Kisscut

He said something under his breath.

"Jeff?"

He asked, "You didn't get any more information out of her?"

"She seemed disoriented, and terrified."

"Do you think she's seriously ill?"

"I don't know if it's fear or shock or if she's recovering from giving birth. I didn't get to spend much time with her. I…"

"What?"

"I feel responsible for not looking out for her. She was in my clinic. If I'd been able to keep her there-"

"She ran away, Sara. You did what you could do."

She pressed her lips together. "I wish that made me feel better."

"I wish it did, too," he said. "I wish I could tell you how to get rid of the guilt, because I sure as hell don't know."

Sara felt tears well into her eyes. She put her hand to her mouth so that Jeffrey could not hear her cry.

"Sara?"

She cleared her throat, wiping under her eyes with her free hand. She sniffed, because her nose was ru

Jeffrey said, "Was there anything else Lacey said? Maybe something about Mark, why he was after her?"

Sara bristled, because asking her the same questions over again wouldn't get them any closer to finding Lacey Patterson. "Stop questioning me. I've had a bad enough day without getting the third degree from you."

He was silent, and she could hear the engine accelerate again.

Sara closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, waiting for him to speak.

"I just…" He stopped, then, "I gotta tell you, the idea of somebody hurting you really pisses me off."

She laughed. "Me, too."

"Are you all right?" he asked again.

"Yeah," she said, though she was feeling very unsettled. The clinic had always been a safe place for Sara, and she did not like the fact that her work at the morgue had some-how seeped into her private practice. She felt vulnerable, and she did not like that.

"Nick called," she told Jeffrey, then explained to him what Nick had said.

"Purity?" Jeffrey repeated. "That's what Je

"Right," Sara agreed. "I think it all goes back to sex. She wanted to be clean again, right?"

"Right."

"So what made her feel unclean?"

"Banging all those guys at the party might have done it."

"She was drunk," Sara reminded him, feeling anger stirring deep inside of her.

"They say she wasn't too drunk to know what she was doing."

"Of course they said that. What else would they say, that they raped her?"

He cleared his throat. "That's a point."

"Why else would she do what she did?" Sara demanded. "Je

Jeffrey's tone was indulgent. "We don't know exactly what happened, Sara. We probably never will."

Sara changed the subject, knowing she could not have a logical conversation with him about this right now. "Nick sent that tattoo to the FBI. Nothing kicked out on their database."

"That's actually what held me up," Jeffrey told her. "I'll tell you about it tonight."

"No," she said. "Tell me about it tomorrow."

He was silent, then, "I thought you wanted to see me tonight?"

"Yes," Sara assured him. "I do, but not to talk business." She waited a few beats. "I need to not think about this tonight. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "As long as I still get to see you."

"If you can stand it," she said, trying to make light of it. "I've got a big green Band-Aid on my head."

"Does it hurt?"

"Mmm," she mumbled, looking out the window. She saw her mother walking up the steps to Tessa's garage apartment.

"Sara?"

Sara turned back to the conversation. "I'm counting on you to help me take my mind off of it."

He laughed at this, and seemed pleased. "I've got to talk to Mark and do a quick briefing with evening patrol about looking for Lacey. Not that there's much any of us can do tonight. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"You think it'll be late?"

"Probably," he said. "You want me to let you sleep?"

"No," she told him. "Wake me."

She could almost hear him smiling. "I'll see you then."

"Okay," she answered, then hung up the phone.

Sara got another glass of water before going outside. The pavement was hot as white coals against her bare feet, and she tiptoed the last couple of yards to get to the stairs.

Tessa's apartment was large, with two bedrooms and two baths. She had painted the walls in primary colors and accented these with comfortable chairs and a roomy couch that tended to make the occupant want to take a long nap. Sara had often slept over at Tessa's, especially after the divorce, because she felt safer at the time being here than being in her own home.

"Tessie?" Sara called, trying not to let the screen door slam behind her. Cathy had left the wooden door wide open, which seemed odd since the air was on.

Tessa's voice seemed strained. "Just a minute."

Sara walked back to her sister's bedroom, wondering what was going on. "Tess?" she said, stopping in the doorway.

Tessa was holding a tissue to her nose, and she did not look up when Sara came into the room. Cathy was beside her, arms crossed over her chest.

"What happened?" Sara asked at the same time Cathy did.

"What?" they both said.

Sara pointed to her sister. "What's wrong with you? Why are you crying?"

Cathy walked over to Sara and put her hand to Sara's head. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"It's a long story," Sara said, waving away her mother's hand. "Tessie, what's wrong?"

Tessa shook her head no, and Sara found herself suddenly feeling dizzy. She sat on the bed, asking, "Is it Daddy?"

Cathy frowned. "Don't be silly. He's healthy as a horse."

Sara put her hand to her chest and let out a puff of air. "Then, what's the matter?"

Tessa walked over to her dresser and picked up a long piece of white plastic. Sara recognized the pregnancy test stick before her sister handed it to her.

Sara could not think what to say, so she said, "You're supposed to do these early in the morning."

"I did," Tessa answered. "Then I did it again at lunch, and then again just now."

"All positive," Cathy said. Then, "I guess we can take her into the city next weekend."

"Into the city?" Sara asked, wondering why they would need to go to Atlanta. She figured it out soon enough, and shook her head no, not accepting this. "You're going to get an abortion?"

Tessa took back the test stick. "I don't really have a choice."

"That's not true," Sara snapped, standing. "Of course you have a choice."

"Sara," Cathy chided.

"Mother," Sara began, then, "Jesus Christ, Tess, you're thirty-three years old, you make a great living, you've got Devon so in love with you he can't see straight."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Tessa asked.

"It has everything to do with it," Sara told her.

"I'm not ready."

Sara felt so shocked that for a moment she could not speak. Finally, she asked, "Do you know what they do, Tessa? Do you know what the procedure entails? Do you know how they-?"

Tessa stopped her. "I know what an abortion is."

"How could you even think-?"

"Think what?" Tessa snapped. "Think that I'm not ready to have a baby? I can think that pretty easily, Sara. I'm not ready."

"Nobody's ever ready," Sara countered, trying not to yell. "How can you be so selfish?"

"Selfish?" Tessa asked, incredulous.

"All you're thinking about is yourself."

"I am not," Tessa shot back.

Sara put her hand over her eyes, not believing she was having this conversation. She dropped her hand, asking, "Do you know what they'll do? Do you know what will happen to the baby?"

Tessa turned away. "It's not even a baby yet."

Sara grabbed her sister's arm and turned her back around. "Look at me."

"Why? So you can try to talk me out of this?" Tessa asked. "This is my choice, Sara."