Free Blessed are the Meek by Kristi Belcamino Page B

side. He places his hands under the man’s jaw and presses. Water dribbles out of the man’s mouth.
    Mark leans down and puts his ear to the man’s mouth and nose. Then gently puts the man flat on his back and, holding the man’s nose, begins rescue breathing. He stops and puts his finger on the man’s wrist, muttering something.
    The music has stopped, and the only sounds are a few whispers. Finally, after what seems like forever, Mark jerks up and turns the man’s head to the side. The man vomits a pinkish neon froth, then begins coughing and trying to sit up.
    Â­People rush over with towels and a glass of water and soon I can’t see the man at all. After a few seconds, the crowd parts, and leaning on another man’s shoulder, the red-­faced man heads to the side of the house down a path leading to the driveway.
    Mark stands alone in dripping clothes.
    I make my way over there.
    â€œNice work.”
    â€œWas worried there for a minute,” Mark says. “He’s lucky.”
    â€œIs he going to be okay?”
    â€œHe’s headed to the hospital to get checked out, but yeah, I think so.” He turns and smiles.
    The blond woman Mark was talking to in the pool rushes over and wraps him in a big hug. “Thank God you were here!” Without a backward glance at me, she drags him off to a lawn chair near hers, where he strips off his wet shirt and rolls up the cuffs on his pants even more before turning his face to the sun.
    Once everything has settled down, I realize I’d forgotten all about Adam Grant and Annalisa in the commotion. I glance over to where they had been standing.
    They’re gone.
    I quickly slip through another door, winding my way through the house, with my towel clutched over my bikini. But I don’t hear a sound. I tiptoe around the terra-­cotta floors, trying to figure out which direction Grant and Annalisa went. Small drops of water drip from my hair onto the floor. I pause, listening. Nothing but the sounds of laughter outside.
    Then, faint voices off the room closest to the kitchen filter out. I think that was the room where Grant said he was going to change earlier. On instinct, I grab someone’s empty glass off the kitchen counter as I pass and creep to the adjacent room. Slowly, I crack the door. It’s an empty bedroom, the one where I stashed my clothes among other ­people’s totes and purses. I slip in and lock the door behind me. I press the glass against the wall, then my ear against the glass. Perfect. I can hear every word in the other room.
    â€œWhy would you bring him here? A police detective?”
    â€œI was scared.”
    â€œYou don’t think I’m capable of protecting you?”
    â€œYou don’t understand,” she says. “He’s helping us. He wants to prove I’m innocent. It’s under control. He will do anything I say. Anything. Trust me.”
    â€œWhy are you acting so skittish now? You must tell me what’s going on? You were fine, and now you act like you’ve seen a ghost?”
    Annalisa had looked frightened when she glanced at the pool.
    â€œIt’s nothing. I just don’t want to go back out there.”
    â€œI don’t understand. It’s your party.”
    â€œPlease, please don’t make me go back out there?” She is pleading. She sounds terrified.
    â€œThere, there.” Grant’s voice is soothing.
    â€œBesides. I miss you,” she says with a purr in her voice. “We can have much more fun in here, anyway. I can think of lots of things for us to do. Nobody will miss us.”
    I hear Grant’s low laugh. Then silence. I wait, listening, with the glass starting to hurt my ear. Then I hear a moan.
    â€œOh God,” I hear Grant say, groaning.
    I am startled by the sudden turn in conversation, and my grasp on the glass loosens. It falls to the floor and shatters on the stone floor, the loud noise piercing the