The caller liked to be completely in control, I was thinking as I stood there helpless in front of the busy drugstore. He’d made me wait this long since the Bermuda call, possibly to demonstrate his power. Now he was doing it again. What did he really want, though? Why had he taken Christine? We have her, he’d said, and he’d repeated the very same words when he called my house. Was there really a we? What kind of group did he represent? What did they want?

I stood at the pay phone for ten minutes, fifteen, twenty. I felt as if I were going mad, but I would stay there all night if I had to. I began to wonder if this was the right phone, but I knew it was. He had been crystal-clear, calm, in control.

For the first time in weeks I allowed myself to truly hope that Christine might be alive. I imagined her face, her deep-brown eyes that showed so much love and warmth. Maybe, just maybe, I would be allowed to talk to her.

I let my anger build toward the unknown caller. But then I cut it off, shut down my emotions, and waited with a cool head.

People came and went, in and out of the drugstore. A few wanted to use the phone. They took one look at me and then moved on in search of another phone.

At five minutes to nine, the phone rang. I lifted the receiver instantly.

“This is Alex Cross,” I said.

“Yes, I know who you are. That’s already been established. Here’s what you should do. Back all the way off. Just back away. Before you lose everything you care about. It can happen so easily. In a snap. You’re smart enough to understand that, aren’t you?”

Then the caller hung up. The line was dead.

I banged the phone with the receiver. I cursed loudly. The manager from the drugstore had come outside and was staring at me.

“I’m going to call the police,” he said. “That’s a public phone.” I didn’t bother to tell him I was the police.

Chapter 63

WAS IT THE WEASEL who had called? Was I dealing with one killer, or more than one?

If only I had some idea who the caller was and who he meant by we. The message scared me just as much as the first one had, maybe even more; but it also gave me hope that Christine might still be alive.

With hope came a jolting surge of pain. If only they would put Christine on the phone. I needed to hear her voice.

What did they want? “Back all the way off.” Back off from what?