Criss Cross (Alex Cross) - James Patterson Page 0,77

pushing hard out of the gate.”

“But I like to push hard out of the gate,” Jannie said with a playful moan.

“And you will,” Bree said. “In twelve weeks.”

Jannie held up both palms. “I officially surrender.”

“Sometimes you have to surrender in order to fight another day,” Nana Mama said.

“Who said that?” Ali asked.

“I did,” my grandmother said. “Just now.”

“You should write that down, Nana,” he said.

“No, you should write that down,” she said.

Ali stared off into space for a second and was about to say something when his phone dinged. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, and a smile bloomed softly on his face.

“See?” my grandmother said. “They can’t keep their attention off their screens and on real life. I say write that down, but then— ping!—off he goes.”

Ali stuffed his phone back in his pocket, got up, and grabbed a notebook and a pen. “No, Nana, I’m going to write down all the stuff you say, and we’ll put it up on Twitter once a day. You know, like, hashtag-crazy-good-stuff-my-great-grandma-says.”

There was dead silence for a moment and then Jannie started laughing. “That could work!”

“Right!” Ali said, holding up his fist in triumph. “Nana Mama goes viral!”

My grandmother stared at both of them as if they’d lost their minds, which caused Bree and me to start laughing. It took only a few moments before Nana started to chuckle with us. “Honestly, I have no idea what’s so funny,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter. A good laugh will keep you from going toes up and six feet under.”

“Write that down!” Jannie cried, and we started laughing all over again.

CHAPTER 87

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, WILLIAM NOLAN’S attorney notified us that her client was willing to talk. Bree, John, and I were cleared through FBI security at the Bureau’s downtown headquarters soon afterward.

As we rode the elevator and walked the length of several hallways, I was still hearing the mental echoes of how hard we’d laughed the night before. We’d stop and then Nana Mama would say something else, and we’d yell, “Write that one down!”

I couldn’t remember having that much fun at dinner in a long time. It was all Ali had talked about that morning at breakfast before school. He was going to write down at least thirty good Nana-isms before he “launched the hashtag.”

“You get the feeling the mountain-biking bug might be over?” Bree asked now.

“I was thinking the same thing. Especially after he said he was skipping tonight’s Wild Wheels ride to work on Nana Mama’s social media presence.”

Sampson laughed. “The kid does jump from one thing to the next.”

“He’s exploring,” I said. “It’s what kids do.”

Ned Mahoney stepped out of a doorway near the end of the hall. He gestured at me, said, “Alex, you were his target, so you are observing today. If you have something you want asked, we’ll hear you over the earbuds. Chief Stone?”

Bree straightened her shoulders, glanced at me with mock pity, then followed Mahoney inside. John and I went into the observation booth with Special Agent Kim Tillis, who had just arrived.

On the other side of the one-way mirror, William Nolan had his left wrist cuffed to his chair and his right arm in a sling. He was hunched over and looked miserable. I was surprised to see Sandra Wendover, the same federal public defender who’d worked on Martin Forbes’s case, sitting beside him.

“Hey, c’mon,” Nolan said as Bree and Ned took chairs. “I’m dying here.”

“You’re not dying, Mr. Nolan,” Mahoney said.

“I’m in serious pain,” he insisted in a hoarse whine.

Wendover said, “My client has three broken ribs, a blown ACL in his right knee, and a separated shoulder. That could be construed as brutality.”

Mahoney snorted. “Except your client jumped off a roof into a tree and then took off trying to elude federal officers who were forced to subdue him.”

“Who cares?” Nolan said, irritated. “Because I know for a fact I’ve done nothing wrong. A misdemeanor, maybe. But not something you go away for.” Mahoney said, “Well, Mr. Jailhouse Lawyer, here’s a news flash for you: We are holding you as the prime suspect in a federal kidnapping-and-mass-murder investigation.”

That got Nolan’s attention in a big way. He rocked back in his chair, eyes big as sand dollars, then he winced and said, “Whoa! Whoa! What are you talking about?”

Wendover said, “Wait — he’s involved in Martin Forbes’s case?”

“He is.”

“Then I must recuse, and I advise my client to stay silent until federal defenders can send over another lawyer to