Page 139 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

“Die, you pampered little freak,” Diedre snarled. Cissy felt her body giving up, her strength failing. Twenty feet below was the hard floor. With an effort, she wound one hand on the rail and held, knowing that if she was pushed any harder she’d do a back flip and fall, to land with a bone-breaking thud. Like Gran.

Pain screamed up her spine, and she was certain it would snap.

Agony tore through her muscles. She felt ligaments pop, tendons tear, and all the while her baby was crying. Oh God, please help me, please…Jack…I love you…B.J., darling baby… The room spun, her brain swam. She flailed with one arm while holding on for dear life with the other.

Her shoulder shrieked with the pressure, and blackness played at the edge of her consciousness. Don’t let go. Whatever you do, don’t let go!

But she couldn’t think, couldn’t fight any longer. The sweet bliss of unconsciousness threatened to pull her under. All she could hear were her frightened baby’s cries and the pounding of her own heart.

It’s over, she thought. The railing shifted beneath her, and the hellish pain in her spine forced her to let go. As her grip loosened and she started to give up, she saw something big and dark and looming behind Diedre. His face was twisted into a mask of hate. Blood smeared his skin.

In those last moments of awareness, Cissy saw Jack blast the gun. Diedre’s body jerked. She shrieked and fell hard against Cissy, grappling with her, both of them careening for the stairs.

Cissy tried to scream, but it was too late. Diedre’s weight pushed her down. They spun down the stairs, screaming, Diedre’s body hitting the railing, Cissy’s tumbling after her.

Cissy tried to call Jack’s name, but then she was lost to darkness.

Bayside Hospital

San Francisco, California

Room 316

Friday, February 13

NOW

What’s this? A priest? Murmuring prayers over me, pleading for my soul? Oh, no…Please, Father, listen to me…. I’m not dead, I’m not even sure I’m dying…. There are other voices, whispers…. I’ve heard their voices before, and they’re saying their good-byes…. Who are they? People who care about me? People who love me? They think I’m dying. Oh, no, no, no…They come in and they sob, they cry and touch me, whoever they are. Familiar voices offering prayers for my soul.

Then there is silence, only the sound of the machines monitoring my responses…the damned machines that don’t show the fear that makes my heart pound or the ventilator that doesn’t register when I draw in a horrified breath…. I hear someone moving through the room, and a series of cl

icks…. Oh God, they’re turning off a machine. The ventilator? No…Oh no…I feel a weight…it’s hard to breathe…impossible, oh, please do not do this…stop!…Help me! Please! Dear Jesus, help me! I can’t hear anything anymore, nor smell. For the love of Christ, I can’t breathe…I…can’t…

Epilogue

San Francisco

May 14

Cissy opened her eyes and fought the headache that had been with her since the night at the Amhurst mansion, the night she nearly died. Had it not been for Paterno and the EMTs, she probably wouldn’t have made it. Nor would her husband or child.

As it was, they were safe.

She rolled slowly out of bed and stretched, feeling pain in her back. It might be with her the rest of her life; then again, she was making a “remarkable” recovery.

Slipping out of the covers, she hobbled into the baby’s room. No longer on crutches or a cane, she fought the pain and was able to walk on her own.

“Hey there, big guy,” she said as she found her son standing in his crib.

“Big guy!” B.J. said, raising his little arms to be picked up.

With difficulty she lifted B.J. into her arms and kissed his head. Oh God, she loved this child, and to think that she’d almost lost him. In the aftermath of the battle with Diedre, the police had found B.J. safe, if frightened out of his little mind. Between Jannelle, Deborah, and Rosa, the baby had been cared for and brought to the hospital daily while Cissy recovered.

“Let’s go wake up Dad,” she said.

“Dad-dee wake!”

“Not yet, but he will be.” She let B.J. down to do the honors and watched as he ran into the other room. Coco, who had been curled in her bed in the corner, stretched and followed after him.

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