Book Three

Hanging With The Big Dogs

Chapter Forty-Six

Three days had passed without another robbery. One of them was a Saturday, and I got to spend the afternoon with the boy. At around six, I finally brought him back to Christine's.

Before we went inside, I carried little Alex around the flower garden behind her townhouse in Mitchellville. Her'country estate'I like to call it. The garden was glorious. Christine had planted and nurtured it herself. It was filled with a variety of roses: Hybrid teas, floribunda and grandiflora. It reminded me of how she had been before the kidnapping in Bermuda. Everything about the garden was visually pleasing. Which was probably why it felt so damn sad to be there without her.

I carried the boy easily on my hip, talking to him, pointing out the manicured lawn, a weeping willow tree, the sky, the setting sun. Then I showed him the similarity in our faces: Nose to nose, eyes to eyes, mouth to mouth. Every few minutes I'd stop to kiss Alex's cheek or neck or the top of his head.

"Smell the roses," I whispered.

I saw Christine hurrying out of the house a few minutes later. I could tell she had something on her mind. Her sister Natalie trailed close behind her. For protection? I had the feeling that they were about to gang up on me.

"Alex, we have to talk," Christine said as she came up to me in the garden," Natalie, could you take care of the baby for a few minutes?"

Reluctantly, I handed Alex over to Natalie. It didn't sound like I had a choice. Christine had changed so much in the past months. Sometimes, I felt as if I didn't even know her. Maybe it all had to do with her nightmares. They didn't seem to be getting any better.

"I have to get out some things. Don't say anything, please," she began.

Chapter Forty-Seven

I bit down on my tongue. This was the way it had been between us for months. I noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed. She'd been crying.

"You're off on another murder case now, Alex. I suppose that's good -it's your life. You're obviously very skilled at it."

I couldn't keep silent. "I've offered to leave the police department, to go into private practice. I'd do that, Christine."

She frowned and shook her head. "I'm so honored."

"I'm not trying to fight you,"I said. "I'm sorry, go ahead. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I have no life here in Washington anymore. I'm always afraid. Petrified is a better word. I hate going into the school now. I feel as if my life has been taken away from me. First George, and then what happened in Bermuda. I'm afraid that Shafer is coming back for me."

I had to speak. "He's not, Christine."

"Don't say that!" She raised her voice. "You don't know. You can't!"

The air in my lungs was slowly being sucked away. I wasn't sure where Christine was going with this, but she seemed on the edge. It was like the night she'd had a nightmare that Geoffrey Shafer was in her house.