A Breath Away by Rita Herron Read Free Book Online

world, not yet. Her granddaughter needed her.
    In fact, Violet should have been there to take the phone call. She could have broken the news more gently. She should have protected her, just as she should have protected Darlene.
    Violet had tried so hard to atone for that day. She hadn’t celebrated a birthday since. And now she might lose the only person who’d been a constant in her life.
    The ambulance screeched up to the emergency room entrance. Paramedics jumped into action. A team of doctors and nurses met them at the door, shouting questions and her grandmother’s vital signs as they wheeled her through the ER.
    â€œPulse sixty-five, weak and thready. Respiration thirty, shallow. BP eighty over fifty.”
    â€œDr. Rothchild, cardiology. How long was she out?”
    â€œA couple of minutes.” The paramedic glanced at Violet for confirmation.
    Violet nodded, running behind, her heart in her throat. The EMTs opened a set of double doors and wheeled her grandmother toward an exam room. One of the nurses threw out a hand and stopped Violet from entering, then pointed to a waiting area with a few stiff chairs and an ancient coffee machine in the corner. “You’ll have to wait there, miss.”
    Violet grabbed her arm. “Please let me know as soon as you find out something.”
    The nurse offered a tight smile, her expression sympathetic. “I will. Why don’t you get a cup of coffee or something. It might be a while.”
    Violet’s stomach was too knotted for her to drink or eat anything. Instead she paced the waiting room, her shoes clicking on the tiles, the conversation with Grady Monroe reverberating in her head.
    Your father is dead. He left a suicide note. He confessed to murdering Darlene.
    She didn’t believe it. Why would he have killed Darlene?
    Frustration gnawed at her—it was too late to ask him.
    The finality of his death hit her, and a sob welled in her throat. Her father would never make that phone call she’d desperately wanted. Would never walk in the door and take her in his arms or beg her forgiveness for sending her away.
    He’d never tell her he loved her.
    At least when he was alive, she’d been able to hope that one day he’d reappear and admit the past twenty years had been a mistake. That he was sorry for shutting her out of his life.
    Her knees buckled, and she collapsed on the tatteredvinyl sofa, the scents of antiseptic, and death washing over her. Her chest hurt from the pressure of holding back tears. Finally, she could fight them no longer. Sobs racked her as the hands of the wall clock ticked out the seconds, the minutes. Finally her sobs lessened, and anger replaced the pain. Violet stared at the gray walls, the stained coffee table overflowing with magazines. She was massaging her temples when she spotted the newspaper article on the missing Savannah woman.
    When Darlene had been in danger, Violet had felt so connected to her. And today she’d thought a stranger’s voice had whispered to her on her deathbed. If she had some crazy psychic ability, why hadn’t she ever felt a connection to her own father? Why hadn’t she known he was in danger or that he was contemplating suicide?
    Had he sent her away because he was afraid she might figure out the truth—that he’d killed Darlene?
    Violet dropped her head into her hands. The blood vessels in her temples seemed about to explode. She didn’t really believe he’d killed her friend, did she?
    â€œMiss Baker?”
    She jerked her head up and swiped at her eyes. “Yes?”
    â€œYour grandmother is resting now,” Dr. Rothchild said. “She had a mild stroke.”
    â€œBut she’s alive?”
    â€œYes.”
    Violet stood on wobbly legs. “Can I see her?”
    â€œFor just a moment. She’s being moved to ICU.”
    And her prognosis? She couldn’t bring herself to ask.
    The doctor jammed his hands in