“Christine.” Nana’s voice was tight and controlled. It sounded like a slow boil to me.

“And you must be Bree. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Christine.”

Bree was fantastic, no surprise. She got right up, walked over to Christine, and gave her a hug. “You’ve got an amazing son,” she said. Typical Bree — she can always find a way to speak the truth in any situation, even one as uncomfortable as this.

“Mommy, you want to see my room?” Ali was already tugging on her hand, leading her toward the hall and stairs.

“I sure do,” she said, and looked back at me — for permission, I think. In fact, everyone was staring at me now.

“How about we all three go?” I said, and got up to follow them out of the kitchen.

At the bottom of the stairs, Christine stopped and turned to me. Ali ran up ahead of us.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

“Do you?”

“Honestly, it’s nothing more than it seems, Alex. Just a surprise visit. I’ve got a conference in DC this week — and I couldn’t stay away from Ali.”

I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. Christine had shown herself to be a very changeable person over the years, including the way she fought for custody so hard and then gave it up just as quickly.

“You could have called first,” I said. “You should have called, Christine.”

Ali practically screamed from the top of the stairs, he was so excited. “Come on, you guys!”

“Here we come, little man!” I called to him. As we started up, I spoke low to Christine. “This is going to be a onetime thing. Nothing more than that. Okay?”

“Absolutely,” she said, and reached back to give my arm a squeeze. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Chapter 48

THE NEXT DAY was jam-packed for me, and I honestly didn’t give Christine much thought as my morning and most of my afternoon slipped away.

I saw both Bronson and Rebecca at their respective hospitals, performed some follow-up interviews in Woodley Park, did a consultation with the DA’s office on a separate case, and, finally, took some much-needed desk time to try and chip away at my stack of overdue reports.

Then, around three, I was picking up a late sandwich at the Firehook near the Daly Building — and I got a call from Ali’s school.

“Dr. Cross? It’s Mindy Templeton at Sojourner Truth.” Mindy was a school secretary and had been there for years, including during Christine’s tenure as principal.

“I feel a little awkward about this, but Christine Johnson’s here to pick up Alexander, and she’s not on his caregiver list. I just wanted to get your permission before we let him go.”

“What?”