CHAPTER 107 Cross
Cross
IT TAKES BOTH ALEX and Damon using all their strength to push the metal hatch open. They manage it on the fourth try. When they emerge into the stinking pigsty above, Alex Cross can see flashlights approaching Brophy’s front gate. Lots of them.
He found his phone in Brophy’s pocket, and his call obviously got some attention.
Alex hurries across the yard to the main house and pulls the switch to cut power to the fence.
“All clear!” he shouts.
He sees a flash of gunfire and metal sparks as somebody shoots the lock apart.
When the gate swings open, a dozen cops in tac gear pour through under the moonlight. Probably the entire Chapel Hill police force.
Alex hurries back to Damon in the middle of the yard. “Put your hands up and stand still,” he says. He knows how trigger-happy cops can get. This is no time for mistakes.
Then he hears a familiar voice. “Hold your fire! Eyes on the hostages!”
It’s Gail Bailey. She’s the last one through the gate. No full tac, just a ballistic vest over a polo shirt and jeans. She shines a flashlight in Alex’s face. “You can put your hands down, Dr. Cross,” she calls.
Bailey walks across the farmyard. “You must be Damon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
Bailey turns to Alex. “Better-looking than his picture. Good manners too. I can see you raised him well.”
“Damon,” says Alex, “this is Detective Gail Bailey, Chapel Hill police. She’s been helping me look for you.”
“I’m sorry it took this long,” says Bailey. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Bailey turns back to Alex. “I appreciate your talking us through the minefield out there. I’ll get some ordnance experts out here in the morning to defuse the place.”
“Damon!” Melissa’s voice.
Alex turns as a couple of cops lift her out of the hatch.
She runs over to Damon and wraps herself around him.
A few seconds later, Lucas and Amy get pulled up.
A paramedic leads them over to the front porch.
Another paramedic walks up to Damon and Melissa, who are still clinging to each other. “Let’s get you guys checked out, okay?”
“We’re fine,” says Damon, hugging Melissa even tighter.
Alex taps Damon on the shoulder. “Go with the medics, son. They’re here to help.”
Damon keeps one arm tight around Melissa’s waist as they walk off.
“Detective!” one of the cops calls from the opening of the hatch.
Bailey walks over. Alex follows her.
They both look down into the pit. Colton Brophy is on the floor at the base of the ladder, squirming and cursing, his hands tied firmly behind his back with Alex’s belt.
Bailey looks at Alex. “You want to read him his rights?”
“No, thanks,” says Alex. “Your town, your collar.”
Bailey tells the cop, “Get a couple of our biggest guys and haul him up.”
“Copy that, Detective.”
When Bailey turns around, Alex catches her eye and looks up at the Confederate flag, lit from below by a floodlight, rippling against the night sky.
Bailey turns back to the cop and points to the flag. “But first, tear that damn thing down.”