Merry Christmas, Alex Cross

CHAPTER 30

Fowler was definitely toying with us, demonstrating that even when he was in mortal danger, with threats from the snipers and SWAT assaulters all around him, he was the one who decided who lived, who died. I could have gone the anger route, called him on it, put more pressure on him, but something told me it would backfire.

“You love your dog, Fowler?” I asked.

“What kind of man doesn’t love his dog?” he replied sharply.

“A man who has a cat,” I said.

“Funny, Cross.”

“I appreciate you letting the dog go,” I said. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Mindy,” Fowler said.

“We thank you for releasing Mindy, and I assure you she’ll be well cared for. But I need more, Fowler, if I’m going to keep these trained professionals from kicking down your door and trying to blow your head off before you can hurt anyone else.”

A long silence. “Like what?”

I looked over at Nu and McGoey and then said, “I want to come in again-with medical personnel. I want to take Barry out of there.”

Fowler began to scream, finally going rhino. We heard things breaking, and then he came back on the line. “I don’t care what you want! I want what I want! Barry’s going to die! Got that? He’s going to die for what he did to me! And so is my ex-wife. They took my life! Now I’m going to take theirs. I am going to kill them all.”

“I’m coming in, Henry,” I said. “Right now.”

But he’d hung up.