I, Alex Cross

out the door last night? Telling me it was all good. See, I could have sworn it was you."
    "Now, don’t get defensive on me, Alex." She sat up a little straighter and cricked her neck, massaging it on one side. "I’m just saying, the children don’t always care
why
you’re gone, Alex. They just know that you are. Especially little Damon."
    "You mean Ali."
    "That’s what I said, isn’t it? The boy’s only six, after all."
    I leaned in for a better look at her. "How much sleep did you get last night?"
    She made her
pssh
sound. "Old people don’t need sleep. It’s one of the secret advantages. Reason I can still whip you in a debate. Now, help me up and I’ll start some coffee. You look like you could use it."
    I had a hand on her elbow and she was halfway up, when she stopped suddenly and sagged a little.
    "What is it?" I asked.
    "Nothing. I just, um…"
    At first she looked confused. Then all at once, her face creased with pain and she doubled over in my arms. Before I could even get her back down again, she’d passed out.
    Oh God, no.
    Her small body was like nothing to hold in my arms. I laid her gently on the love seat and felt for a pulse at her neck.
There was none.
    "Nana? Can you hear me? Nana?"
    My heart was flying now. The doctors at St. Anthony’s had told me the signs to look for — no movement, no breath, and she just lay there, horribly still.
    Nana was in cardiac arrest.

Chapter 48

    IT WAS ANOTHER nightmare — the EMTs in the house, the blur of the ambulance ride, questions at the emergency room. Then the terrible waiting.
    I stayed with Nana all day and all night at St. Anthony’s. She’d survived the heart attack, which was about as much as anyone would say for now.
    They had her on a ventilator to help her breathe, with a tube taped over her mouth. There was a clip on her finger to measure her oxygen level, and an IV to keep the medications coming. More wires ran from Nana’s chest to a heart monitor by the bed, its pulsing lines like some kind of electronic vigil. I hated that screen and relied on it at the same time.
    Friends and relatives came and went all day and into the evening. Aunt Tia was there with some of my cousins, and then Sampson and Billie. Bree brought the kids, but they weren’t allowed in, which was just as well. They’d seen more than enough at home when the ambulance had come and taken Nana away again.
    And then there were the "necessary" conversations. Different staff members wanted to talk to me about the DNR order in her file, about options regarding hospice, about religious affiliation, all
just in case
. Just in case what — Nana never woke up?
    No one tried to chase me out after visiting hours, as if they could, but I appreciated the consideration. I sat with my forearms on the edge of the bed, sometimes to rest my head, other times to pray for Nana.
    Then, sometime in the middle of the night, she finally stirred. Her hand moved under the blanket, and it was like all those prayers of ours were answered in that one small motion.
    And then another tiny motion — and her eyes slowly opened.
    The nurses had said that I should stay calm and speak quietly if that happened. For the record, it was no easy feat.
    I reached up and put a hand on her cheek until she seemed to know I was there.
    "Nana, don’t try to say anything right now. Don’t try to argue either. There’s a tube in your throat to help you breathe."
    Her eyes started moving around, taking it all in, staring at my face.
    "You collapsed at home. Remember?"
    She nodded, but just barely. I think she smiled too, which felt huge.
    "I’m going to ring for the nurse and see how soon we can get you off this machine," I said. "Okay?" I reached for the call button, but when I looked back, her eyes had closed again. I had to check the monitor just to reassure myself she was only sleeping.
    All the yellow, blue, and green lines were doing their thing, just fine.
    "Okay, tomorrow morning, then," I said, not because she could hear me but because I needed to say something.
    I only hoped there would be a tomorrow morning.

Chapter 49

    NANA WAS WIDE awake and off the ventilator by noon the following day. Her heart was enlarged and she was too weak to leave intensive care, but there was good reason to believe she’d be coming home again. I celebrated by sneaking the kids into the room for the quickest, quietest Cross family party ever.
    The other hopeful news was on the work front. An FBI lawyer named Lynda