The People vs. Alex Cross
- Автор: Паттерсон Джеймс
- Серия: Alex Cross #25
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Century
- ISBN: 978-1-78089-515-4
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The People vs. Alex Cross». Краткое содержание книги:
She grew more frustrated, in part because, while the chemicals of falling in love carry with them the rush of amphetamines, the chemicals of long-term love are more like a gentle opioid calming the brain, sedating it, in a sense.
“In retrospect, there was that, for sure,” Cassidy said. “I felt groggy all the time, like a sleepwalker. Even through the haze, I could see that I’d screwed up. I realized I hadn’t married the Prince Charming in my fairy tale. I’d married the frog.”
That crushed Cassidy. She felt like she’d settled for less than the perfect love and the beautiful life she’d been promised. Shortly afterward, she met Chet, a man who came to work at her real estate firm. Chet was handsome and funny. They flirted. He listened to her. The chemicals of new love trickled in her brain.
“I came awake, alive again,” Cassidy said. “But I did the right thing.”
She said that many women raised in the traditions of the princess myth will ask for a separation from the frog, hinting that they might be willing to recommit at a later date. They string the frog out for years, punishing him with hopes of reconciliation dashed, unwarranted restraining orders, and false charges of abuse and neglect.
“It’s all done out of spite,” she said. “They feel cheated. The fairy tale is not true, so they take their rage out on the husband while getting some love chemicals on the side.
“But I absolutely did not do that. I did not play torture-the-frog just because Kevin was not Prince C. He could have easily turned out to be an ogre, am I right? The point is that as soon as I had a commitment from Chet, I told Kevin to his face that I had to be free to love and that I wanted a divorce.”
Cassidy moved in with Chet until the chemical attraction wore off, about two years later. Chet’s place in her heart was soon occupied by Steven. Twenty-six months later, she met Carlos, a deep sleepwalker, who was ten years into his marriage.
“I woke Carlos up,” Cassidy said, and she chuckled. “In a big way.”
I glanced at the clock. “Our hour’s almost up, but I have a quick question.”
Cassidy said, “Okay.”
“What do you want out of our sessions? If we go on, I mean.”
She sighed, studied the ceiling, and said, “I’ve been eighteen months with Carlos. He’s a stand-up guy. He divorced his wife for me, and I really do love him. Not only that, I genuinely like him. He’s my best friend ever. But I know what’s coming in six months, a year at the outside, and I... I guess I want to learn how to be a sleepwalker and stay with someone forever.”
I smiled. “That’s a good goal.”
“Something we can talk about next time?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Cassidy took her iPhone off the table and got up. “Thank you, Dr. Cross.”
“You’re more than welcome. I’ll need an e-mail address to send my forms.”
“Oh,” she said, her brow knitting. “I had a computer virus over the weekend and I’m between e-mails at the moment. I’m opening a new account on Gmail tonight. Can I ping you with it?”
“That works.”
“Thank you for understanding all this.”
“It’s what I do.”
“And you do it well,” she said. She smiled uncertainly and left.
I stood there a few moments, wondering if Bree and I were sleepwalkers, then deciding that if we were, I was more than happy in my semiconscious state of marital bliss.
Remembering I had to take some leaves I’d raked and bagged out front for pickup, I went outside. The light was fading. Drizzle fell. I got the leaf bags, carried them around the house, and put them on the sidewalk.
I happened to look down the block and saw Cassidy getting into a black Nissan Pathfinder. Wondering if her Carlos might be driving, I walked a few yards that way and was in deep shadow near a retaining wall when the Pathfinder came closer, headlights off.
I could see the silhouette of Cassidy sitting sideways, facing the driver, who was just a dark shape until the Pathfinder crossed beneath a street lamp. For a second his face was clearly visible through the windshield.
Recognition stopped me cold. I was confused.
What was Annie Cassidy doing with Alden Lindel?
Chapter 69
Gretchen Lindel’s father used to tell her that the brain could be the strongest part of the body, or the most fragile.
“It’s your choice, Gretch,” he’d said not long before she’d been taken captive in the twisted world of sickos.
Lying on her filthy mattress in her plywood cell, holding her left leg so it wouldn’t be irritated any further by the manacle around her ankle, the seventeen-year-old was doing everything she could to keep her mind strong.
I am going to get out of here, Gretchen kept telling herself. I just have to survive long enough to get the chance. I’m going to be like Dad. Nothing they’ve done hurts me in any way. It makes me stronger. This only makes me stronger.
But it had been several days since they’d come for her. Hour upon hour of silence created all sorts of dark voices in her mind.
Doubt crept up on Gretchen and whispered that she’d die there in the box. Fear wormed its way into her stomach and said they’d take her again before that happened. Self-pity wrapped her head and heart, told her she was defeated.
But time and time again, whenever Gretchen realized the voices of despair were taking control of her thoughts, she’d think of her father and everything he’d endured, and she’d take heart.
I will survive. They can’t hurt me. This will only make me—
The dead bolts turned. She closed her eyes, not knowing if this was a meal or another of their twisted games. If it was a game, she was done crying. She was done being scared. They seemed to feed on her fright, and as the door swung open she vowed to give them none.
The big one in black came in carrying a semiautomatic AR rifle. Her father had one just like it.
“It’s time, Gretchen,” he said from behind the paintball mask. “We’re all but done here. Cleanup time now.”
Gretchen said nothing, just stared through him as if he didn’t matter anymore, as if nothing mattered anymore.
Be like Dad, she thought as he went to work on her ankle manacle.
For God’s sake, be like Dad.
Chapter 70
Had that been Gretchen Lindel’s father driving the Pathfinder?
I kept trying to convince myself I was wrong, but each time I closed my eyes, I saw Alden Lindel clearly. But why? And how?
When Annie Cassidy called to set up the appointment, she’d said that Father Fiore had referred her, hadn’t she? Well, now that I thought about it, she hadn’t actually used his name. She’d said she’d gotten my number from “a mutual friend, a priest with challenging problems.”
And Lindel? He’d contacted me directly. No reference that I remembered.
What were the odds of two people who knew each other coming to my office and never mentioning it to me?
I thought about Gretchen Lindel’s mother, Eliza, and how distraught she’d been in the days after her daughter’s kidnapping. Was Annie Cassidy the reason she and her husband separated? Had she used fake names for her lovers? Was Alden Lindel actually Carlos?
I went inside, told my grandmother I was going out, and got the car keys.
By the time I drove into a residential neighborhood west of the Cabin John Parkway, it was pitch-dark and the rain had stopped. I found the address I was looking for and parked the car across the street from a brick-faced Colonial with a big flower bed gone dormant, a crushed-gravel driveway, and a bronze Volvo station wagon. Lights gleamed in the narrow windows that flanked the front door.