Villanovich rubbed both hands up and down his face, trying to stay sharp. "Any chance of calling this early tonight? We've already got more than we need here, don't we?"

"Negative," command came back right away. "We want you there for departures."

Another round of shots from Skuba's camera pulled Villanovich's attention back to the house. The Jag's driver had just passed a window on the stairs, walking with a girl on his arm. Tall and black, but not the woman from the front door.

"Jesus Christ." Skuba lowered the camera and muted his headset. "Did you see the rack on her? I don't mind saying, I'm a little jealous out here. And, uh, horny."

"Don't be. Quantico 's on the case now," Villanovich told him, still watching the empty window. "When this place goes down, they're all going down with it."

BEFORE NANA WAS allowed to come home, I had to meet with Dr. Englefield one more time. In the confines of her office on the first floor at St. Anthony's, the doctor was considerably more relaxed and easygoing and human.

"We've unloaded the fluid in your grandmother's chest and gotten her blood pressure back to a baseline level, but that's only a start. She, and you, are going to have to be vigilant. Regina won't admit it, but she's over ninety years old. This is a serious problem."

"I understand," I said. "And so does my grandmother – believe it or not."

Nana was already on a whole new regimen of medications – ACE inhibitors, diuretics, and a hydralazine-nitrate combination that had been shown especially effective with African American patients for some reason. There was also a new no-salt diet to think about, and daily weight monitoring to make sure she wasn't retaining excess fluid.

"It's a lot to get used to all at once," Dr. Englefield said, offering a rare half smile. "Lack of compliance is a major contributor to cardiac arrest for someone in her position, and family support is crucial. It's critical."

"Believe me, we'll do whatever it takes," I told her. Even Jannie had been researching congestive heart failure online.

"I'd also recommend bringing in a home care provider any time you and your wife are out of the house." Englefield had met Bree only once in passing; I didn't bother to correct her. "Of course, that might be a tough sell with your grandmother. I suspect it will be."

I grinned for the first time. "I see you've been getting to know each other. And yes, we've already started looking into it."

The doctor smiled too – for about a tenth of a second. " Regina was lucky to have someone on hand when she collapsed the other day. You'd be wise to make sure she's just as lucky if – or when – it happens again."

It wasn't hard to see why Nana had dubbed this one "Dr. Sunshine." But if she was trying to scare me, it was definitely working.

THE DOCTOR AND I went upstairs to see Nana together. There was safety in numbers after all. Wasn't that right?

"Mrs. Cross," Dr. Englefield said, "you're doing quite well, all things considered. I'd recommend one more night's stay and then we can send you off."

"I like that word, recommend," Nana said. "Thank you for your recommendation, Doctor. I appreciate it. Now, if you'll excuse us, my grandson is going to take me home. I have things to do today, cakes to bake, thank-you notes to write, and so on and so forth."

With a quick shrug from Englefield, I let it go. So did she. Forty-five minutes later, Nana and I were on our way home.

In the car, Nana reminded me of an old chocolate Lab we'd had when I was a kid in North Carolina, just before my parents died. The window was down and she was letting the air blow over her while the world flew by outside. I half expected her to start quoting Dr. King. Free at last, free at last…

Or maybe some choice line of Morgan Freeman's from The Bucket List.

She turned to me and patted the upholstery with both hands. "How do they get these seats so comfortable? I could sleep much better here than in that hospital bed, I'll tell you that."

"So you won't mind that we turned your room into a den," I deadpanned.

She cackled and started to recline the seat. "Just watch me." But when she got too low, her laugh turned into a coughing jag. Her lungs were still tentative; it doubled her over with a hacking sound that went right to my gut.

I pulled over and got a hand behind her until I could raise the seat again.

She waved me off, still coughing but better. My own heart was working overtime. This recovery was going to be an interesting dance, I could tell.

The coughing episode seemed like a good segue, so once we were moving again, I said, "Listen. Bree and I have been thinking about getting someone at the house -"

Nana gave a wordless grunt.

"Just for when we're at work. Maybe half a day."

"I don't need some oversolicitous stranger hovering over me and fluffing my pillows. It's embarrassing. And costly. We need a new roof, Alex, not nursemaids."

"I hear you," I said. I'd been expecting that answer. "But I'm not going to feel comfortable leaving the house otherwise. We have enough money."

"Oh, I see." She folded her hands in her lap. "This is all about what you want. I understand perfectly now."

"Come on, let's not argue. You're going home," I said, but then I caught a little eye roll from her. She was just busting my chops because she could – for the sheer fun of it.

Which was not to say she'd agreed to anything about any "nursemaid."

"Well, at least the patient's in a good mood," I said.

"Yes, she is," Nana answered. We were coming onto Fifth Street, and she sat up a little higher in her seat. "And no one, not even the great Alex Cross, is going to get under her skin on a day as nice as this one."

"A few seconds later, she added, "No nursemaids!"

A HASTILY MADE banner hung over the front door: it said Welcome Home, Nana! in a half dozen colors.

The kids came streaking out as soon as they saw us. I ran interference and scooped Ali off the ground before he could tackle Nana on the walkway.

"Gently!" I called to Jannie, who had already put the brakes on some.

"We missed you so much!" she shrieked. "Oh, Nana, welcome home! Welcome, welcome!"

"Give me a real hug, Janelle. I'm not going to break." Nana turned on like a lightbulb and grinned.

Ali insisted on carrying Nana's suitcase, which he thunk-thunk-thunked up the steps behind us, while Nana took my arm on one side, Jannie's on the other.

When we came into the kitchen, Bree was on the phone. She flashed a big smile Nana's way and held up a just-one-second finger.

"Yes, sir. Yes. I will. Thank you so much!" said Bree into the receiver.

"Who was that?" I asked, but Bree was already rushing over to give Nana a hug of her own.

"Gently!" Ali said, which cracked Nana up.

"I'm not a basket of eggs," she said. "I'm a tough old bird."

We settled in at the kitchen table after Nana made it clear she'd go to bed when "real people" did, thank you very much.

Once we were sitting, Bree cleared her throat like she had an announcement to make. She looked at each of us, then started in. "I've been thinking that maybe this whole idea of hiring someone to be here with Nana might not go over so well. Is that correct?"

"Mm-hm." Nana gave me a look that said, See? I'm not so hard to figure out.

"So… I'm going to cut back at work and stay home with you for a while, Nana. That is, if you'll have me."

Nana beamed. "That's so thoughtful, Bree. And you put it so well. Now that is a health care plan I can live with."