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She drew back her hood.
“Wrong?” Bree asked in a whisper. “When I left the house, Nana was crying her eyes out, sure that you were going to die on Christmas Eve.”
My stomach churned. “Look, I’m fine. You can see for yourself. I’ll call her.”
“She’s gone to bed.”
“Which is where you should also be.”
“Do you think I could possibly sleep, Alex?”
I sighed. “Bree, you of all people know how this works.”
“I know how it works for you,” she said. “I can say no to the job but you can’t, Alex. That’s not good for you or your family. Especially at Christmas.”
“Sometimes you can’t say no, even if it is Christmas,” I said. “Sometimes you have a lunatic meth head who decides that the holiday is a perfect time for him to take his ex-wife, their three kids, and her new husband hostage.”
Bree hugged herself, looked away, and said, “You have a family who all feel like other families in a crisis come first for you.”
“That’s not fair, Bree.”
“Maybe not,” she said, looking back at me. “But I thought it was important that you know that your children think that.”
My head felt heavy. So did my chest. I said, “I am sad beyond words to hear that, Bree. And there is nothing I want more at this moment than to go home right now and then get up in the morning tomorrow and unwrap presents. But I honestly don’t know how I’d live with myself if I did that and then heard that this guy murdered his entire family when I might have been able to prevent it.”
Bree gazed at me; she reached up and touched my cheek with her chilled fingers. “You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I just want you to remember that there are consequences to everything.”
I nodded, wondering if our relationship was starting to suffer the consequences of me being me. “I love you,” I said. “And I have to go back to work so I have a chance of being with my family on Christmas morning.”
My wife’s eyes were filled with a mixture of understanding and resignation. She touched my cheek again. Then she turned away and left the shelter. I went out into the storm and called after her, “Be careful driving.”
She called back over her shoulder, “I’ll pray for you, Alex. It’s all I can do.”
CHAPTER
13
BREE KEPT WALKING AND DISAPPEARED BEHIND THE POLICE BARRIER INTO THE storm. I stood there, staring after her, my mind whirling with thoughts of my family.
What was I doing? Ramiro and Nu and McGoey were all first-rate at their jobs. The deputy chief had called me in part, I guessed, as a way to calm down the congressman. But did I really have to be present? Couldn’t I leave this situation in their capable hands and follow Bree home?
“Alex!” McGoey called.
I turned, squinted into the wind and the snow, and saw him standing at the flaps of the tent.
“It’s Fowler,” he said. “He picked up. He wants to talk to you.”
“Me?” I replied, already moving toward him, already compartmentalizing.
“He didn’t ask for you exactly,” McGoey said. “Just anyone but Ramiro.”
I walked through the shelter, brushing the snow off my hat and jacket, and climbed into the van, trying to fully move on from my conversation with Bree. I had to completely divorce myself from the sadness and anxiety she’d stirred in me. If I didn’t, I’d be in no condition to negotiate with a madman.
Ramiro handed me his phone.
“Henry Fowler?” I said.
He coughed. “Who’s this?”
