In the mountainside pool overlooking Phoenix and the sprawl of the desert.

“I trust you, too,” I said as the big American Airlines jet passed right over our heads.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

PART THREE

THE FOOT SOLDIER

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Fifty-Seven

I got back to Washington on Sunday night at eleven. There was more of a bounce in my step and a smile plastered on my face. I'd forgotten about the rigors of the murder investigation for a couple of days and Jamilla was the reason why.

Nana was waiting up in the kitchen. What was this? She sat at the table without her usual cup of tea and with no book to read. When she saw me come in, she waved me over and gave me a hug. “Hello, Alex. You have a good trip? You say hello to Jamilla for me? You better.”

I looked down into her brown eyes. They seemed a little sad. Couldn't hide it from me. “Something's wrong.” Fear had grabbed at me already. Was she sick? How sick?

Nana shook her head. “No, not really, sweetheart. I just couldn't sleep. So tell me about the trip. How was Jamilla?” she asked, and her eyes brightened. Nana definitely liked Jamilla. No hiding that either.

“Oh, she's good and she says hello too. She misses everybody. I hope I can get her to come East again, but you know, she's a California girl at heart.”

Nana nodded. “I hope she comes back,” she said. “Jamilla is a real strong woman. You've met your match with that one. I won't hold it against her that she's from out West. Anyway, I guess Oakland is more like DC than San Francisco. Don't you think?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

I continued to look into Nana's eyes. I didn't get it. She wasn't giving me a hard time like she usually does. What was up? We were quiet for the next minute or so. Unusual for us. We usually jabber back and forth until one of us surrenders.

“You know, I'm eighty-two years old. I never felt like I was seventy, or seventy-five, or even eighty. But Alex, suddenly I feel my age. I'm eighty-two. Give or take.”

She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. The sadness was back in her eyes, maybe even a little fear. I felt a lump in my throat. Something was wrong with her. What was it? Why wouldn't she tell me?

“I've had a pain lately, in my chest. Shortness of breath. Angina or whatever. Not so good, not so good.”

“Have you seen Dr. Rodman? Or Bill Montgomery?” I asked.

“I saw Kayla Coles. She was in the neighborhood treating a man a few houses down from us.”

I didn't understand. “Who's Kayla Coles?”

“Dr. Kayla makes house calls in Southeast. She's organized about a dozen doctors and nurses who come into the neighborhood to help people here. She's a fabulous doctor and a good person, Alex. She's doing a lot of good in Southeast. I like her tremendously.”