” Fowler said. “I’m enjoying his suffering.”
“Then let someone else in there go. One of your children.”
Silence, and then he said, “A goodwill gesture, isn’t that what you said it would be?”
“That’s right.”
“Wish granted,” he said. “I’m sending out the only one in this house I really care about.”
Nu knocked on the wall, signaled me toward the van’s side window. I got up, saw the front door open. A black Labrador retriever with a red bow around its neck slunk out, and it startled and began to run away, its tail between its legs, when the door slammed shut.
CHAPTER 30
Fowler was definitely toying with us, demonstrating that even when he was in mortal danger, with threats from the snipers and SWAT assaulters all around him, he was the one who decided who lived, who died. I could have gone the anger route, called him on it, put more pressure on him, but something told me it would backfire.
“You love your dog, Fowler?” I asked.
“What kind of man doesn’t love his dog?” he replied sharply.
“A man who has a cat,” I said.
“Funny, Cross.”
“I appreciate you letting the dog go,” I said. “What’s the dog’s name?”
“Mindy,” Fowler said.
“We thank you for releasing Mindy, and I assure you she’ll be well cared for. But I need more, Fowler, if I’m going to keep these trained professionals from kicking down your door and trying to blow your head off before you can hurt anyone else.”
A long silence. “Like what?”
I looked over at Nu and McGoey and then said, “I want to come in again-with medical personnel. I want to take Barry out of there.”
Fowler began to scream, finally going rhino. We heard things breaking, and then he came back on the line. “I don’t care what you want! I want what I want! Barry’s going to die! Got that? He’s going to die for what he did to me! And so is my ex-wife. They took my life! Now I’m going to take theirs. I am going to kill them all.”
“I’m coming in, Henry,” I said. “Right now.”
But he’d hung up.
CHAPTER 31
“Pancakes or waffles?” Nana asked in a voice so cheerful that everybody knew it was put on. Add to that the fact that both Jannie (always pro-waffle) and Damon (fiercely pro-pancake) said they didn’t really care, and it was obvious that worry about Alex had pretty much sucked the joy right out of the holiday.