“I’m not here to stick you in a hole.”
Tess sniggered. “Course you are.”
“I’m not. I just want to talk things over.”
For several seconds, there was no reply. The door creaked as she leaned against it. I heard her shift position on the floor.
I glanced over at her father, who stood at the head of the stairs looking like he was listening to someone drown.
“Tess?” I said. “Can I just talk, then? Would that be okay?”
“Whatever you want,” she said, returning to that bewildered voice. “Just do it nice and quiet. I hear you fine.”
I paused, trying to think ahead, trying to figure out the best way to get her to come out and turn over the—
Saa-chunk.
CHAPTER
41
THE SOUND FROZE my thoughts. I’d heard it a thousand times in my life, maybe more, the particular noise a double-action revolver makes when a thumb cocks the hammer into firing position.
“Tess,” I said, stepping quietly to the side of the door and out of the potential line of fire. “Do you have a gun in there?”
In that off voice, she said, “Hate rats in my closets.”
I glanced at her father, motioned for him to be patient, and said, “A lot of people care about you, Tess. They’d like to help you. I’d like to come in and help you. Your dad would too.”
“No need,” Tess said wearily, sounding as if she might be falling asleep. “Ask my dad. Tessie’s an impatient girl, can’t wait for pest control to do its thing.”
“Will you do me a favor? Will you put the gun down beside you, at least?”
“No, Alex,” she whispered. “What would be the point of that?”
I decided to shake her a bit. “I asked you before if you were self-medicating. You said no. But your dad just showed me twelve different meds in your kitchen.”
After a pause, she said, “Legitimate prescriptions from licensed docs.”
“Except I don’t think the other doctors knew everything you’d been prescribed, Tess,” I said. “There are several drugs down there—antidepressants and antipsychotics—that pose a significant risk when combined. You could have a very serious drug interaction, one that could stop your heart, trigger a stroke, potentially damage your brain, wipe out your long-term memory.”
In a slow, modulated whisper, Tess said, “Hasn’t. Worked. Yet.”
The gun barked.
It startled me so badly I jumped back before feeling the horror and disbelief well in me. Tess had shot herself. She was dead, right there on the other side of that door. My knees went to rubber and I grabbed at the banister, feeling like I was going to be sick. Bernie Aaliyah roared in panic and despair, “No!”
He limped fast to her door and pounded on it. “Tess! Answer me! Tess, you answer me right now!”
In the short silenc
e that followed, I said, “Bernie?”
Tess’s father twisted his head to look at me, enraged. “Shut up, you. I never should have called you, Cross. You’ve killed her, that’s what you’ve done!”
Part Three
THE PROSECUTION OF ALEX CROSS