Summer Shadows by Gayle Roper Read Free Book Online Page A

voice was gentle.
    Abby pulled away from Marsh and shook her head. “My husband. He’s dead too.”
    Marsh flinched.
    “How long ago?” Barnes asked.
    “Three years last month. May 12.”
    “How old was your daughter?” Barnes’s eyes were kind.
    “Two.”
    For several minutes no one spoke. Marsh found himself staring at Abby’s bent head, wondering how so fragile a person could survive such pain.
    “It’s important that I remember so that you can catch the driver who hit that little girl, that Karlee, isn’t it?” Abby asked in a tired voice.
    Barnes nodded. “It would be a great help. We’ll pursue other avenues of investigation, of course, but there’s nothing like an eyewitness account.”
    The ravaged face Abby lifted to Greg Barnes tore at Marsh’s heart.
    “But what if I never remember?”

Five
    W HERE HAD SHE come from, that little girl? He had turned the corner like he’d turned millions of corners, and there she was, right in the middle of the road. What in the world was she doing there?
    He could feel himself still shaking as he remembered. Adrenaline surge. It was a wonder the steering wheel wasn’t vibrating in his hands. Instead he forced himself to focus, to keep himself centered.
    Concentrate!
    Drive!
    Get away! Get away! Get away! Fast!
    He ground his teeth, torn as he was between fury and relief. He was furious with that little pink girl for the trouble she was causing him. It couldn’t have come at a worse time for him personally. So much was at stake. On the other hand, he was relieved because he didn’t think he’d hurt her badly.
    He had swerved to avoid her and almost succeeded. When he glanced back in his rearview mirror, he saw her somersault through the air, but she hadn’t gone far or high. She’d be all right in the long run.
    You hope
.
    “She’ll be fine!” he shouted at his conscience.
    Which was more than he could say for his car. In the process of saving her bothersome little life, he’dsmashed the car’s right side to a pulp scraping along the vehicles parked against the curb. The screaming whine of metal scraping metal raised goose bumps, even in memory.
    He knew the right front fender was pressing against the tire. It pulled as he drove, forcing him to wrestle with the wheel. But he could still drive.
    He had raced around the block, over the bridge, off the island, and away from the scene as fast as he could drive.
    No one knows
, he assured his jangled nerves.
There’s no way anyone’ll ever know
.
    He took big breaths, trying to slow his breathing before he began to hyperventilate. He inhaled slowly to the count of fifteen, pulling the air deep into his diaphragm. He held the breath for fifteen, then exhaled over the same count. By the third time, he was dizzier than ever, gasping for oxygen.
    Where was a paper bag when you needed one?
    As he tried to calm himself, his mind raced with one big question: What should he do now? He couldn’t go back and admit guilt. Even the thought made him nauseous. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat.
    If I went back, I’d always be the one who hit and ran
. He shuddered at the loss of face such a situation would mean.
No, I won’t do that to myself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my bootstrap pulling, it’s never admit you’re wrong
.
    He thought of Johnny McCoy. He’d laugh himself silly before spitting a chaw of tobacco. “You’re no better than me, hotshot” he’d say when he could catch a breath. “Under them fancy suits and that fancy-dancy car and that superior education you got yourself, you’re still a no-good Piney. Always was and always will be, no matter how you try to forget. You can’t rewrite where you come from.”
    Yeah, well, he wasn’t willing to let family heritage control his destiny. The very thought chilled him all the way to the marrow, even in the heat of this sunny June day. There was no way on God’s green earth he was going to be like Pop, sleeping