Book Three Hanging With The Big Dogs

Chapter Forty-Si

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.

'I'm moving away from the Washington area, "she said," I'll leave after the school year. I don't want you to know where I'm going. I don't want you looking for me. Please don't try to be a detective with me, Alex. Or a shrink."

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. I hadn't expected anything like this. I stood there speechless, just staring at Christine. I don't think I'd ever felt so devastated, so saddened and alone in my life. I felt hollowed-out and empty.

"What about the baby?" I finally said in a whisper that came out hoarse and strangled.

Tears suddenly welled in her beautiful eyes. Christine began to sob, and to shake. Uncontrollably." I can't take Alex with me. Not the way I am. Not like this. The baby has to stay with you and Nana for now."

I started to speak, but nothing came out, not a word. Christine held eye contact with me briefly. Her eyes were so sad, so hurt and confused. Then she turned away and walked back to her house. She disappeared inside.

Chapter Forty-Eight

I was angry and sad and I was holding it all inside. I knew better than to do that, which only made it worse. Physician, heal thyself.

I happened to see my psychiatrist, Adele Finaly, in church on Sunday morning. We were attending the nine o'clock sen dee with our families. We moved to the rear vestibule to talk. Adele must have seen something in my eyes. She doesn't miss much and knows me well since I've been seeing her for almost four years.

"Did Rosie the cat die or something?" she asked and smiled.

"Rosie's just fine, Adele. So am I. Thanks for your concern."

"Uh-huh. Then why do you look like Ali the morning after he fought Joe Frazier in Manila? Can you please explain that for me? Also, you didn't shave for church."

"That's a nice dress,” I told her," The color looks good on you."

Adele frowned and would have none of it. "Right. Gray is definitely not my color, Alex. What's wrong?"

"Not a thing."

Adele lit a votive candle. "I just love magic," she whispered and smiled mischievously. "I haven't seen you in a while, Alex. That's either very good or very bad."

I lit a votive candle myself. Then I said a prayer. "Dear Lord, continue to watch over Jannie. I also wish that Christine wasn't moving away from Washington. I know you must be testing me again."

Adele winced as if she'd been burned. She looked away from the flickering votive flame and into my eyes. "Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry. You don't need anymore tests."

"I'm all right," I told her. I didn't want to get into it now, not even with Adele.

"Oh, Alex, Alex." She shook her head back and forth. Tern know better than that. I know better."

"I'm fine, really."

Adele looked completely exasperated with me. "Fine, then. That will be one hundred for the visit. You can put it in the collection basket."

Adele walked back to her family, who were already seated about halfway down the center aisle. She turned, and looked at me. She wasn't smiling now.

When I got to our pew, Damon asked me who the pretty lady was that I'd been talking to in the back of the church.

"She's a doctor. A friend of mine,” I said, which was true enough.

"Is she your doctor? What kind of doctor is she? She looks like she's kind of mad at you," he whispered. "What did you do wrong?"

"I didn't do anything wrong,” I whispered back at Damon. "Don't I get any privacy?"