Part 14 (1/2)

I had a crick in my lower back suddenly, and I stood to stretch. When I did, I happened to look down at the files; I saw the faded labels on the tabs, and felt my head retreat by several degrees.

The label of the file on top read Cross, Christina.

The one below it read Cross, Jason.

I picked up the file on my mother and was about to flip it open when Bree said in alarm, ”Alex, you can't just start going-”

”Oh, Jesus,” Pedelini said.

I looked up, saw the detective balancing a coffee mug and two cans of Mr. Pibb on a small tray. His skin had lost three shades of color.

”I am so sorry, Dr. Cross,” he said, chagrined. ”I ... I ran your name through our databases, and those files came up. So I ... requested them.”

”My name?” I said. ”What are these?”

Pedelini swallowed, set the tray down, and said, ”Old investigative files.”

”On what?” Bree said, standing to look.

The detective hesitated, and then said, ”Your mother's murder, Dr. Cross.”

At first I thought I'd misheard him. I squinted and said, ”You mean my mother's death?”

”I don't think so,” Pedelini replied. ”They were filed under homicide.”

”My mother died of cancer,” I said.

The detective looked puzzled. ”No, that's not right. The database says murder by asphyxiation, case eventually closed due to the death of chief suspect, who was shot trying to escape the police and fell into the gorge.”

In total shock, I said, ”Who was the chief suspect?”

”Your father, Dr. Cross. Didn't you know?”

Part Three

UNDERWORLD.

CHAPTER 31.

THREE HOURS LATER, Bree drove us back through the streets of Birney. The pain of reading those files was still raw, still searing.

Bree put her hand on mine, said, ”I can't imagine what you're going through right now, Alex. But I'm here for you, sugar. Any way you need me, I'm here for you.”

”Thank you. I ... this just changes everything, you know?”

”I know, baby,” Bree said, and she pulled up in front of the bungalow where the files said my dad had smothered my mother with a pillow.

I got out of the car feeling like I'd just been released from the hospital after a life-threatening illness, weak and unsure of my balance. I started toward the front porch with my mind playing tricks on me, seeing flashes of shattered, disjointed memories: my boyhood self running down the train tracks in the rain; watching my father being dragged by a rope; and, finally, staring at my mother's dead body in her bed, looking so frail, and small, and empty.

I don't remember falling, only that I hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me and set my world spinning.

”Alex?” Bree cried, rus.h.i.+ng to my side.

”I'm okay.” I gasped. ”Must have tripped or ... Where's Nana?”

”Probably inside,” Bree said.

”I need to talk to her,” I said.

”I know you do, but-”

”Dad!” Ali cried, pus.h.i.+ng open the screen door and jumping off the stoop.

”I'm okay, son,” I said, getting to my feet. ”Just haven't eaten enough.”

The door slammed again. Naomi came out, looking concerned.

”He got a little dizzy,” Bree explained.

”Where's Nana?” I asked.

”At Aunt Hattie's,” she said. ”They're making dinner.”

”I think you need to go inside and lie down, Alex,” Bree said.

”Not now,” I said, and I fixed on my aunt's house like it was a beacon in the night.

I took my tentative first steps still bewildered and seeking solace from my grandmother. But by the time I was on Hattie's porch, I was moving fast, angry and seeking answers.

I stormed inside. Aunt Hattie, Aunt Connie, and Uncle Cliff were in the kitchen. My aunts were dipping tilapia fillets in flour, getting them ready to fry, when I walked in and said, ”Where's Nana?”

”Right here,” she said.

My grandmother was tucked into a chair on my left, reading a book.