“That's okay with you, though? Makes sense? That's how the world should be?”

    “That's how the world be. Bam.”

    “So then”-I looked around the room and back at him-

    “why bother to sit here and talk to me about it? That doesn't make much sense to me.”

    “ 'Cause that bitch Lorraine fuckin' make me come.”

    I nodded. “Just because you come here doesn't mean you have to say anything. But you do. You talk to me. Why do you think that is?”

    He made a thing of getting all impatient. “You the witch doctor, you tell me.”

    “You envy kids like the one who died? Working for a living? Running around with guns?”

    He squinted at me, pulled the Lebron James Cleveland Cavaliers sweatband around his head a little lower. “Whad-dya mean?”

    “You know, are you jealous of them?”

    He smiled again, but only to himself. Then he slouched down on the couch and reached out with a toe to casually tip over the orange juice I'd given him. It spilled across the table between us. “Yo, they, got any Skittles in the machine downstairs? Go get me some Skittles!”

    I did no such thing. After the session, I escorted Pop-Pop out to his social worker and told the boy I'd see him on Friday. Then I went home and picked up Nana.

    We went to the Cox family funeral together. We held each other and cried with everybody else.

    I didn't care if people saw me cry anymore. I just didn't care. If they were friends, they would understand. If they weren't, what did it matter what they thought of me?

    That philosophy, to give credit where credit is due, was a Nana-ism.

Cross Country

Chapter 21

    “THIS IS DETECTIVE Alex Cross. I'm with the Metro police here in Washington. I need to speak with Ambassador Njoku or his representative. It's important, very important.”