Alex Cross joins forces with a female San Francisco detective to investigate a pattern of murders occurring across the country that draws him into the bizarre subculture of ritual role-playing and vampirism.
Violets Are Blue
By James PattersonWarner Adult
Copyright © 2001 James Patterson
All right reserved.ISBN: 9781586211974
Chapter One
WITHOUT ANY WARNING
NOTHING EVER STARTS where we think it does. So of course this doesn't begin withthe vicious and cowardly murder of an FBI agent and good friend named BetseyCavalierre. I only thought that it did. My mistake, and a really big and painfulone.
I arrived at Betsey's house in Woodbridge, Virginia, in the middle of the night.I'd never been there before, but I didn't have any trouble finding it. The FBIand EMS were already there. There were flashing red and yellow lightseverywhere, seeming to paint the lawn and front porch with bright, dangerousstreaks.
I took a deep breath and walked inside. My sense of balance was off. I wasreeling. I acknowledged a tall blond FBI agent I knew named Sandy Hammonds. Icould see that Sandy had been crying. She was a friend of Betsey's.
On a hallway table I saw Betsey's service revolver. Beside it was a printedreminder for her next shooting qualifier at the FBI range. The irony stung.
I forced myself to walk down a long hallway that led from the living room to theback of the house. The house looked to be close to a hundred years old and wasfilled with the kind of country clutter that she'd loved. The master bedroom wassituated at the end of the hall.
I knew instantly that the murder had happened in there. The FBI techs and thelocal police were swarming around the open door like angry wasps near athreatened hive. The house was strangely, eerily quiet. This was as bad as itgets, worse than anything else. Ever.
Another one of my partners was dead.
The second one brutally murdered in two years. And Betsey had been much morethan just a partner. How could this have happened? What did it mean? I sawBetsey's small body sprawled on the hardwood floor and I went cold. My hand flewto my face, a reflex I had no control over.
The killer had stripped off her nightclothes. I didn't see them anywhere in thebedroom. The lower body was coated with blood. He'd used a knife. He'd punishedBetsey with it. I desperately wanted to cover her, but I knew I couldn't.
Betsey's brown eyes were staring up at me, but they saw nothing. I rememberedkissing those eyes and that sweet face. I remembered Betsey's laugh,high-pitched and musical. I stood there for a long time, mourning Betsey,missing her terribly. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't. I just couldn't leaveher like this.
As I stood there in the bedroom, trying to figure out something coherent aboutBetsey's murder, the cell phone in my jacket pocket went off. I jumped. Igrabbed it, but then I hesitated. I didn't want to answer.
"Alex Cross," I finally spoke into the receiver.
I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right through me. I shudderedagainst my will.
"I know who this is and I even know where you are. At poor, dear,butchered Betsey's. Do you feel a little bit like a puppet on a string,Detective? You should," said the Mastermind. "Because that's what you are.You're my favorite puppet, in fact."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked the monster. "You didn't have to do this."
He laughed a mechanical laugh and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up."You ought to be able to figure that out, no? You're the famous Detective AlexCross. You have all those big, important cases notched on your belt. You caughtGary Soneji, Casanova. You solved Jack and Jill. Christ, you're impressive."
I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after me right now? How abouttonight? As you say, you know where I am."
The Mastermind laughed again, quietly, almost under his breath. "How about Ikill your grandmother and your three kids tonight? I know where they aretoo. You left your partner with them, didn't you? You think he can stop me? JohnSampson doesn't have a chance against me."
I hung up and ran out of the house in Woodbridge. I called Sampson in Washingtonand he picked up on the second ring.
"Everything okay there?" I gasped. "Everything's fine, Alex. No problems here.You don't sound too good, though. What's up? What happened?"
"He said he's coming for you and Nana and the kids," I told John. "TheMastermind."
"Not going to happen, sugar. Nobody will get past me. I hope to hell he tries."
"Be careful, John. I'm on my way back to Washington right now. Please becareful. He's crazy. He didn't just kill Betsey, he defiled her."
I ended the call with Sampson and I sprinted full-out toward my old Porsche.
The cell phone rang again before I got to the car.
"Cross," I answered, still running as I spoke, trying to steady the phoneagainst my chin and ear.
It was him again. He was laughing maniacally. "You can relax, Dr. Cross. I canhear your labored breathing. I'm not going to hurt them tonight. I was justfucking with you. Having some fun at your expense.
"You're running, aren't you? Keep running, Dr. Cross. But you won't be fastenough. You can't get away from me. It's you I want. You're next, Dr. Cross."
Continues...
Excerpted from Violets Are Blueby James Patterson Copyright © 2001 by James Patterson. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
