Detective Cross

Chapter 1

Bree Stone was thirty minutes into her morning exercise and breathing hard as she ran east along a path by the Tidal Basin in Washington, DC. It was a gorgeous spring day in late March, warm with a fragrant breeze.

The Japanese cherry trees that lined the path were in full bloom, attracting early tourists. Bree had to dodge a few of them, but it was so pretty a setting and day that she didn’t mind.

She was in her late thirties, but her legs felt stronger than they had when she was just out of college. So did her breathing, and that pleased her. The daily exercise was working.

Leaving the Tidal Basin, Bree cut past the statue of John Paul Jones and jogged in place, waiting to cross 17th Street SE beside a DC bus discharging and loading passengers. When the bus sighed and rolled away, Bree looped around the pedestrians to cross the street, toward the National Sylvan Theater and another grove of blooming cherry trees. The cherry blossoms only peaked once a year and she intended to enjoy them as much as possible. She’d just passed a knot of Japanese tourists when her cell phone rang.

She plucked the phone from the small fanny pack she wore, but did not stop or slow. Bree glanced at the unfamiliar phone number and let her voice mail take the call. She ran on and soon could see a team of National Park Police raising the fifty American flags surrounding the base of the Washington Monument. Her phone rang again, same number.

Irritated, she stopped and answered, “Bree Stone.”

“Chief Bree Stone?”

The voice was male. Or was it? The tone wasn’t deep.

“Who’s calling, please?”

“Your worst nightmare, Chief. There’s an IED on the National Mall. You should have answered my first call. Now you only have fifty-eight minutes to figure out where I left it.”

The line died. Bree stared at the phone half a beat, then checked her watch. 7:28 a.m. Detonation: 8:26 a.m.? She hit a number on speed dial and surveyed the area, swallowing the impulse to get well off the Mall as fast as possible.

DC Metro Police Chief Jim Michaels answered on the second ring.

“Why is my chief of detectives calling me? I told her to take a few days off.”

“I just got an anonymous call, Jim,” Bree said. “An IED planted on the National Mall, set to go off at 8:26 a.m. We need to clear the area as fast as possible and bring in the dogs.”

In the short silence that followed, Bree thought of something and started sprinting toward the men raising flags.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a crank?” Chief Michaels said.

“Do you want to take the chance it isn’t a crank?”

Michaels let out a sharp puff of breath and said, “I’ll notify National Park and Capitol Hill Police. You sound like you’re running. Where are you?”

“On the Mall. Going to high ground to spot the bomber on his way out of Dodge.”