On her porch, a huge man is supporting the weight of a smaller man, hanging limp at his side. In a split second, Gina recognizes them both. It’s that detective who questioned her at the hospital. John Sampson.
The man he’s holding is Aiden Phillips.
“Open the door, Gina,” says Sampson. “He needs help.”
She closes the door just enough to unclasp the chain. When she opens the door wide, she can see dark spots speckling her front step.
Blood.
CHAPTER 96
Cross
ALEX CROSS FEELS THE shotgun at his back as Colton Brophy nudges him across the scrubby farmyard. Alex’s pistol is now in Brophy’s pocket along with his ID and cell phone.
Next to the barn, the pigs are rooting and squealing in their pen. Alex is mentally kicking himself for not realizing that the bomb shelter might have another exit. He’d been too busy looking ahead to check his flank. Stupid mistake. Careless. Possibly fatal.
Brophy marches Alex into the pen, then grabs his shoulder and pulls him to a stop. “Face down, arms out.”
Alex slowly drops to the ground. The shit-and-ammonia odor here is almost overwhelming. His eyes start to water. He’s heard of bodies being fed to pigs. He’s seen the results on forensics videos. Nothing left but dentures. Alex has all his natural teeth.
He turns his head in the dirt and sees Brophy again lifting the metal hatch with one hand, shotgun tucked under the other arm.
“You’re making a big mistake,” says Alex. “I’m with the FBI.”
“I know. You told me. You gave me your card, remember? Psychologist. I checked into you. You’re some kind of expert on the criminal mind.”
“That’s right. Which means people will be looking for me.”
“Maybe you should have brought them along.”
Alex feels the barrel in his side as Brophy prods him to his feet. But this is as far as Alex plans to go. He knows the stats. Resistance is his best chance. Maybe hisonlychance.
As he pushes himself to his feet, he curls his right fingers into his palm, gathering a fistful of loose dirt and straw.
Brophy gestures toward the hatch opening. Alex can make out a dim light below. Stepping closer, he sees a metal ladder that looks like something repurposed from a manhole.
“Turn around,” says Brophy. “Back down.”
Alex turns his back to the hatch, facing Brophy. He lunges forward, whipping the dirt into Brophy’s face, then plows his shoulder into his midsection. Brophy just grunts. It’s like trying to topple a statue. He shoves Alex back by the shoulders and thrusts the shotgun barrel into his solar plexus.Hard.
Alex crumples, then staggers back, breathless and off balance.
He feels himself falling into the pit. He hears the pigs squealing.
His head strikes something hard.
A stunning pain.
And he’s out.
CHAPTER 97
Sampson
I’M LEANING AGAINST Gina Maine’s kitchen counter, watching her drop another pair of surgical gloves into the trash. Her scrubs are streaked with blood. She’s glaring at me.
“You did a good job,” I tell her.
