The Hornet’s Nest. Patricia Cornwell

“I wish I could’ve grown up into some big-shot lawyer or doctor or banker or something,

so you’d know you were going to be taken care of.”

The, too,” Randy sadly agreed.

“But if you’re not too ashamed of us, we’ll at least be your best friends, okay?”

Hammer dissolved into tears. The three of them hugged as Seth’s heart slowed because it could not go on, or perhaps because some part of Seth Bridges knew it was okay for him

to leave just now. He coded at eleven minutes past eleven, and the cart and team could

bring him back no more.

Chapter Twenty-four.

West had missed the Sunset East exit deliberately. Retrieving Brazil’s BMW was not

what she intended to take care of first. It was quarter past eleven, and most of the world

sat in church and wished the minister would hurry up and end the sermon. West was

deep inside her preoccupations. She felt a terrible heaviness that she could not explain,

and she wanted to cry, which she blamed on the time of month, which, of course, had

passed.

“You all right?” Brazil felt her mood.

“I don’t know,” she said, depressed.

“You seem really down,” he said.

“It’s weird.” She checked her speed, glancing around for sneaky state troopers.

“It just hit me all of a sudden, this really bad feeling, as if something is horribly wrong.”

“That happens to me sometimes, too,” Brazil confessed.

“It’s like you pick up on something from somewhere, you know what I mean?”

She knew exactly what he meant, but not why she should know it. West had never

considered herself the most intuitive person in the world.

“I used to get that way about my mom a lot,” he went on.

“I would know before I walked in the house that she was not in good shape.”

“What about now?”

West was curious about all this, and not certain she knew what was happening to her.

She used to be very pragmatic and in control. Now she was picking up extraterrestrial

signals and discussing them with a twenty-two-year-old reporter she had just made out

with in a police car.

“My mother’s never in good shape now.” Brazil’s voice got hard.

“I

don’t want to sense much about her anymore. ”

“Well, let me tell you a word or two, Andy Brazil,” said West, who did know about some things in life.

“I don’t care if you’ve moved out of her house, you can’t erase her from the blackboard of your existence, you know?” West got out a cigarette.

“You’ve got to deal with her, and if you don’t, you’re going to be messed up the rest of

your life.”

“Oh good. She messed up all my life so far, and now she’s going to mess up the rest of

it.” He stared out his window.

“The only person who has the power to mess up your life is you. And guess what?”

West blew out smoke.

“You’ve done a damn good job with your life so far, if you ask me.”

He was silent, thinking about Webb, the memory of what had happened washing over

him like icy water.

“Why, exactly, are we going to my house?” Brazil finally got around to asking that.

“You get too many hang-ups,” West replied.

“You want to tell me how come?”

“Some pervert,” Brazil muttered.

“Who?” West didn’t like to hear this.

“How the hell do I know?” The subject bored and annoyed him.

“Some gay guy?”

“A woman, I think,” said Brazil.

“I don’t know if she’s gA-‘ ” When did they begin? ” West was getting angry.

“Don’t know.” His heart constricted as they pulled into the driveway of his mother’s

home, and parked behind the old Cadillac.

“About the time I started at the paper,” he quietly said.

West looked at him, touched by the sadness in his eyes as he looked out at a dump he had

called home, and tried not to think of the terrible truths it held.

“Andy,” West said, ‘what does your mother think right now? Does she know you’ve

moved out? ”

“I left a note,” he answered.

“She wasn’t awake when I was packing.”

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