“The grain-tower explosions? Yeah. I thought those were solved.”
“Yeah. They caught the guy. But I don’t think that’s the end of it. It’s like a game of Whac-A-Mole these days—you knock the crazies down in one place, they pop up somewhere else.”
Alex leans back in his seat and rubs his chin. “You know, John, there’s something I took away from my recent near-death experience.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t go looking for trouble. It’ll find you soon enough.”
CHAPTER 1
Cross
ALEX CROSS SLOWLY SIPS his second cup of coffee and enjoys the sweet silence at his home on Fifth Street in Southeast DC. He’s reading thePostand finishing the last of his scrambled eggs and toast, prepared by the Cross family’s indispensable matriarch.
From the way his grandmother moves around the kitchen, it’s hard to tell that Nana Mama is in her nineties. At the moment, she’s busy cleaning and seasoning her cast-iron frying pan, the same one she’s been using for decades. No one else in the Cross household would dare touch it. Not even Alex.
Across the table, Alex’s wife, Bree, is working on her laptop, fingers flying, her hazel eyes focused on the screen. One of the rules Nana Mama enforces in the Cross household is that no electronics are allowed at the kitchen table until your meal is finished and your dishes cleared away. The rule applies to adults and children alike.
That means Bree usually eats quicker than Alex so she can geton her laptop and start her busy day. Retired from her previous jobs as a detective and FBI agent, Bree now works for the Bluestone Group, an international private security firm. She’s one of their top investigators.
These days, Alex divides his time between consulting for the FBI as a forensic psychologist and writing books about the criminal mind. Every now and then, he lectures at his alma mater, Georgetown University, and he always packs the house.
With the two older Cross kids away at college—Janelle at Howard, Damon now in grad school at the University of North Carolina—and Ali off to middle school nearby, the day is starting quietly and peacefully in the warm, cozy kitchen.
Alex looks over at Bree. “What’s getting you going this morning?”
“Just a sec, just a sec,” Bree replies, not looking up.
Alex smiles. When Bree is working hard, “just a sec” could mean a minute, a half hour, or even an hour. She has an amazing capacity for blocking out distractions, including her husband.
No matter. Alex has his own project, going over the notes for a new book. The deadline is looming and his publisher is getting anxious. Time to bear down and—
Alex’s iPhone rings, interrupting his thoughts.
He looks at the screen. The caller ID says UNC—Damon’s school.
He puts the phone on speaker. “Hello?”
“Dr. Cross?” A woman’s voice. Hesitant.
“Yes, this is Alex Cross. How can I help you?”
“This is Professor Clarisse Pope. I’m calling about your son Damon. He’s in my Abnormal Psychology class, and I’m also his academic adviser.”
Bree looks up from her work.
“Good morning, Professor. I’ve read some of your books, and Damon mentioned he really likes the course. What’s he up to now?”
Damon’s a dedicated student, but he’s been known to miss a class here and there when he’s doing something else that really matters to him. That used to be basketball but now it’s more likely to be political activism, trying to save the world. A passion he shares with his younger brother, Ali.
“Go ahead, Professor,” Alex says. “I have you on speaker. My wife, Bree, is here too. Is there an issue with Damon’s academics?”
Pope’s delivery is a bit halting: “No, no. Nothing like that. Damon’s a great student. Very diligent. Always on top of things. Which is why I’m calling. I was just wondering … have you heard from him recently?”
Alex can see Nana Mama listening from across the kitchen, leaning in toward the conversation.
“No,” says Alex, a cold sensation seeping into his gut. “At least, I haven’t.” He glances at his wife. Like a lot of college students, Damon is a sporadic communicator. It isn’t unusual for him to be out of touch now and then. Alex and Bree have learned to give him some space.
