Navy SEAL Rescuer by Shirlee McCoy Read Free Book Online Page A

dreams then, so many possibilities stretching
out before her. She didn’t know how it had all gone so wrong. How every
possibility had become the reality she was living. Dreams dead. Eileen
dying.
    Catherine almost wished the bomb would explode and take out the
house and the yard and all the reminders of what used to be.
    Good and bad and in between.
    Of course, wiping the homestead off the face of the earth
couldn’t change the past or make it more palatable. Eventually she’d get the
fresh start she craved, but the price she would pay for it was one she couldn’t
stomach.
    “Catherine! Thank goodness you’re okay! What were you thinking,
girl, going back in there like that?” Eileen shuffled forward as Catherine and
Darius reached the edge of the yard. Her knobby knees pale, her nightgown
hanging loose around her gaunt frame, she looked nothing like the strong feisty
woman who had raised Catherine.
    “I wanted to get your medicine.” She held up the bottles, then
shoved them into her shorts pockets.
    “Did prison scramble your brains? What if the bomb had exploded
and the house had come down? Do you think that medicine would matter?” Eileen
asked, grabbing her wrist with cold, hard fingers.
    “The house didn’t explode, and if it does, I’ve saved us a
thousand dollars.”
    “Do you think I care about that?”
    “I know you don’t, but I do. Your
health is as important to me as mine is to you, and this medicine is a
necessity.” Catherine slid an arm around Eileen’s narrow waist, her heart
sinking as she felt knobby bones.
    “We can buy more medicine. We can’t buy another you.”
    “I know, but I’m fine, and that’s all that matters.”
    “Just don’t do anything like that ever again, okay? My old
heart can’t take the stress,” Eileen joked, but Catherine worried that there
might be a measure of truth to the words.
    How much would be too much for a woman with metastasized liver
cancer?
    Catherine didn’t want to find out.
    “How about we go sit in the Buick?” she suggested. “You can
rest while the bomb squad works.”
    “It’s better if we all stay here, ma’am,” a female officer
said, sidling close, her face very familiar.
    Had she interviewed Catherine after the Good Samaritan
murders?
    Probably.
    And she’d probably been as convinced as everyone else of
Catherine’s guilt.
    “I wouldn’t go sit in the Buick while all this excitement is
going on, anyway. When a woman’s nearing the end of her life, she doesn’t want
to miss a moment of it.”
    “Eileen—”
    “Why don’t you have a seat over here, Miz Eileen? You’ll have
the perfect view,” Darius cut in, taking Eileen’s arm and leading her to a
grassy area beneath an old apple tree.
    She didn’t even protest.
    Either she was exhausted or infatuated.
    Neither seemed like a good thing to Catherine. She hated to
think that her grandmother needed to sit after only a few minutes of standing.
She also hated to think that Eileen was putting hopes and dreams into Darius.
Catherine knew Eileen wanted her settled and happy before she died, but she
would be happier and more settled alone.
    If only she could convince Eileen of that.
    Voices carried on the still air, shouted commands rumbling
through the night. Whatever was going on, Catherine hoped it would be finished
quickly, and she hoped no one would get hurt in the process.
    “You okay?” Darius appeared beside her, six feet of lean hard
muscles, but his voice held the gentle cadence of the mourning doves that had
roosted in the eaves of the prison. Peaceful and quiet and unassuming.
    “Fine.”
    “You don’t look fine.”
    “Thanks,” she responded, because she’d forgotten the art of
easy conversation.
    “Maybe I should rephrase that. You look beautiful and exhausted
and a little undone.”
    “I’m tired. That’s all.”
    “I’m not sure I believe you.”
    “You don’t have to.”
    “All clear!” someone cried, and Catherine latched onto the
excuse