Her scent, her touch, everything about her comforts him. Always has.
“I’ve been calling and texting both Damon and Melissa,” says Bree. “Calls go to voicemail, and there’re no replies to my texts.”
“There has to be a good reason why he’s been out of touch.” Alex frowns. “I just sent him an email. Let’s see if he responds.”
Bree breaks the hug. “Alex, I love that boy like he is my own blood. When we find him, I’ll give him a big kiss—then a good slap on the butt for scaring the hell out of us.”
Alex caresses her cheek. “I’m with you. He might be an adult now, but I’ll find a way to ground him if this turns out to be a prank.”
They’re both just trying to buck each other up. They head down the stairs. Two packed bags sit in the second-floor hallway.
“I called Bluestone’s travel people. They’ve booked us on American,” says Bree. “Direct to Raleigh. Leaves from Reagan in ninety minutes. There’ll be a Hertz rental for us at RDU. They’re also sending an Uber to take us. It should be here any minute.”
“Thank God for Bluestone.”
Alex calls in a few favors to fast-track approval for getting their weapons on the plane under the TSA’s Law Enforcement Officer Flying Armed program.
“Do you really think we’ll need our guns?” asks Bree.
“I hope not,” says Alex, putting his in a holster.
They each pick up a bag and go downstairs. Nana Mama meets them at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes red and teary. She holds out two Tupperware containers.
“I packed you some food,” she says. “I know how you two work. You’ll get so focused on asking questions, you’ll forget to eat or end up at some greasy-spoon diner.”
“You’re right as always,” says Alex. “You know us too well.”
Bree and Alex take the containers of food and tuck them into the pockets of their luggage. When they look up again, Nana Mama seems ready to cry. Without a word, the three of them wrap one another up in a group hug.
Alex kisses one of Nana’s wrinkled cheeks. Bree kisses the other. Nana squeezes them both. “I’ll be praying for you, every minute, every hour.”
“We know you will,” says Alex.
Another hard squeeze from his grandmother. “You find that boy.”
“We will, Nana Mama,” says Bree. “We will.”
Nana breaks the embrace and turns toward the front window. “Your ride’s here. Get going.”
CHAPTER 4
Sampson
LIFE AS A SINGLE parent is not easy. But it has its moments.
One of my most treasured rituals is walking my daughter, Willow, to school, her small hand dwarfed in my own big mitt. I know the time will come when she’ll be too grown up to hold Daddy’s hand. I’m not looking forward to that day.
But at this moment, I’ve got something else to worry about.
Our morning ritual was just interrupted by an unexpected phone call from Alex Cross. Damon, he tells me, is apparently missing down in North Carolina.
Willow walks ahead and starts talking and giggling with her friends as I stand outside her school, holding my phone tight to my ear. “Alex, have you talked to the Chapel Hill police or campus security?”
My feet feel rooted to the concrete sidewalk. I’m trying to stay grounded, not to jump to any worst-case scenarios. Bad thingshave happened to the Cross family before. But I’m hoping this is just some kind of mistake or miscommunication.
“Not yet,” he says. “Bree and I will be in Raleigh in just over two hours. We’ll get a rental and head to campus. We want to meet with the police in person. You know what it’s like—it’s hard to ignore somebody who’s sitting right in front of you.”
“I agree. In person is best. Look, I can be down there later today.”
