“Still in jail,” she said. “Judge’s refusing to set any kind of bail.”
Matt was studying us—or, rather, me—intently.
“Is your friend the DA?” I asked quietly.
“Let me introduce you,” she said, “rattle his chain.”
“Rattle away,” I said.
Naomi walked me over to him, said, “Assistant district attorney Matthew Brady, this is my uncle and Stefan’s cousin Dr. Alex Cross, formerly of the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit and currently a special investigator with the Washington, DC, Metro Police.”
If Brady was impressed, he didn’t show it, and he shook my hand with little enthusiasm. “You’re here why, exactly?”
“My family and I have been through a rough time lately, so we’re on a little R and R to visit my roots and provide my cousin with some moral support,” I said.
“Well.” He sniffed and looked at Naomi. “I think you should be thinking plea bargain if you want to give Mr. Tate moral support.”
Naomi smiled. “You can stick that idea where the sun don’t shine.”
Brady grinned pleasantly and held up his hands, palms out. “Your call, but the way I see it, Naomi, you plead, and your client lives a life behind bars. You go to trial, and he most certainly gets the death penalty.”
“Good-bye,” she said sweetly as she took my arm. “We’ve got to be going.”
“Nice meeting you,” I said.
“Likewise, Dr. Cross,” he said and walked away.
“Kind of a cold fish,” I said when he was out of earshot and we were heading back to my car.
“He’s gotten that way since law school,” she said.
“So you’ve got history?”
“Just old classmates,” Naomi said, then broke into a squeal of delight when Jannie opened the Explorer’s door and climbed out.
In a few moments everyone was out on the sidewalk hugging Naomi, who couldn’t get over how tall and strong Jannie had become and got tears in her eyes when my grandmother kissed her.
“You don’t age, Nana,” Naomi said in wonder. “Is there a painting in an attic somewhere that shows your real age?”
“The Picture of Regina Cross.” Nana Mama chortled.
“It’s just so good to see you all,” Naomi said, and then her face fell slightly. “I just wish it were under different circumstances.”
My wife said, “We’ll figure out the real story, get Stefan released, and have a nice vacation.”
Naomi’s face fell a little further. “That’s easier said than done, Bree. But I know the aunties are waiting for us. Why don’t you follow me?”
“Can I drive with you, Scootchie?” Jannie asked.
“Of course you can,” Naomi said, and she pointed across the street. “I’m the little red Chevy there.”
We left downtown and entered more residential neighborhoods, which were full of sharp contrasts. The houses were either run-down or freshly painted. The cars were either brand-new or about to fall apart. And the people we saw on the streets were either shabbily dressed or turned out in the latest urban attire.
We drove onto the old arched bridge that spanned the Stark River Gorge. The granite walls of the gorge were six stories high and flanked the river, which was running fast and churning over huge boulders. Ali spotted kayakers down in the whitewater.
“Can I do that?” he cried.
“Not on your life,” Nana Mama said firmly.