Almost Dead Read Free Page A

years earlier and surrounded by manicured gardens. Near her grandmother’s home, she pressed on the electronic gate opener and slowed as the old iron gates groaned open. She pulled into a spot in front of the garage, hit the button again and, once the gates were locked behind her, tried to figure out how she was going to haul B.J., the pizza box, diaper bag, and purse into the garage and upstairs without dropping the baby or ending up with melted cheese and marinara sauce everywhere.
    “You win, Beej. You get to go first,” she said, tossing her purse into the oversized diaper bag. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she walked around the car, ignoring the tantalizing scent of garlic and pepperoni as she unbuckled her son. “You can stay with your great-grannie while I run back down here,” she told the boy. She hoisted him onto the same hip she used to nudge her car door closed. Rubbing her nose into his ear, she heard him giggle. “Come on.”
    Sometimes it was a real headache to visit Eugenia when the staff had the night off. It would be so much easier for Cissy to spend time at the old mansion when someone else was here to help with the baby. Then there wouldn’t be the problem of dinner, or the guilt that if she didn’t show up the old woman would be disappointed.
    Carrying B.J., who was making loud smacking noises with his lips just to hear himself, she walked along a brick path through tall rhododendrons and ferns that still dripped from the rain that had stopped over an hour earlier. This old house, where she had grown up, held a lot of memories. Maybe too many. Some good and a lot that weren’t, but the brick, mortar, and shake walls, peekaboo dormers and sharp gables had endured two earthquakes and generation after generation of Cahills. For well over a hundred years it had stood on the slopes of Mt. Sutro, offering up commanding views of the city and the bay. Cissy didn’t know if she loved the old house or hated it.
    Oh, get over yourself, she thought, inserting her key into the old lock.
    “Helloooo,” she called as the door opened. “Sorry I’m late, but…Oh God!” She bit back a scream and turned away, hiding her son from the sight of her grandmother lying on the marble floor, blood pooling beneath her head. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” she whispered. She dropped her keys and the diaper bag, then, still holding B.J. close, fished in her purse for her phone. She was trembling all over, her fingers scrabbling for her cell. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she said over and over as she found the phone and punched out 9-1-1.
    Beej, picking up on her stress, began to howl. Bracing herself, Cissy placed him on the bench on the porch. “Sit here for just a second, honey,” she instructed.
    “No!” he screamed and began scrambling down as she hurried inside.
    “Gran!” Bending down on one knee, Cissy reached to her grandmother’s neck, her fingers searching for a pulse, the phone pressed to her ear. She felt nothing beneath her fingertips, no sign of a heart pumping. “Oh, Gran, please be okay.” Her stomach cramped, and she thought she might be sick.
    “Nine-one-one, police dispatch.”
    “Help! I need help!” Cissy yelled. “It’s my grandmother!”
    “Ma’am, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.”
    “There’s been an…an…accident. A horrible accident. My grandmother fell down the stairs! She’s hurt. Bad. There’s blood everywhere. Oh God, I think she might be dead! Send someone quick. Oh God! Oh God, I can’t find a pulse!”
    “What is your address?”
    “Send someone now!”
    “I need the address and the name of the victim.”
    “It’s…it’s…” Cissy rattled off the address as she tried again to find a pulse, to hear even the shallowest drawing of breath. “My grandmother’s Eugenia Cahill. Oh, please send someone…. Hurry!” She glanced over her shoulder, out the door, and didn’t see her son sitting on the bench.