Deadly Aim by Patricia H. Rushford Read Free Book Online Page B

mean? I already know you.”
    Anna moved her head from side to side and settled her dark brown gaze on Angel. “Oh, honey. You don’t know me at all.”
    What did you mean, Ma? How could I not know you ?
    A gentle knock sounded on the door, pulling Angel from her musings. She tried to ignore it, but whoever it was put a key in the lock.
    Startled, Angel bounced to her feet. “Who’s there?”
    The door swung open. Her mother’s salt-and-pepper hair barely showed above two large paper grocery bags. She was still wearing church clothes—a floral-print, knee-length dress and black heels—and was carrying an oversized black purse. Her slender legs looked like those of a much younger woman.
    “Hi, honey, it’s just me.”
    Angel glanced at the phone, then started toward the door. “How did you get here so fast?”
    “I was in the neighborhood.” She’d apparently used her new cell phone—the one she swore she would never buy.
    Angel bit her tongue to keep from saying something she’d regret. She wished she had never given her mother the key to her apartment. Anna had insisted the family have a key in case of an emergency. Did the shooting constitute an emergency? Apparently.
    Angel took the grocery bags and set them on the counter, sniffing appreciatively. Whatever was in those bags smelled wonderful. If she were the least bit honest with herself, she’d admit that deep down she was glad her mother had come.
    “Oh, sweetheart!” Anna deposited her purse on the kitchen counter, then hurried to Angel’s side. “You look terrible. Are you running a fever?” Her hand automatically went to Angel’s forehead.
    Angel ducked and brushed her mother’s hand away. “I’m not sick, Ma. I just...” Shot and killed a kid . She couldn’t finish the thought, not aloud at any rate.
    Anna wore an injured expression on her face, the one that said, I’m your mother, Angel. Don’t push me away .
    Angel ignored the look and peeked into the bags. “What’s all this?”
    “You’ll see.” Her mother smiled, her hurt apparently swallowed up in the pleasure she took in feeding her only daughter.
    Angel pulled out a bag of cookies. She opened it and inhaled deeply before snagging one. “Grandma’s oatmeal chocolate chip?”
    “Of course.”
    Angel closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the moist, chewy morsel. “Mmm,” she said, trying to talk around the cookie. “These are so good.”
    “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Anna scolded, though obviously pleased with Angel’s response.
    Angel shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth and reached for a quart-sized plastic container. “Soup?”
    “Chicken noodle.” Anna ran water in the sink and washed and dried her hands on the towel hanging from the refrigerator handle.
    In the other bag Angel found a chocolate cake and a container of icing. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
    “Of course I did.” Anna wrapped an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “You’re my baby. Besides, it was no trouble.”
    Angel resisted the urge to step into her mother’s embrace and be enveloped in the comfort she knew those arms would bring. She’d stopped needing her mother’s comfort years ago. Running to Mommy with every little hurt wasn’t something Dad appreciated, so she’d quickly learned to tend to her own scrapes and bruises.
    Anna let her arms drop. She covered the awkward moment by saying, “Where do you keep your pans?” Not really needing an answer, since she’d been the one to organize the kitchen, she opened the cupboard next to the stove and took out a saucepan. “I’ll heat up your soup. Maybe you could put icing on the cake. Didn’t have time to do that. I’d just gotten home from church when your father called.”
    “You didn’t have to come,” Angel said again.
    Anna opened the lid on the soup container. “I know.” Dumping the still-frozen soup into the pan, she turned on the front burner. “You want to be independent and on your own. You