Double Cross

Chapter 48

WHEN HE CAME BACK downstairs to say good-bye to his mom, he had discarded the rubber mask. He’d worn it on most of the drive from Florence to Aspen, but it probably wasn’t wise to push his luck too far. The same could be said for being here at the house-except that few people knew his mother stayed here-and he did need the money after all, needed it for his plan, to make all his nightmares come true.

He snuck up on Miriam, whom he had hog-tied to his father’s old lounge chair in the family room. Right in front of the twelve-foot-high fireplace. God, how many memories were here-his father screaming at him until his veins looked like they would burst, the general striking him so many times he lost count. And Miriam-never saying a word, pretending that she didn’t know about the beatings, the tongue-lashings, the years of constant abuse.

“Boo-Mommy!” Kyle said as he popped up behind the old girl. He wondered if she remembered how he used to do this when he was just a little boy, five or six years old at the most. Boo-Mommy! Pay attention to me, please?

“Well, I’m through with the bulk of my business here in Colorado. I’m a wanted man, y’know, so I’d best hit the road. Oh dear, you’re shaking like a leaf. Listen, sweetie, you’re perfectly safe here in this house, this fortress of yours. Alarms everywhere. Even a snowmelt system on the walk and driveway.”

He leaned in close to her-smelled lavender, and it was like reliving a nightmare of things past, things gone terribly, terribly wrong in his life.

“I’m not going to murder you, for God’s sake. Is that what you were thinking? No! No! No! I want you to watch what I do from now on. You’re an important witness for me. I’m working to heap honor on you and Dad too.

“Speaking of which, tell me one thing-did you know that he struck me almost every day when I was a boy? Did you know that? Tell me that one thing. It will stay between the two of us. I won’t tell Oprah or anything like that. No memoirs for me. I’m no James Frey or Augusten Burroughs.”

It took her nearly a minute to get the words out. “Kyle… I didn’t, I didn’t know. What are you talking about, anyway? You always made things up.”

He smiled down at her. “Ahhh. That’s a relief.”

Then he pulled out a Beretta, one of the guns Mason Wainwright had left for him in his car.

“Changed my mind, Mom. Sorry. I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I’ve ached to do it. Now watch this. Watch the little black hole at the end of the barrel. You see that? Tiny eternal abyss? Watch the hole, watch the hole, watch the abyss, and -”

Bang!

He shot his mother right between the eyes. Shot her a couple of times for good measure. Then he left a few clues behind for the investigators who would show up at the house eventually.

Clue #1: In the kitchen-a half-finished bottle of Arthur Bryant’s barbecue sauce.

Clue #2: Propped on the bedroom dresser, a Hallmark card with no handwritten message.

Not easy clues but clues all the same. Something for the hunters to go on.

If they were any good at their jobs.

If Alex Cross was one of those hot on his trail, anyway.

“Catch me if you can, Dr. Detective. Figure out all the puzzles, and the murders will stop. But I doubt that’s what is going to happen. I could be wrong, but I don’t think anybody could catch me twice.”