4th of July by James Patterson, Maxine Paetro Page B

say. I reached my arm behind me so that I could grab the gun and I saw his face for a split second.
    I saw the hatred in his eyes. I saw his fear.
    “Don’t you move,” the boy shouted, jabbing the gun muzzle hard against my vertebrae. Sweat trickled down my sides. “You killed my sister. You killed her for nothing!”
    I remembered the empty look on Sara Cabot’s face when she fell.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said.
    “No, you’re not, but you will be. And guess what? Nobody cares.”
    You’re not supposed to hear the bullet that gets you, but that must be a myth. The booming report of the shot that drilled through my spine sounded like a bomb.
    I slumped over, paralyzed. I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t stop the flow of blood pulsing out of my body, ebbing into the cold water of the bay.
    But how had it come to this? There was a reason that just eluded my grasp. Something I should have done.
    Slap the cuffs on them. I should have done that.
    That’s what I was thinking when my eyes flew open.
    I was lying on my side, my fists full of sand. Martha was looking down at me, breathing on my face.
    Somebody cared.
    I sat up and reached my arms around her, buried my face in her neck.
    The dream’s sticky sense clung to me. I didn’t need a PhD in psychology to know what it meant. I was churning in the violence of last month.
    Stuck in it up to my eyeballs.
    “Everything’s fine,” I told Martha.
    Lying my face off to my little dog.

Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July

Chapter 31
    WHILE MARTHA HERDED SHOREBIRDS, I sent my mind skyward and pretended that I was drifting effortlessly, up there with the wheeling gulls. I was ruminating on both my recent past and my uncertain future when I leveled my gaze and saw him.
    My heart lurched. His smile was bright, but his blue eyes were scrunched against the glare.
    “Hi, gorgeous,” he said.
    “Oh, my God, look what the tide brought in.”
    I let him help me to my feet. We kissed, and I felt this sensational heat searing my insides.
    “How’d you manage to get the day off?” I finally asked, squeezing him hard.
    “You don’t understand. This is work. I’m scouring the coastline for terrorist infiltration,” he cracked. “Ports and shorelines, that’s what I do.”
    “And here I thought your job was to pick out the day’s color alert.”
    “That, too,” he said. He flapped his tie at me. “See? Yellow.”
    I liked that Joe could josh about his job, because it would have been too depressing otherwise. Our shoreline was extremely porous, and Joe saw the holes.
    “Don’t tease,” he said, then we kissed again. “This is hard work.”
    I laughed. “All work, no play makes Joe a dull guy.”
    “Hey, I’ve got something for you,” he said as we walked together along the jetty. He pulled a packet of tissue paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I wrapped it myself.”
    The packet was sealed with Scotch tape, and Joe had penned a string of Xs and Os where a ribbon would’ve been. I ripped open the tissue and poured a bright silver chain and a medallion into my palm.
    “It’s supposed to keep you safe,” Joe said.
    “Sweetie, it’s Kokopelli. How did you know?” I held the little disk level with my eyes.
    “The Hopi pottery in your apartment kinda gave me a clue.”
    “I love it. What’s more, I need it,” I said, turning my back to him so he could fasten the long silver chain around my neck.
    Joe swept the hair off my nape and kissed me just there. His lips, the roughness of his cheek against that tender spot, sent a thrill through me. I gasped, then turned into his arms again. I liked it there a lot.
    I kissed him softly, and the kiss turned deeper and more urgent. I finally pulled away from him.
    “Let’s get you out of those clothes,” I said.

Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July

Chapter 32
    CAT’S GUEST BEDROOM WAS peach and gauzy with a double bed next to the window. Joe’s jacket flew onto the chair, followed by his blue denim shirt