Page 42 of The Family Cross

“Someone shot a young woman in the head and set her on fire behind the tool-rental place.”

“What?” Milly said, horrified. “I saw the yellow police tape over there, but I—”

“The victim was last picked up by a camera at the front of the tool store. She was seen arriving in an Uber around one a.m. and entering your parking lot, heading toward your front door. I need to see your security tapes.”

“Sure,” the manager said nervously. “We’ve got nothing to hide. Blinky, our chief of security, will help you, but he just stepped out to get us both an early dinner.”

“How long before he gets back?”

“Ten minutes?”

Sampson pulled out his phone and called up some of the pictures Alex had sent him from Corey McGovern’s Instagram account.

“Ever seen her?” he asked, starting with the most recent post, the one with the caption about making way for a positive day.

“Nope, I don’t know her,” Milly said, “and she’s too young to get in here.”

“She had an ID that said she was twenty-two,” Sampson replied. “It’s an outstanding fake.” He called up another picture, this one of the victim in a black cocktail dress, high heels, and makeup.

The strip-club manager studied it admiringly. “I still don’t recognize her. But she looks ten years older there.”

“She does,” Sampson said, thumbing to the next picture, the one where McGovern was flanked by Hawk and Choir Boy. “Here she is again. How about these two? Know either of these guys?”

Milly started to shake her head but then took the phone from Sampson and studied it closely. She used her fingers to zoom in on the image.

“Never seen the hunk on her left,” she said. “But I remember the chubby dude on her right because of that T-shirt. He came in a couple of weeks ago wearing it, and he stank bad. None of the girls would go near him. And he had a weird first name. I remember that.”

“Weird like what?” Sampson asked.

She squinted, thinking. “Aldo? No.” She thought some more, then smiled. “Aldous. I remember because he said it rhymed with Albus—you know, like Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter series?”

39

NANA MAMA’S EYELIDS KEPT twitching, but her eyes had not yet opened. Bree stepped aside, and I moved in to hold her hand.

“Nana,” I said gently. “It’s time to wake up.”

For a few seconds, nothing. Then she parted her lips and said weakly, “Uh?”

“It’s Alex,” I said. “Time to wake up now. Dr. Ames says you’re ready.”

For a time, maybe ten seconds, my grandmother did not react. But then, as if through sheer fortitude, her eyes came about a quarter of the way open.

“That’s it,” I said, squeezing her hand. “A little more now. Try to find me.”

Nana Mama closed her eyes, sighed, then cracked open her eyes again, a little wider this time. I could see her eyes moving slowly, as if things were blurry, unfocused.

Then my grandmother turned her head slightly toward me; her eyes found my face for a second, drifted away, then came back. “Alex?”

“I’m right here, Nana,” I said, fighting tears as my aunts, Damon, and Bree began to cheer quietly. “Do you know where you are?”

She shook her head ever so slightly, then winced and closed her eyes again.

“You’re in St. Anthony’s,” I said. “You had a minor stroke and you hit your head when you fell off the back stoop. Do you remember?”

Nana opened her eyes, focused on me again, and again shook her head slightly.

“Ali found you,” I said. “You had an operation on your head. Two, actually.”