Television and radio vans were everywhere. Their satellite towers extended into the airlike huge sculptures. As we got closer, I spotted CNN, KTLA, KYSR Star 98.7,Entertainment Tonight. Some of the reporters stood facing cameras with their backs tothe estate, presumably reporting live on the L.A. and network shows. What a circus. Sowhy do I have to be here, too? I'm supposed to be at Disneyland, a kinder, gentler circus.
None of the media people recognized me, a refreshing change from D.C. Agent Page andI politely made our way through the crowd to where two uniformed police officers stoodguard. They looked carefully at our creds.
“This is Dr. Alex Cross,” said Page.
“So?” said the uniform.
I didn't say a word. “So?” seemed like an appropriate response to me.
The uniform finally let us pass, but not before I noticed something that made me a littlesick to my stomach. James Truscott, with his cascading red hair, was standing there in thecrowd of reporters. So was his cameraperson - the same woman, dressed all in black.
Truscott saw me, too, and nodded my way A smile may have even crossed his lips.
He was taking notes.
She was taking photographs - of me.
Mary, Mary
Chapter 13
I WAS CURSING SOFTLY as Page and I followed a long, circular white-pebbleddriveway up to the main house. Mansion was definitely a better word for this place, atwo-story, Spanish-style construction. Dense foliage on all sides blocked my view pastthe facade, but the main house had to be at least twenty thousand square feet, probablyeven more. Who needed this much space to live? Our house in D.C. was under threethousand, and that was plenty of room for us.