Book Excerpt: 'Violets Are Blue'
— -- The following is an excerpt from James Patterson's Violets Are Blue.
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Prologue
WITHOUT ANY WARNING
CHAPTER 1
NOTHING EVER STARTS where we think it does. So ofcourse this doesn't begin with the vicious and cowardly murderof an FBI agent and good friend named Betsey Cavalierre.I only thought that it did. My mistake, and a really big andpainful one.
I arrived at Betsey's house in Woodbridge, Virginia, in themiddle of the night. I'd never been there before, but I didn'thave any trouble finding it. The FBI and EMS were alreadythere. There were flashing red and yellow lights everywhere,seeming to paint the lawn and front porch with bright, dangerousstreaks.
I took a deep breath and walked inside. My sense of balancewas off. I was reeling. I acknowledged a tall blond FBIagent I knew named Sandy Hammonds. I could see that Sandyhad been crying. She was a friend of Betsey's.
On a hallway table I saw Betsey's service revolver. Beside itwas a printed reminder for her next shooting qualifier at theFBI range. The irony stung.
I forced myself to walk down a long hallway that led fromthe living room to the back of the house. The house lookedto be close to a hundred years old and was filled with thekind of country clutter that she'd loved. The master bedroomwas situated at the end of the hall.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there.The FBI techs and the local police were swarming around theopen door like angry wasps near a threatened hive. The housewas strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as it gets, worsethan anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years.And Betsey had been much more than just a partner.How could this have happened? What did it mean?I saw Betsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floorand I went cold. My hand flew to my face, a reflex I had nocontrol over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't seethem anywhere in the bedroom. The lower body was coatedwith blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punished Betsey with it. Idesperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
I arrived at Betsey's house in Woodbridge, Virginia, in themiddle of the night. I'd never been there before, but I didn'thave any trouble finding it. The FBI and EMS were alreadythere. There were flashing red and yellow lights everywhere,seeming to paint the lawn and front porch with bright, dangerousstreaks.
I took a deep breath and walked inside. My sense of balancewas off. I was reeling. I acknowledged a tall blond FBIagent I knew named Sandy Hammonds. I could see that Sandyhad been crying. She was a friend of Betsey's.
On a hallway table I saw Betsey's service revolver. Beside itwas a printed reminder for her next shooting qualifier at theFBI range. The irony stung.
I forced myself to walk down a long hallway that led fromthe living room to the back of the house. The house lookedto be close to a hundred years old and was filled with thekind of country clutter that she'd loved. The master bedroomwas situated at the end of the hall.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there.The FBI techs and the local police were swarming around theopen door like angry wasps near a threatened hive. The housewas strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as it gets, worsethan anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years.And Betsey had been much more than just a partner.How could this have happened? What did it mean?I saw Betsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floorand I went cold. My hand flew to my face, a reflex I had nocontrol over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't seethem anywhere in the bedroom. The lower body was coatedwith blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punished Betsey with it. Idesperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
I took a deep breath and walked inside. My sense of balancewas off. I was reeling. I acknowledged a tall blond FBIagent I knew named Sandy Hammonds. I could see that Sandyhad been crying. She was a friend of Betsey's.
On a hallway table I saw Betsey's service revolver. Beside itwas a printed reminder for her next shooting qualifier at theFBI range. The irony stung.
I forced myself to walk down a long hallway that led fromthe living room to the back of the house. The house lookedto be close to a hundred years old and was filled with thekind of country clutter that she'd loved. The master bedroomwas situated at the end of the hall.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there.The FBI techs and the local police were swarming around theopen door like angry wasps near a threatened hive. The housewas strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as it gets, worsethan anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years.And Betsey had been much more than just a partner.How could this have happened? What did it mean?I saw Betsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floorand I went cold. My hand flew to my face, a reflex I had nocontrol over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't seethem anywhere in the bedroom. The lower body was coatedwith blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punished Betsey with it. Idesperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
I took a deep breath and walked inside. My sense of balancewas off. I was reeling. I acknowledged a tall blond FBIagent I knew named Sandy Hammonds. I could see that Sandyhad been crying. She was a friend of Betsey's.
On a hallway table I saw Betsey's service revolver. Beside itwas a printed reminder for her next shooting qualifier at theFBI range. The irony stung.
I forced myself to walk down a long hallway that led fromthe living room to the back of the house. The house lookedto be close to a hundred years old and was filled with thekind of country clutter that she'd loved. The master bedroomwas situated at the end of the hall.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there.The FBI techs and the local police were swarming around theopen door like angry wasps near a threatened hive. The housewas strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as it gets, worsethan anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years.And Betsey had been much more than just a partner.How could this have happened? What did it mean?I saw Betsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floorand I went cold. My hand flew to my face, a reflex I had nocontrol over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't seethem anywhere in the bedroom. The lower body was coatedwith blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punished Betsey with it. Idesperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
On a hallway table I saw Betsey's service revolver. Beside itwas a printed reminder for her next shooting qualifier at theFBI range. The irony stung.
I forced myself to walk down a long hallway that led fromthe living room to the back of the house. The house lookedto be close to a hundred years old and was filled with thekind of country clutter that she'd loved. The master bedroomwas situated at the end of the hall.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there.The FBI techs and the local police were swarming around theopen door like angry wasps near a threatened hive. The housewas strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as it gets, worsethan anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years.And Betsey had been much more than just a partner.How could this have happened? What did it mean?I saw Betsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floorand I went cold. My hand flew to my face, a reflex I had nocontrol over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't seethem anywhere in the bedroom. The lower body was coatedwith blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punished Betsey with it. Idesperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there.The FBI techs and the local police were swarming around theopen door like angry wasps near a threatened hive. The housewas strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as it gets, worsethan anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years.And Betsey had been much more than just a partner.How could this have happened? What did it mean?I saw Betsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floorand I went cold. My hand flew to my face, a reflex I had nocontrol over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't seethem anywhere in the bedroom. The lower body was coatedwith blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punished Betsey with it. Idesperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they sawnothing. I remembered kissing those eyes and that sweetface. I remembered Betsey's laugh, high-pitched and musical.I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey, missing herterribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn'tleave her like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure outsomething coherent about Betsey's murder, the cell phone inmy jacket pocket went off. I jumped. I grabbed it, but then Ihesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right throughme. I shuddered against my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. Atpoor, dear, butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like apuppet on a string, Detective? You should," said the Mastermind."Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet,in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn'thave to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the backof my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure that out,no? You're the famous Detective Alex Cross. You have allthose big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ,you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after meright now? How about tonight? As you say, you know whereI am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under hisbreath. "How about I kill your grandmother and your threekids tonight? I know where they are too. You left your partnerwith them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. Icalled Sampson in Washington and he picked up on the secondring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped."Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here. You don'tsound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," Itold John. "The Mastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. Ihope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washingtonright now. Please be careful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-outtoward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying tosteady the phone against my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You canrelax, Dr. Cross. I can hear your labored breathing. I'm notgoing to hurt them tonight. I was just fucking with you. Havingsome fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. Butyou won't be fast enough. You can't get away from me. It'syou I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
--From Violets Are Blue, by James Patterson. Copyright © 2001. All rights reserved. Posted with permission of twbookmark.com.