NYPD Red 6 - James Patterson Page 0,96

let me know that she didn’t appreciate me making fun of her cousin, and half a smile, because I was so damned adorable when I did it.

“You know they didn’t go to Disney World, and Shane doesn’t have to call Aunt Janet. She calls him incessantly.”

“And how is his devoted mother these days?” I said.

“Deliriously happy. She said she’s never heard him talk like this about a woman before. She thinks he’s smitten with Kylie.”

I nodded. Kylie could smite mightily. I should know.

“Aunt Janet has been waiting a long time for Shane to find someone. She thinks Kylie may be the one.”

As did I.

“She has high hopes,” Cheryl said.

“For what?”

“Grandchildren.”

“You may want to tell Aunt Janet that Kylie isn’t exactly the maternal type. Also, she’s still very married to Spence, which could throw a monkey wrench into those granny dreams.”

“She knows about Spence, but Shane told her that Kylie said it’s over. It doesn’t matter if he comes back. She’s done with him.”

That’s exactly what she told me back at the academy. “I’m done with him.” Twenty-eight days later he came back, and I became history,

But Spence is Shane’s problem, not mine. The last thing I need to do is get involved in Kylie’s love life. Especially now, when mine is going so—

“Zach, what are you thinking?”

“Nothing. I mean, nothing except what a great weekend this has been.”

The waitress came and bailed me out. She set two glasses of champagne down on the table. “Congratulations on your anniversary,” she said, her voice as bubbly as the wine.

“I wonder how she knew,” Cheryl said once the waitress was gone.

I shrugged. “I may have let it slip when we checked in.”

“A toast,” she said, lifting her glass. “This past year has been … ” She stared at me, groping for a word. Finally, she settled on one. “Interesting.”

I would have gone with rocky. Over the past year, we’d tried living together, but that failed. Then there was the time I almost blew the relationship by acting like a jerk because Cheryl spent days on end with her ex when his mother died. And of course she was none too happy about how invested I was in Kylie’s personal life, especially after Spence disappeared, and she caught me digging into the past of Kylie’s poker-playing boyfriend.

“You’re right about that,” I said, raising my glass. “Cheers.” I started to drink.

“I’m not finished,” she said.

I lowered my glass.

She smiled. “Let me take it from the top. This past year has been extremely interesting. Here’s to next year. Let’s hope it’s a lot less interesting.”

I laughed so hard I almost spilled my champagne.

“I know, I know,” Cheryl said, touching her glass to mine. “But I can dream, can’t I?”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors would like to thank the following people for their help in making this work of fiction ring true: NYPD Detective Danny Corcoran, Bergen County, New Jersey, ADA Jessica Gomperts, Dr. Jon Madek, Lily Karp, Matthew Diamond, Gabe Diamond, Dan Fennessy, Bill Harrison, David Hinds, Mel Berger, and Bob Beatty.

READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF THE NEXT BLOCKBUSTER

THE PRESIDENT’S DAUGHTER

BY

BILL CLINTON

― AND ―

JAMES PATTERSON

COMING IN JUNE 2021

Lake Marie, New Hampshire

AN HOUR OR SO after my daughter, Mel, leaves, I’ve showered, had my second cup of coffee, and read the newspapers—just skimming them, really, for it’s a sad state of affairs when you eventually realize just how wrong journalists can be in covering stories. With a handsaw and a set of pruning shears, I head off to the south side of our property.

It’s a special place, even though my wife, Samantha, has spent less than a month here in all her visits. Most of the land in the area is conservation land, never to be built upon, and of the people who do live here, almost all follow the old New Hampshire tradition of never bothering their neighbors or gossiping about them to visitors or news reporters.

Out on the lake is a white Boston Whaler with two men supposedly fishing, although they are Secret Service. Last year the Union Leader newspaper did a little piece about the agents stationed aboard the boat—calling them the unluckiest fishermen in the state—but since then, they’ve been pretty much left alone.

As I’m chopping, cutting, and piling brush, I think back to two famed fellow POTUS brush cutters—Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush—and how their exertions never quite made sense to a lot of people. They thought, Hey, you’ve been at the pinnacle of fame and power, why go out and get