Page 48 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

“As is your son,” Paterno added, and she felt colder still. Fear and despair clawed at her. Her baby. Oh God, no one would ever want to hurt her baby. Surely not.

“Just a second,” she said, her throat catching. Before anyone could say another word, she ran upstairs, taking them two at a time, hearing Coco on her heels. On the second floor, she tore down the hallway to Beej’s room, pushing open the door that was already ajar. Heart thumping with fear, she hurried to the crib and found him fast asleep, his eyes closed, his tiny lips open as he breathed.

“Oh, Beej,” she whispered. Her heart felt bruised. He was safe, and she would make certain he would always be safe no matter what it took. Her eyes burned, and Cissy fought back tears. Then she checked both of the windows in his room to see that they were latched and double-locked.

She couldn’t think about losing B.J., about his life being in jeopardy. Feeling unsteady, she splashed cold water over her face in the bathroom before returning downstairs. “I’m sorry,” she said to the two detectives as she returned to the living room where they sat unmoving, waiting. “You scared me so much I had to make sure Beej was all right.”

“We understand.” Did they? She doubted it, but she just listened while they explained they weren’t certain of the details of her uncle’s death, but it looked like he’d been poisoned. They would know more once the tox screens and other lab work and autopsy were performed.

Cissy felt her insides quiver.

Of course they were doing the same with her grandmother’s remains, but they promised to release the bodies as soon as possible because they knew she had to make funeral arrangements. They asked her to stop by the station to look over a computer-generated sketch of the assailant, as several people at Harborside had seen her.

“Her?” Cissy repeated.

“Yes, a woman. In her sixties, maybe even seventies.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“She could have been disguised; in fact, we suspect she was,” Paterno said.

“Does she have a name?”

“Mary Smith. Claims she was from a local church, and, of course, the church in question has four Mary Smiths, and one Mary Smythe, in their congregation. We’re checking them all out, but figure the name is an alias.”

“You think it’s Marla,” Cissy stated flatly.

Quinn shook her head. “This Mary Smith has been visiting Rory since before your mother escaped. So, no, it wasn’t Marla.”

Paterno said, “Unless she started impersonating the real Mary Smith.”

“But why?” Cissy said. “My uncle could hurt no one.”

“We’re working on that too.” Paterno stood. “Is there anyone who can stay with you?”

“Believe me, I’m fine.”

“Your husband’s not home?”

“No,” she said, and smiled. “Not yet.” Why go into it? She’d consider telling them the true state of her relationship with Jack when she went to the station, looking at the picture of the suspect, whoever Mary Smith was.

After escorting the detectives to the door, Cissy closed and locked it behind her, throwing the deadbolt and punching in the lock on the knob. She thought of the figure she’d seen outside her house and the guy who’d bumped into her outside the coffee shop. Were they related to all this or not? Little goose bumps raised on the back of her arms, and she hurried upstairs again, walking directly to B.J.’s room. He was inside, of course. Just like earlier. He hadn’t been snatched away in the last thirty minutes.

Nonetheless, she adjusted his blanket around him and sent up a silent prayer for his safety. Downstairs, Coco growled, and for the first time since the dog had come to live with her, Cissy decided it might not be such a bad thing to have a furry little house alarm always on guard.

“Sleep tight,” she said and couldn’t help but wish Jack were with them. It would be comforting, knowing he was here to protect them.

Even if he was a lying, cheating son of a bitch.

Bayside Hospital

San Francisco, California

Room 316

Friday, February 13

NOW

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