Skin Privilege

'He's barely coherent,' Sara reminded her. 'I'm sure his electric bill is the last thing on his mind.'

Lena started up the front walk. 'I'm going to check.'

'Hold on, lady.' Valentine trotted up ahead of her, hand on his gun so it wouldn't slap his leg. 'Let me just run in there and check things out, okay?'

Lena didn't wait with Sara. Instead, she walked around Hank's Mercedes, looking inside the windows, checking underneath, an air of paranoia surrounding her every move.

Sara followed her, asking, 'What's going on?'

'We had a deal,' Lena said, almost to herself.

'What deal?'

Lena stood on the far side of the car, watching Jake Valentine pull at the tape around the front door, trying to pick it open.

'What were you looking for under the car?' Sara asked, all of her senses telling her something was wrong. 'Who did you make a deal with, Lena?'

'Hey,' Valentine called. 'Anything happens' – he gave a little chuckle – 'y'all know the number for nine-one-one, right?' He didn't give them a chance to respond as he shouldered open the door.

Lena inhaled sharply as if to brace herself.

Valentine waved back at them. 'It's okay,' he said, holding his hand to his side. 'I'm okay.'

Blood seeped into the material of his shirt where the metal flashing on the doorjamb had sliced open his side. Valentine kept putting his hand to the wound then looking at the blood on his palm. Sara could tell from the bleeding that the cut was deep, but he assured them, 'I'm fine. Y'all just stay here while I poke around inside.'

Lena waited until the sheriff disappeared, then opened the back door of Hank's car. She reached under the driver's seat with her hand, keeping her eyes on the house the entire time.

Sara asked, 'What are you doing?'

Lena closed the door quietly, locked the car. She had obviously been checking for something under the seat, but she told Sara, 'That cut looked pretty bad.'

The rain started up again. Sara raised her hand to shield her eyes. 'You wa

Lena gri

Sara remembered the birth certificate applications hidden under the lining, where Angela Adams had listed her brother as the father of her children. It took all Sara's effort not to push Lena aside as the other woman reached into the trunk and picked up the box.

Still, Sara tried, 'That's evidence.'

Lena snapped open the lid before Sara could think of a way to stop her.

Sara suppressed a sigh of relief. The box was empty. Even the liner was gone. Rain splattered the metal bottom.

Lena asked, 'Where did he get this?'

'It was brought in by Charlotte Gibson's husband.'

Lena shook her head. 'That doesn't make sense.'

'All clear,' Valentine shouted from the house. He made his way down the porch, holding his side, obviously in pain. He saw the metal box, and asked Lena, 'Have you ever seen that before?'

Lena shook her head and gently closed the lid.

Valentine holstered his weapon as he asked, 'Any particular reason y'all are poking around in my trunk?'

The first-aid kit was strapped inside. Sara retrieved the kit, saying, 'We thought you might need this.'

He took his hand away from his side, showing her where the flashing had ripped the shirt, sliced apart the flesh. 'I think I need more than a Band-Aid, Doc. This thing is bleeding like a mofo.'

Reluctantly, Sara asked, 'When was your last tetanus shot?'

'I stepped on a nail when I was twelve.'

She looked at the house, dreading the thought of going inside. She didn't want to go back to the jail, either, but she couldn't very well make him stand out in the rain.

Sara headed toward the front steps, telling Valentine, 'You're going to need another tetanus shot. I'll get you patched up as best as I can and then you can drive yourself to the hospital.'

'Drive myself?' He seemed alarmed.

'It's two minutes away,' she said, knowing she should offer to drive him.

Valentine scowled. I hate hospitals.'

'Everyone does,' she said, leading him back to the kitchen. Sara was a plumber's daughter and had been exposed to her fair share of sewage, but she had never smelled anything as bad as this. 'I'll clean it up and get a good look at it.'

'Is it going to hurt?'

'Probably,' she admitted, pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen. Trash was strewn everywhere, but the sink was empty and the light was good. Sara put the first-aid kit on top of a stack of pamphlets on the counter and asked Lena, 'Can you find some clean rags?'

Lena frowned. 'How clean do they have to be?' She didn't wait for an answer. She put the metal box on the table and went back into the hall, the swinging door swishing closed behind her.

Sara lowered her voice, asking Valentine, 'Is there any reason I should be worried about not having gloves?'

'What?' he asked, then blushed and laughed at the same time. 'Oh, no, ma'am. I'm clean as a whistle.'

'Okay,' she said, hoping she could trust him. Sara turned on the faucet and used the soap in the tub of Orange Glo to wash her hands. 'Go ahead and take off your shirt. I can at least get the bleeding under control.'

He put his gunbelt on the table and started unbuttoning his shirt. 'Is this as bad as I think it is?'

'We'll have to see.' Sara opened up the first-aid kit, glad when she saw large gauze pads and surgical tape instead of the usual Band-Aids.

'I hate needles,' Valentine continued. Lena came in, a couple of rags in her hand. He warned them both, 'Y'all don't let it get around, now, but I've been known to faint when I see a needle.'

'Me, too,' Sara told him. She ripped open the gauze pad and he flinched like a child. She was always amazed by how nervous cops got around anything that questioned their invincibility. The man could barely unbutton his shirt.

She asked, 'Do you need help with that?'

'Aw, hell.' Valentine gave up on the buttons and slipped his shirt off over his head, wincing as he stretched, the wound gaping open.

'Careful,' Sara warned, a moment too late.

He looked at the blood dripping down the waist of his pants and joked, 'I'm not go

'Oh, I don't think so,' Sara said, pressing the gauze pad to his wound. 'If you do, I'm sure we can find some donors at the jail.'

'I don't know about that,' Valentine said. 'I've got a rare blood type.'

The blood was already seeping through the gauze. Sara held out her hand for the rags, but Lena did not offer them. She was just standing there, frozen in place.

'AB-negative,' Lena said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'His blood type is AB-negative.'