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Authors: James Patterson
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“We received a formal request from the FBI late last night. They’ve asked that you work on the investigation of Senator Fitz-Patrick’s murder. Special Agent Kyle Craig strongly suggested that your background and recent experience might serve the investigation well. Obviously, it’s an important case, Alex.”
I let Chief Pittman finish, then I slowly shook my head no. “I’ve got a half-dozen open homicides here in Southeast,” I said. “The case I just worked on should have been solved months ago.
Then another little girl wouldn’t have died for no goddamn reason.
A homicide detective got reassigned off the killer’s trail back then. Now a little girl is dead. Six years old.”
“This is a major case, Alex,” the commissioner said. He had snow-white hair. His face was bright red, which happened when he was angry or disturbed. The two of us went back some. Usually we went along, got along. Maybe not this time.
“Tell the FBI that I can’t be spared for this Jack and Jill mess. I’ll call Kyle and make my peace with him. Kyle will understand. I’m on several homicide cases in Southeast. People die here, too. We have our own messes, and even
major
cases.”
“Let me ask you something, Alex,” the police commissioner said. He smiled gently as he spoke. Lots of beautifully capped white teeth. I could have played some sweet Gershwin on them, though maybe some key-slamming Little Richard would have been more satisfying.
“Do you still want to be a cop?” he asked.
That one landed, and it stung. It was a sucker punch, but a pretty good one.
“I want to be a good cop,” I said to him. “I want to do some good if I possibly can. Same as always. Nothing’s changed.”
“That’s the right answer,” the commissioner said as if I were a child who needed his instruction. “You’re on the Jack and Jill investigation. It’s been decided in very high places. You have experience with these kinds of murders, with lunatic psychotics. You are officially off all your other cases Now, be a
very
good cop, Alex. The FBI is almost certain Jack and Jill are going to kill again.”
So was I, so was I.
And I felt the very same thing about the Sojourner Truth School killer.
CHAPTER
16
I RESISTED the unique charms of the Jack and Jill case for one more day. Half a day, anyway. I tried to clear a few things on my watch in Southeast. I was furious about what had happened with Clouser and Pittman.
Shanelle Green had died because more detectives hadn’t been assigned to find Chop-It-Off-Chucky, hadn’t given Alvin Jackson the time of day. The whole sorry affair was race-related, no way around it, and it made me both angry and sad.
I came home early and spent the evening with Nana and the kids. I wanted to make sure they were okay after the murder at the Sojourner Truth School. At least that horror tale had been solved. But I still wasn’t over the child killing. I couldn’t get past it for a lot of reasons.
For half an hour or so, I gave Damon and Jannie their-weekly boxing lesson in the basement. To Damon’s credit, he’s never complained that the sessions include his sister. He just puts on the gloves.
They’re becoming tough little pugs, but more important, they’re learning when not to fight. Not many kids mess with them at school, but that’s mainly because they’re nice kids and know how to get along.
“Watch that footwork, Damon,” I told him. “You’re not supposed to be putting out a fire with your feet”
“You’re supposed to be
dancing,”
Jannie threw a little verbal jab at her brother. “Step, right. Back. Step, step, left.”
“I’ll do a dance on you in a minute,” Damon warned her off, and then they both laughed like hell.
A little later, we were upstairs in front of the tube. Jannie was crossing her small arms, squinting her brown eyes, and making a tough-as-nails face at me. It was her official, non-negotiable bedtime, but she had decided to lodge a protest.
“No,
I let Chief Pittman finish, then I slowly shook my head no. “I’ve got a half-dozen open homicides here in Southeast,” I said. “The case I just worked on should have been solved months ago.
Then another little girl wouldn’t have died for no goddamn reason.
A homicide detective got reassigned off the killer’s trail back then. Now a little girl is dead. Six years old.”
“This is a major case, Alex,” the commissioner said. He had snow-white hair. His face was bright red, which happened when he was angry or disturbed. The two of us went back some. Usually we went along, got along. Maybe not this time.
“Tell the FBI that I can’t be spared for this Jack and Jill mess. I’ll call Kyle and make my peace with him. Kyle will understand. I’m on several homicide cases in Southeast. People die here, too. We have our own messes, and even
major
cases.”
“Let me ask you something, Alex,” the police commissioner said. He smiled gently as he spoke. Lots of beautifully capped white teeth. I could have played some sweet Gershwin on them, though maybe some key-slamming Little Richard would have been more satisfying.
“Do you still want to be a cop?” he asked.
That one landed, and it stung. It was a sucker punch, but a pretty good one.
“I want to be a good cop,” I said to him. “I want to do some good if I possibly can. Same as always. Nothing’s changed.”
“That’s the right answer,” the commissioner said as if I were a child who needed his instruction. “You’re on the Jack and Jill investigation. It’s been decided in very high places. You have experience with these kinds of murders, with lunatic psychotics. You are officially off all your other cases Now, be a
very
good cop, Alex. The FBI is almost certain Jack and Jill are going to kill again.”
So was I, so was I.
And I felt the very same thing about the Sojourner Truth School killer.
CHAPTER
16
I RESISTED the unique charms of the Jack and Jill case for one more day. Half a day, anyway. I tried to clear a few things on my watch in Southeast. I was furious about what had happened with Clouser and Pittman.
Shanelle Green had died because more detectives hadn’t been assigned to find Chop-It-Off-Chucky, hadn’t given Alvin Jackson the time of day. The whole sorry affair was race-related, no way around it, and it made me both angry and sad.
I came home early and spent the evening with Nana and the kids. I wanted to make sure they were okay after the murder at the Sojourner Truth School. At least that horror tale had been solved. But I still wasn’t over the child killing. I couldn’t get past it for a lot of reasons.
For half an hour or so, I gave Damon and Jannie their-weekly boxing lesson in the basement. To Damon’s credit, he’s never complained that the sessions include his sister. He just puts on the gloves.
They’re becoming tough little pugs, but more important, they’re learning when not to fight. Not many kids mess with them at school, but that’s mainly because they’re nice kids and know how to get along.
“Watch that footwork, Damon,” I told him. “You’re not supposed to be putting out a fire with your feet”
“You’re supposed to be
dancing,”
Jannie threw a little verbal jab at her brother. “Step, right. Back. Step, step, left.”
“I’ll do a dance on you in a minute,” Damon warned her off, and then they both laughed like hell.
A little later, we were upstairs in front of the tube. Jannie was crossing her small arms, squinting her brown eyes, and making a tough-as-nails face at me. It was her official, non-negotiable bedtime, but she had decided to lodge a protest.
“No,
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