Blood of Cain (Sean O'Brien (Mystery/Thrillers)) Read Online Free PDF Page B

right.”
    Courtney smiled. She walked in the direction she was given, but turned down a hallway that led the opposite way from the front door. She stepped quickly over the polished tile floor, ignoring a nurse who asked if she could help her. Courtney found the rear exit and bolted out the door. She ran down a long alleyway. A frightened a black cat jumped from a garbage can, the aluminum lid falling to the concrete. The sound of Courtney's hard soles echoed off the old walls between the buildings and the rattle of dripping air conditioners. Drops of warm water hit her in the face. She ran harder, turning the corner at the end of the alley.
    A city bus was pulling away from a stop at the corner. Courtney banged on the bus door. The startled driver opened the door and Courtney paid the fare, taking a seat in the back. She noticed many of the passengers were about her age, college students. She rode for more than ten minutes, and when the students began getting off the bus, she followed suit. She found herself on the campus of Stetson University.
    The campus was set in acres of well-manicured grass. Caladiums and oleanders were planted behind rows of border grass. Squirrels hopped between stately old oaks, the blooming jonquils and azaleas like perfume to Courtney. The red brick buildings were majestic, reminding her of Old South plantation mansions she'd seen in part of South Carolina. She watched students walk by talking and laughing about some event they shared together earlier. Some rode skateboards, iPods in ears, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Two male students tossed a Frisbee.
    Courtney sat on a park bench beneath an oak tree and watched them for a minute. She could hear church bells in the distance. The smell of grilling barbeque chicken was in the breeze. Suddenly she felt a deep sense of sorrow, as if she was an absolute stranger in a strange world and was just passing through, never belonging, never achieving. Never becoming, only witnessing from afar. And she felt so alone.
    An acorn fell from the oak, bouncing off the wooden bench to within inches of her shoe. She watched a squirrel coming closer to her, the squirrel's eyes on the prize. Courtney leaned over to pick up the acorn. It was hidden in a patch of grass that had somehow missed the mower's blades. Next to the acorn grew a tall, perfect clover in the speckled sunlight through the branches. She picked the clover and held it in front of her, rotating the four leaves in her hand.
    Maybe this is a good sign.
She touched each of the leaves and remembered a conversation she’d had with her grandmother about the Irish shamrock. Courtney would continue. She had no choice. She smiled, reached for the acorn and said, “Come here little fella.” She gently tossed it to the squirrel, the animal scampering like an outfielder chasing a groundball. The squirrel sat back on its haunches, looking directly at her and gnawed the heart out of the nut, its cheeks puffing out.
    Courtney Burke smiled, glanced down at the four-leaf clover in her hand, and she no longer felt so alone.

8
    Jupiter
was home. She was docked, back in her stationary course less than eighty yards from the Tiki Bar in the small universe of Ponce Marina, slip L-17. Seeing my old boat at her place secured to the docks, floating on a rising tide, was like seeing an old friend back in the game of life. Max and I walked down the long pier,
Jupiter
near the end. The breeze across the harbor brought the smell of a receding tide, barnacles drying in the sun, mangrove roots, and grilled shrimp. Three brown pelicans flew just above the masts of the sailboats. The birds cut a sharp right and alighted near a fish-cleaning station as a charter boat arrived. Fresh meat.
    After watching the newsflash on the television hanging above the bar, I told Kim Davis that I'd seen the young woman, Courtney Burke, walking along Highway 314 last night. The girl refused my offer to drive her to town, or anywhere for that