Double Cross

firsthand, go through whatever he’d left there.
    As I was leaving my building, I nearly bumped into Sandy Quinlan. She was standing outside the front door on the sidewalk. Sandy was dressed all in black, covered with sweat, and out of breath.
    “Sandy, what’s going on?” I asked, trying to keep my composure. “Where were you today?”
    “Oh, Dr. Cross. I was afraid I’d miss you. I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She squinted up at me and motioned me over to the curb. “I had to come tell you . . . I’m leaving.”
    “Leaving?” I asked.
    “Going back to Michigan. I don’t belong here in Washington, and frankly I came for the wrong reason. I mean, even if I did meet someone, what’s the point if I hate the city, right?”
    “Sandy, can we schedule one more appointment before you go? First thing on Monday?” I asked. “I’m traveling, or I’d see you over the weekend.”
    She smiled, looking as confident as I’d ever seen her. Then she shook her head. “I just came to say good-bye, Dr. Cross. My mind’s all made up. I know what I have to do.”
    “Well, all right, then,” I told Sandy. I put out my hand, but she opened her arms and hugged me instead. Strange, forced, almost theatrical, it seemed to me.
    “I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispered against my shoulder. “I wish I’d met you somewhere else. Not as my therapist.”
    Then Sandy went up on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss on the lips. Her eyes flew wide; I think mine did too, and she blushed. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she gushed like a teenage girl.
    “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything,” I said. I could have been angry, but what was the point? She was going back to Michigan, and maybe that was for the best.
    After a short, awkward silence, Sandy pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “Walk me to my car?”
    “I’m parked the other way,” I told her.
    Her head tilted coyly. “Walk you to your car, then?”
    I laughed and took it as a compliment. “Good-bye, Sandy. And good luck in Michigan.”
    She finger-waved, then gave me a little wink. “Good luck to you, Dr. Cross.”

Chapter 107

    AT THAT MOMENT, DCAK was playing another part, that of Detective James Corning, who put down his surveillance camera and stared out his car window, like, well, any dumb-ass cop would. He had just snapped a pic of Alex Cross kissing his patient Sandy Quinlan, which, of course, wasn’t her real name. Sandy Quinlan was just another role to play. Like Anthony Demao. And Detective James Corning.
    Corning had made it his business to keep tabs on Cross and Bree Stone all week. Getting too close wasn’t wise, but their basic comings and goings were easy enough to track.
    Now he followed Cross to a parking lot near his office and then to Bree Stone’s apartment building on Eighteenth.
    The two of them left together about ten minutes later. Stone was carrying an overnight bag, traveling light, something few women seemed capable of doing. James Corning stayed on them until it was obvious to him that they were headed for Reagan National.
Well, well
. He wasn’t all that surprised, actually.
    At the entrance to the airport parking garage, he got in behind them again. Cross found a space on level three, and Corning kept going up. He parked on four and caught up with Cross and Stone again on the skyway to the terminal.
    James Corning stayed back in the pack to avoid any chance of being spotted.
    They checked in at American Airlines, so the departure board narrowed things for him.
Denver was the logical choice
. He waited for them to go down the escalator to security, then circled back to the ticketing area.
    He held up his badge for the next customer in line. “Excuse me, just take a second here. Police business.”
    Then he showed his creds to the American Airlines agent at the counter. “I’m Detective Corning, MPD. I need a little information on two passengers you just checked in. Stone and Cross?”
    After he got the information he needed, James Corning stopped and bought a doughnut, which he had no intention of eating. It was all part of his plan, though. An important prop. Fun one too. He headed back to the parking garage.
    On three, he stopped at Cross’s car. He put a brand-new cell phone in with the doughnut, folded the bag over, and duct-taped it to the bottom of the driver’s door seam. It was just out of sight for anyone passing by but surely wouldn’t be missed when Cross and Stone came