Ali Cross 01 - Ali Cross

by Patterson, James

  “I was here a couple weeks ago,” I said, just rolling with it. “And I just wanted to come over and say I was sorry for bothering Mr. Qualls that day.”

  “Well, he’s not here right now,” she told me. “So don’t you worry about it. The truth is, Gabe doesn’t have a lot of friends. It’s sweet of you to stop by.”

  So maybe I couldn’t interview Mr. Qualls, but I still had an opportunity to get something done here.

  “Is there any chance I could see Gabe’s room?” I asked. “I know that might sound weird, but—”

  “Oh, honey, of course,” she said. I could tell she thought I wanted to see it to help me feel better, not because I was investigating anything. But I wasn’t going to spell it out for her.

  “Thanks,” I said, as she opened the door wider. “I really appreciate this.”

  I gave Cedric one last look over my shoulder. He was standing there eating a Kudos bar and looking confused, but I just kept moving.

  The inside of the house was as depressing as the outside. The curtains were closed and a couple of big candles were burning. It smelled like cinnamon and cigarette smoke in there. A big glass ashtray was overflowing with butts on the coffee table, and someone had punched a hole in the wall at some point. I was pretty sure I knew who, too.

  I tried to take it all in like a detective and not get too sucked into anything else about it.

  “Have you heard anything from the police?” I asked, as casually as I could. “Any new word about Gabe, or whatever else?”

  Mrs. Qualls shook her head, but just barely, like it hurt to think about it. “Not a word,” she said. I felt really sorry for her. She was obviously feeling low, and she didn’t have to let me in like this.

  “You can throw your coat right there, if you like,” she said, pointing at a chair by the door. It was pretty hot and stuffy in there, so I took her up on that and then followed her up some narrow stairs to the second floor.

  Gabe’s bedroom door had a big Fuse ODG sticker on it, and the knob had been broken off at some point. The room itself was really small. It had one little window looking out to 17th Street, and I could see Cedric pacing around outside. He looked up just then, and gave me a look, like, What the heck, bro? But it wasn’t like I was going to start sending him hand signals, so I turned away.

  The bed took up most of the room, but there was also a TV on the floor and a wire rack with some clothes piled on it. There wasn’t a closet or dresser. No books. Not much of anything else, really, unless you counted all the Outpost screen captures he’d printed out and tacked up on the wood paneling—more of his own virtual inventions and other stuff he’d built in the game.

  “Is there any chance I could get onto Gabe’s PlayStation for a minute?” I asked. I wanted to see if it told me when he’d last used it, or anything else.

  “Oh, that’s gone,” she said, and pointed at the space on the floor next to the TV. “It’s the one thing Gabriel took with him.”

  “He did?” I asked, while my thoughts went flying all over again. That explained what had been weighing down Gabe’s backpack that day. So he’d been planning to leave home since at least the morning, when he packed it up, but he never said a word about it that day. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he took his PS4 with him. Gabe loved that thing more than anything else.

  Still, he had to have it hooked up somewhere. That meant electricity, and internet. He couldn’t just be squatting in some deserted building, even though that’s what I’d been imagining.

  This also meant that his parents knew from the start that Gabe had run off on purpose, and that he hadn’t been kidnapped, or whatever else. In which case, Detective Sutter would have known it, too. It wasn’t like I’d expected Sutter to tell me everything she knew, but it did make me wonder what else they hadn’t shared. I guess we all had our own secrets.

  I was back over by the window now, and I stole another quick look at Cedric. Except this time, I could see something was wrong. He was still standing on the sidewalk across the street, looking agitated, but when he saw me, it kicked up a notch. He was mouthing something and pointing really hard back my way, toward the front of Gabe’s house.

  For a second, I was like, huh? But only until I looked down and saw Mr. Qualls! Already, he was coming up the front steps. And even though he was the person I’d been hoping to speak with that morning, something in my gut told me that Mr. Qualls wasn’t going to like finding me already inside, much less in his son’s room, poking around.

  And it turns out, I was absolutely right about that.

  “HELLO?” MR. QUALLS called out. “Whose jacket is this?”

  “We’re up here,” Mrs. Qualls said, just before I heard feet on the stairs.

  All of a sudden, I got a fresh whiff of cigarette smoke, and then Mr. Qualls was there. He stood in the door, blocking my way out, holding a cigarette between his lips and staring at me like I didn’t belong.

  “What’s going on in here?” he asked.

  “This is Gabe’s friend,” Mrs. Qualls said.

  “That so?” he asked, like he didn’t believe her. Or maybe more like, he didn’t believe me.

  Suddenly, this whole visit seemed like a really bad idea. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I just wanted to get out. It wasn’t like Cedric was going to come crashing in to give me some backup, as much as I wished he would. Besides, Mr. Qualls was more than big enough to deal with both of us. I should have thought of that, too.

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect,” I said. “I just came to—”

  “Did I or did I not tell you to go home the last time, boy?” Mr. Qualls asked. “Who you think you are, barging in here? I know what you’re trying to do, and I won’t have it.”

  “Dante, take it easy,” Mrs. Qualls said, but he wasn’t listening to her.

  “Nah,” he said, right at me. “I’ve had just about enough of you. This is my home. My rules. You hear?”

  I couldn’t look away from Mr. Qualls, but I badly wanted to signal to Cedric to help me out. I wouldn’t have minded taking a quick exit out that window, either. But no chance there.

  Mr. Qualls came right at me, took me by the arm, and basically dragged me out of the room. I had to step quick to keep from tripping, including on the stairs.

  A second later, he was throwing open the door and shoving me outside. I stumbled down the front steps.

  “Yo! Leave him alone!” Cedric said. He was coming over now.

  “Don’t make me do something I’m gonna regret,” Mr. Qualls said, pointing a finger right at me from the door.

  “For god’s sake, Dante, give the boy his coat.” Mrs. Qualls was there now, too, holding it out for me. Mr. Qualls snatched it off of her and threw it down the steps.

  “We’re done here,” he said. “You got me?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, either. He slammed the door, and just like that, it was over.

  Cedric was right there now, handing me my coat off the ground. “You okay?” he asked, while we moved away from the house. I wasn’t going to run. I didn’t want to give Mr. Qualls the satisfaction, even if I was shaking all over.

  And I was wondering, more than ever, just what Gabe’s dad might be hiding. Because as dumb as my own moves might have been that day, I was more convinced than ever that he was making a few mistakes of his own.

  Something was definitely up with that guy. I didn’t know what it was, but I still intended to find out.

  IT WAS EARLY Sunday morning when Alex Cross got another text from Detective Olayinka.

  OLAYINKA: Hey Alex. You awake?

  CROSS: Yeah, what’s up?

  OLAYINKA: Another robbery in your neighborhood. Two of them, actually, sometime in the last 24 hours. But I need to talk to you about one in particular.

  CROSS: Sure. Any details?

  OLAYINKA: Best to talk in person if that’s okay. We’re just around the corner from you, on Ellen Wilson Place. Can’t miss us.

  OLAYINKA: You free ri
ght now?

  Alex was glad to be included in anything to do with this case. But Olayinka’s air of urgent mystery, or whatever this was, didn’t sit well. What could Isaac have to say that couldn’t go in a text or be told in a phone call?

  There was one quick way to find out, anyway.

  The house Olayinka had mentioned was even closer than the last robbery on 4th Street. Alex walked around the block to 6th, then cut in on Ellen Wilson Place, a small alley of a side street with some surprisingly well-to-do homes along its narrow passage.

  He found the detective waiting for him outside, while several other personnel came and went through the front door of a three-story brick house, lit up on all levels from the inside.

  “What’s going on?” Alex asked. It seemed odd for the lead detective to station himself out there. Something had changed, Alex thought. He could feel it on a gut level. And the last thing he needed that morning was one more complication.

  “I’m sorry to pull a move on you,” Olayinka said. “But I just wanted to show you this first, off the record, before it goes in for evidence. We found it on the back steps, where someone jimmied the door.”

  Olayinka pulled a small, clear evidence baggie from his puffy down coat pocket and held it out to show. It looked like the bag held a credit card, or ID of some kind.

  “What is it?” Alex asked. “And why do I think I’m not going to like this?”

  “Just take a look,” Olayinka told him, handing over the sealed evidence.

  As Alex peered closer, he saw it was in fact a student ID card from Washington Latin Middle School. The sight of it sent his pulse spiking, even before he’d turned the card over. And there on the front was Ali’s name and picture. If he hadn’t been staring at it himself, Alex might not have believed what he was seeing.

  “This has to be some kind of mistake,” he said.

  “I’m hoping so, too,” Olayinka answered, taking the evidence and sliding it back into his pocket. “But I just wanted you to know, we’re going to have to consider this one very seriously. And we’re going to want to talk to your son.”

  DAD WAS SHAKING me awake, again. It was Sunday morning, and I was wondering if we were going out to breakfast like the last time.

  “What’s up?” I asked. “We going somewhere? ’Cause I’m starving.”

  “Where were you yesterday afternoon?” Dad asked. And the way he asked it, I knew in less than a second that something bad had happened.

  “How come?” I asked, but he only looked back at me. The ball was in my court to answer, and we both knew it. “I was hanging out with Cedric,” I said.

  “Are you sure about that?” Dad asked. “And will Cedric be sure about it when the police ask him?”

  I was awake now. Wide awake.

  “Dad, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Detective Olayinka wants to speak with you,” he said. “They found your school ID at the site of another robbery. One that could have happened anytime in the last twenty-four hours.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was like it didn’t even make sense.

  “But… I have my ID,” I said. “It’s in my coat pocket.”

  “Let’s see,” Dad asked.

  I was up in a second, and ran down the stairs to the hooks by the front door. I reached into the right pocket of my coat, where I always kept my ID and my house key. But all I found there was the key.

  I tried the left pocket after that, but it was empty. Same thing for every other pocket in that coat, and the more I checked, the bigger that pit in my stomach started to get.

  Dad was watching me from the bottom of the stairs. “Nothing?” he asked.

  “It must have dropped out,” I said, and at the same second, I realized where it must have dropped out. Back at the Qualls’s house. Which meant I had a whole lot of explaining to do. A lot of coming clean, too. It was like everything I’d been building up all this time was about to come crashing down, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it anymore.

  “We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Dad said.

  “I didn’t break into any houses, I swear!” I cried. I was trying not to panic, but it felt like I was running away from an avalanche.

  “If that’s what you say, then I believe you,” Dad told me. “But something tells me there’s more to the story here.”

  I felt like I’d just stumbled into a brand-new nightmare. And as impossible as it seemed, it was also clear to me what was going down here.

  Mr. Qualls was trying to frame me for robbery.

  INSTEAD OF GOING back to Youth Services like the last time, Dad took me to the Daly Building on Indiana Avenue. That’s police headquarters in Washington, where Detective Olayinka worked, and where Dad’s office was, too.

  The lobby of that building is this huge, high-ceilinged place that echoes as you walk through. It always feels like something out of Gotham City to me. I could see Batman facing down the Joker in a place like that.

  But not us. We had a different kind of face-off. With the press. I guess they always hung out there, looking for a story. So they moved in on Dad as soon as we came through the revolving doors. Not because they were expecting us, but because Dad’s trial was starting the next day.

  “Detective Cross! How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

  “Have you apologized to the Yang family, Alex?”

  “Alex, over here! Just a few questions!”

  I already felt bad, dragging Dad down there. But now I felt even worse. The last thing he wanted that day was a face full of reporters.

  “Hey, Ali!” one of them called out while we moved toward the security station. “What are you doing here with your father?”

  Dad put a hand on my shoulder. I knew what it meant, too. Just keep moving. But he didn’t have to worry about me this time. I’d learned my lesson the hard way, and I knew these people weren’t asking real questions. They just wanted something that would make people click on their stories or buy their papers.

  Besides, I had way bigger things to worry about right now.

  “No comment,” I said to all those reporters.

  Some people laughed, like it was funny for a kid to say that. But I didn’t care. Dad gave me a proud-of-you squeeze and steered us toward the metal detectors.

  The press wasn’t allowed past security, but they kept calling out questions while I emptied my pockets into a white plastic bowl and put it on a conveyor belt. Then I stepped through the scanner and waited for Dad to do the same thing.

  “Detective Cross?”

  “Any last words for us, Alex?”

  “Alex, over here!”

  Neither one of us said a word. Not until we were on the elevator and heading up to the fourth floor. Then Dad kind of leaned into me, the way he does when he’s trying to cheer me up.

  “Good job,” he said. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you.”

  “Easier than you think,” I told him.

  Because the fact was, the hard part was just ahead of me, not behind.

  THE NEXT SURPRISE was seeing Detective Sutter in the fourth-floor bull pen when we got there. She was waiting for us along with Detective Olayinka, and it only took me a second to realize that this was actually good news. If Sutter and Olayinka were both interested in these robberies, that meant I was right about Gabe having something to do with it.

  It also meant twice the law enforcement out there looking for my friend.

  But meanwhile, I had some hot water to get out of. Technically, and maybe officially, I was a suspect now.

  They brought us into one of those little interview rooms, just like the last time at Youth Services. The only difference was that the red light on the ceiling camera was lit. Which felt extra weird. If they were recording this meeting, did that mean someone was going to watch it later and analyze my answers? And did that mean I had to be even more careful about what I said?

  Sure, no pressure.

  “Are you guys working together on the Gabe Qualls ca
se?” I asked once we sat down.

  Sutter and Olayinka looked at each other. They didn’t say anything, but I could see the yes in their expressions.

  “Ali, we’re going to keep it focused this time,” Detective Sutter said. “We won’t be answering any questions for you today.”

  My knee was bouncing like crazy, and Dad put a hand on it under the table to stop me. I was nervous, for sure. Not just about what they were going to ask, but also about everything I knew I had to tell them now.

  Olayinka went first. “So, how do you think your school ID got to the back steps of that house?”

  “I can’t prove anything,” I said, “but if you ask me, Mr. Qualls put it there. That guy is shady, with a capital S.”

  “And what makes you say that?” Olayinka asked.

  “Well…”

  Here it went. I hadn’t even told Dad the story yet. I hadn’t had the nerve to bring it up in the car, and I knew he was going to find out about it soon enough. Like right now. I told them about the laptop, and the conversation I’d had with Gabe inside his bunker, in Outpost. Then I told them about what happened when I went to the Qualls’s house, and how Mr. Qualls threw my coat out the door like he had.

  “He either stole my ID out of my pocket, or it fell out when he threw the coat,” I said. “Either way, he’s the only person who had a chance of getting it off of me.”

  Olayinka sat back and gave me a look that I didn’t like so much.

  “That’s quite a big story, on the same day you’ve been implicated in this,” he said. “Why didn’t you come forward as soon as you spoke with Gabe?”

  “Because Gabe asked me not to,” I said.

  It was like someone had just turned up the heat in that little room. The back of my neck was itchy, and my knee was going again. Did they think I was trying to lie my way out of this?

  “I wanted to protect him,” I kept going. “But I was also trying to figure out what I was protecting him from. That’s why I was investigating his dad. Mr. Qualls has something to do with this. I just don’t know what it is yet.”