Page 65 of Alex Cross Must Die

Grey led the way to the side of a thick hedge edging the mansion property. Holmes looked up and down the street, still wet from the weekend rain. The puddles swirled with kaleidoscope colors. He heard Poe’s voice again.

“What now?” his partner asked.

“We wait,” Grey replied. “It’s their show.”

As Holmes watched, a small group of shadows emerged from the hedge on the opposite side of the property and moved up to the front door. One of the shadows held a long, thick metal object, stockier than a rifle. It looked like a log with handles.

The figure at the head of the right-hand column pounded on the door.

“NYPD! We have a warrant!”

The cop leaned back. Holmes could see his fingers in profile against the bricks, counting down the time.

Five … four … three …

“We’re going in right behind them,” said Grey. “Stay tight and keep out of their way.”

BAM!

Holmes saw light pouring onto the porch from the place the door used to be. He heard footsteps pounding on the grass. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was alone by the hedge. Grey, Poe, and Marple were already moving across the lawn. Holmes ran to catch up, blinking beads of sweat out of his eyes. The pleasant swirls of color were gone now. He stared at the mansion. Even in his altered state, he knew Poe was right about this place. It radiated evil.

CHAPTER 70

MARPLE RAN TOWARDthe porch behind Grey and Poe.

She looked back.Where the hell is Brendan?

There he was, coming out of the shadows. Marple reached back, grabbed his vest, and pulled him forward. “Keep up, Brendan! Keep it together!”

Marple stayed close behind Poe as they moved up the porch stairs. She heard the sounds of heavy boots and loud shouts from inside as the SWAT teams moved from room to room.

“Clear!” … “Clear!” … “Clear!”

As Marple stepped into the vestibule, she could hear loud footsteps and slamming doors from the floor above.

When she looked around, her two partners were off in different directions. Poe, wearing blue surgical gloves, was in the dining room to the left, nudging SWAT officers aside as he tapped his knuckles against the walls. Holmes was in the library just off the entryway, pulling books off shelves and running his gloved hands along the back panels, as if searching for some secret button. His helmet was resting upside down on a coffee table.

Suddenly, he turned to grab on to a large wing-backed chair, then slumped heavily into the seat. His face was pale, his eyes hollow.

No!thought Marple.Not here. Not now.

Holmes sat up abruptly. Then his head started to nod. The weight of the armored vest seemed to pull him forward. Suddenly, he was tipping, unstoppable, toward the floor.

“Brendan!”

Marple lunged toward him. Too late. Holmes landed hard. His head bounced from the impact. Out of the corner of her eye, Marple saw Grey spin and sprint across the room. In seconds, they were both kneeling next to Holmes, rolling him onto his back. Grey shook him by the shoulders. “Holmes!Holmes!”

His body was limp, his pupils as small as pinholes. There was a reddish bruise forming on his forehead.

Grey shouted toward the entryway.“Medic!”

“It’s okay,” Marple said firmly. “I’ve got it.”

She reached into the cross-body bag she wore and pulled out a bottle of Narcan.

CHAPTER 71

“CAN YOU TELLme your name?”

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