CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
July 9, 2010
Late Afternoon
Cleo tried to roll like the emergency videos taught as she hit the ground, but her knees ached anyway. She stumbled to a clump of bushes with tall broad leaves and stalks of pink flowers.
Jacob’s ladder. She recited the plant’s name to calm herself as she crawled through the bush, rocks scraping her knees and palms. Her wrists yelped at even the softest brush of contact.
Wish you could’ve seen me, Cal. You would have finally been impressed. She’d grabbed the vase of flowers beside the bathtub and smashed it into Hawke’s face, aiming for his jaw. As he’d fallen backward, stunned and choking on the flowers, leaves, and water, Cleo had shoved a few more petals into his startled mouth.
She hadn’t stopped to think whether the dose would kil
