Loe raamatut: «Grievous Sin»

For Jonathan

For the Three Musketeers—Jess, Rachel, and Ilana

And for my D’Artagnan—Aliza Celeste

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Faye Kellerman

Predator

Copyright

About the Publisher

1

Her first sound was more bleat than wail, but she had ten fingers and ten toes, and that was all Decker cared about. Wrinkled and red, her skin covered with something akin to cold cream, she seemed perturbed by the world rather than scared by it. Decker watched as Georgina, the labor nurse, scooped his daughter from the obstetrician’s arms into her own. After rubbing the infant with a towel and giving her a quick exam, the nurse swaddled her in a blanket. The baby was finally presented to Papa for inspection.

She had a mottled face, her nose scrunching as she beeped rather than cried. Her eyes were closed, lids as thin as onion-skin. Downy fuzz covered her scalp. Decker took a gloved index finger and placed it on a tiny palm. Slowly, soft pink digits encircled his finger. It brought tears to his eyes.

“Is she okay?” Rina’s voice was anxious.

“She’s perfect, darlin’,” Decker answered. “Just … perfect.”

“Of course she’s perfect!” Georgina folded thick arms across her bosom. “We only deliver perfect babies here.”

Decker shifted his attention from his daughter to his wife. Rina’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lips moving in silent prayer. Damp black tresses lay across her forehead. Never had she looked so beautiful.

“She’s perfect, Rina.” Decker’s throat was clogged. “Just like you.”

Rina gave him a weak smile, and Decker suddenly became aware of her exhaustion. But he knew such fatigue was normal after childbirth.

“You did great, Madame Decker!” Georgina’s stubby finger stroked Rina’s arm. “Just hang in a little bit more, and then you take that much deserved nap.”

“Close your eyes, Rina,” Decker said.

She nodded as her lids fell shut. Then she jerked them open and started breathing rapidly.

“Everything okay, Dr. Hendricks?” Decker asked.

“So far,” the obstetrician answered. “She’s expelling the afterbirth now. The contractions won’t go away until she does.”

Then Rina stopped panting as suddenly as she’d started. Decker watched Hendricks as he tended to Rina. Most of the doctor’s face was hidden behind the surgical mask, but his eyes were visible and clouded with concentration. He placed his palms on her abdomen and pushed down. “Rina, do you feel strong enough to nurse the baby?”

Rina whispered yes. So frail.

“That’s great, doll,” Hendricks said. “Let Nature help us along.”

“Help with what?” Decker asked.

The doctor didn’t answer. Georgina took the baby from Decker’s arms and placed her on Rina’s chest. Cradling the infant, Rina watched a little wet mouth bob along her breast until it found the nipple. With a little encouragement, the baby pursed her lips and began to suckle.

Rina closed her eyes again, beads of sweat dotting her brow. At the bedside, Decker dabbed her face with a washcloth. He glanced around the labor room, taking in the surroundings for the first time. The place was papered in a chintz print—some sort of small vining flower. A handloomed rug had been thrown over an institutional tiled floor. The hospital bed was framed in wood, stained to match the wicker of a Sydney Greenstreet chair planted across the room. The homey decor was supposed to give the illusion that the woman was giving birth in her bedroom. But Decker couldn’t block out all the medical machinery standing idle against the wall, the I.V. stand tucked into the left-hand corner.

Definitely a hospital.

He had been there for nineteen hours that had somehow been compressed into minutes. Now time was moving in slomo. The hands of the wall clock showed him only ten minutes had passed since his daughter had been born. The baby was still sucking on Rina’s breast, but her eyes were closed—nursing in her sleep. Pink heart-shaped lips working Mama’s nipple as thread-sized veins pulsed in her temple. Decker knew he was biased, but she was a beautiful baby.

His eyes drifted to Rina’s face. Her lips were pale and parched.

“Can Rina have something to drink?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” Hendricks said, talking under his mask. Once more he pressed on Rina’s stomach.

“Can she at least suck on some ice?”

This time the doctor didn’t answer. Decker felt a headache coming on. Maybe he was just hungry—ten hours since he’d last eaten. Again Rina went into her Lamaze breathing. Decker held her hand, offered words of encouragement. Before the arrival of the doctor, he’d felt particularly needed. Now he was an appendage—useful but not indispensable. Rina stopped her labored breathing and wearily closed her eyes. Her voice was a whisper.

“I’m very tired.”

“I bet you are,” Hendricks said. “How about we give you a rest? Georgina, put the baby in the incubator and wheel her into Infant Recovery.” He looked at Decker, and smile lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “You’ve got a beautiful, healthy daughter, folks. She shouldn’t be in Recovery more than an hour or so. Then they’ll move her to the nursery and you’ll be able to show her off to the family.”

“That’d be nice,” said Decker, smiling.

“Grandparents all excited?” Hendricks asked.

“Yeah, they haven’t held a newborn in a while.”

Neither had he, he thought. Nineteen years. My God, it seemed like yesterday since Cindy was born. And then, sometimes, it seemed like a thousand years. Georgina loaded the baby in the incubator. “Be back in a minute.”

Decker nodded, and the room turned quiet. Rina’s eyes were closed, her mouth slightly agape. Decker wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he didn’t want to disturb her rest. A few minutes later, Georgina returned. She placed a hand on Decker’s shoulder.

“How’re you holding up, Pop?”

“Not too bad for an old guy,” Decker said. “Mom’s resting.”

“Yeah, she needs some peace and quiet.”

Hendricks said, “Georgina, set up a twenty-milligram Pitocin drip, please.”

Anxiously, Decker looked up at the labor nurse. She flashed him a smile of crooked teeth, but the expression wasn’t cheery. Then she liberated the metal stand from the corner and opened a cabinet door. Out came a plastic bottle that hung on a rack. Georgina hooked the I.V. line up to Rina’s left arm, then adjusted some valves. A moment later, Decker saw clear liquid run through plastic tubing. Again the doctor pushed on Rina’s abdomen. A soft moan escaped from her lips as she attempted to control her breathing. But fatigue was taking its toll. She cried out. Decker looked at Hendricks.

“I’m pushing with some pressure,” the OB said calmly. “It doesn’t feel comfortable, but it should help Mom along. Georgina, increase the rate of the drip.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

Decker didn’t like the military cadence in the labor nurse’s voice. It had gone from jocular to professional. He felt his heart race.

“Is everything okay, Doctor?”

“She’s having a bit of trouble expelling the placenta.” Hendricks paused. “I can feel it, but … the Pitocin should help. Does it hurt, honey?”

Again Rina nodded.

“Honey, I need to keep pressing on your uterus. Just keep on with your Lamaze breathing.” He turned to Decker. “Just help her like you did in labor.”

The doctor compressed her stomach wall. Rina’s face contorted with pain.

“Try to breathe, Rina,” Hendricks said.

“I can’t—”

“Breathe, Rina,” Decker said. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts.”

Rina took his hand. Her fingers held no strength, and her complexion had become wan. Hendricks clucked his tongue and shook his head. Decker felt his stomach drop.

“Georgina, get a gurney and see who’s available for OB Anesthesiology,” Hendricks said. “Also, get me point two-five milligrams of Methergine and a BP cuff.”

“What’s going on, Doc?” Decker said.

Hendricks ignored him.

“What’s going on?” Decker repeated.

“In a moment, Peter.”

Decker was silent, his gut a tight, wet knot. His body ached with tension. He forced himself to rotate his head, releasing a symphony of creaks and pops from his neck. Georgina returned, carrying a metal tray with a needle on it. Hendricks took the syringe and injected the medicine into Rina’s shoulder. She didn’t even wince.

“I love you, Rina,” Decker whispered.

A nod was her answer.

A petite woman in scrubs entered the room, a gurney in tow. Hendricks pushed the gurney until it abutted Rina’s bedside.

“I’m going to move you to a delivery room, Rina,” Hendricks said. “At the count of three, I want you to slide your backside onto the gurney. Think you can do that?”

Rina moaned a yes.

On three, Rina raised her body as Hendricks and Georgina lifted her onto cold, brushed metal. Up went the side rails, Georgina locking them into place. The flaps of Rina’s hospital gown had unfolded, exposing her breasts. Decker drew them back together and wiped Rina’s forehead with the washcloth.

“Peter, I want to keep a close eye on Rina until she delivers the afterbirth,” Hendricks said. “It may take a while. At this point, it’s no emergency. But she is bleeding a tad more than I’d like to see. I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to be with her now. Don’t worry. And get some rest.”

“Why can’t I come with her?” Decker said. “I’m already suited up—”

“No, I’m going to have to insist you remain here.” Hendricks’s voice was firm and taut. “Georgina, could you please escort Sergeant Decker back to the waiting room.”

Before Decker could get words up from his throat, Rina was whisked away. He felt a sudden chill and shuddered. Pressure on his elbow—Georgina’s hand.

“This way, Sergeant.”

“Why … why is he—”

“Just like he said, Sergeant. He feels safer if she’s in a delivery room—”

“You mean an operating room.”

“Whatever.”

“Why is he taking her there? Can’t he deliver a placenta here?”

“It’s a precaution.”

“Precaution for what?” Decker shouted.

“Sergeant, would you like to come this way, please?”

“No, I would not like to come this way, please! I’d like to know what the hell is happening with my wife!”

Georgina said, “Sergeant, you know as much as I do.”

“Aw c’mon, lady, you work here. Surely, you have some inside dope!”

Georgina was quiet. Decker began to pace.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Sergeant. I understand.”

Decker trod the floor. “He said something about her bleeding. Does he mean bleeding? Or does he mean hemorrhaging?”

“Sergeant, I don’t know.”

The room became still. Decker covered his mouth and blew out air. His eyes began to burn, and he rubbed them vigorously. Georgina managed a tepid smile and placed a fleshy hand on his shoulder.

“Come.”

Decker remained rooted. “When will I know what’s going on?”

“Sergeant, I’m sure the doctor will speak to you just as soon as he can. These changes in plans happen all the time. It’s usually nothing.”

Decker bit his thumbnail. “You know, in my profession, I give that kind of bull … that kind of line all the time. I see a distraught parent whose kid is missing. I say, ‘Hey, it happens all the time. Usually, it’s nothing.’ But sometimes, it’s something.”

Georgina didn’t answer.

“Right?” Decker raised his voice. “Sometimes it is something, isn’t it?”

Georgina lowered her eyes, then looked up. “Yes, sometimes it is something, Sergeant.”

“Well, if it would be something, what …” Decker cleared his voice. “What could it be?”

“Sergeant, I’m just not qualified to diagnose your wife’s condition.”

Decker was silent.

Georgina sighed. “Sergeant, do you have any family with you?”

Family. Rina’s parents. The boys. Decker felt his knees go weak. He sank into the Sydney Greenstreet chair and ran his hands down his face. Wordlessly, Georgina handed him a glass of water. He downed the glass too quickly and felt his stomach rock with nausea. His skin felt prickly and gelid. It took him a minute to find his voice.

“They’re waiting in the lobby … my daughter, Rina’s parents …” Decker swallowed hard. “Rina’s sons, too. What should I tell them?”

“I’ll walk you out and talk to them.”

Decker shook his head. “No, it’ll scare them—the boys. Their father died about four years ago.”

“Oh dear, I’m very sorry.”

“You can understand why I don’t want to alarm them.”

“Absolutely. I didn’t realize …”

Decker stared at his empty glass. “How about a little guidance here?”

Georgina thought a moment. “Be low-key and tell them the truth. That the doctor is still with Rina but just as a precaution. She’s having a little trouble expelling the afterbirth.” She patted his hand. “I know this is going to sound a little cavalier, but you’re getting worked up over nothing, Sergeant.”

“What happens if she can’t deliver it?” Decker asked.

Georgina frowned. “You’re very persistent.”

Decker shrugged helplessly.

Georgina sighed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, because I don’t know your wife’s individual situation—”

“But?”

“But sometimes the placenta has an obnoxious habit of sticking to the uterine wall. Sometimes to get it all out, the doctor has to go in and do a D and C. It’s done under anesthesia, and that’s probably why Dr. Hendricks wanted an anesthesiologist.”

“Oh.” Decker felt his shoulders relax a fraction. “A D and C’s kind of a routine procedure, isn’t it?”

Georgina paused. “I shouldn’t be telling you anything. Pretend we didn’t have this discussion, okay?”

“All right.” Decker blew out air. “Thanks. Really, it helps.” He ran his hand through thick ginger hair. “Is there any way you can peek in and—”

“No, Sergeant.”

Slowly, Decker rose to his feet. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Decker nodded. Georgina gave him a bear hug.

“Now you go in there and smile. Your wife’s in very good hands. You go tell the family the good news about your new little daughter.”

His new little daughter. Decker had forgotten about her.

2

Six pairs of beaming eyes greeted him. Even across the third-floor lobby, Decker could see their excitement and expectation. It was all he could do to keep from gagging, but that was probably him. Worried over nothing. But now he had to think of the boys. Not to mention Rina’s parents, who had already gone through hell fifty years ago. No need to set everyone in a panic over a little medical problem.

He took a deep breath, ran his hand along the surgical blue pants, and put on the smile. To make it genuine, he thought about his new little daughter. He did a slow lope across the waiting room, dodging couches and chairs upholstered in houndstooth wool and coffee tables sprouting Styrofoam cups. The room held a few lone souls reading paperbacks and checking their watches as well as one other small grouping similar to his own clan—a family expecting to hear news soon. He approached his entourage.

“Well?” his mother-in-law asked.

Her “Well” came out “Vell.” The Eliases were Hungarian. Stefan was strong and squat in contrast to Madga, who was lean. Her dress and accent reminded Decker of a dark-haired Zsa Zsa Gabor.

“A healthy little girl,” he announced.

“Ah, Akiva, mazel tov!” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Boys, you have a new little sister!”

And for a moment, Decker did feel good, caught up in the hugging and well-wishing. Sammy pumped his hand and said that a sister wasn’t the bar mitzvah present he had in mind. Jake whooped like a crane. Cindy simply slapped his back and told him “Way to go!”

It was Marge who held back. When he caught her eye, she smiled and winked at him, but Decker could feel her studying his expression. She knew: the way it is with partners. Quickly, he held a finger in the air—a sign to her not to push it. She understood.

“And how is my little Ginny?” Stefan asked. “When do we see her?”

His little Ginny, Decker thought. The Eliases called Rina by her English name, Regina. Ginny for short.

His little Ginny. His little daughter!

Remain calm, Deck.

“Akiva?” Magda asked. “Everything is okay, yes?”

Decker bit his lip. Damn it, he couldn’t keep the anxiety in check. Cut to the chase.

“Well, Magda, she has a teeny problem. She’s still with the doctor.”

Magda brought her hand to her chest and fired out a series of foreign sentences that sounded like questions.

“Magda, I don’t understand Hungarian,” Decker said.

Stefan said, “What do you mean, a problem?”

“She’s having a little trouble expelling the afterbirth. I’m sure it’s noth—”

“But she’s okay, no?” Magda interrupted. “Where is she?”

“With the doc—”

“How long will she be with him?” Magda said.

“I don’t know, Magda,” Decker said. “The doctor didn’t tell me. So why don’t we sit down and relax while we wait.”

“There’s no one we can talk to, Akiva?” Magda said.

Decker glanced at his stepsons, then shot a meaningful look at his mother-in-law. Though upset, Magda took a deep breath and smiled at the boys. Then she placed her hand over her mouth—as if her fist would muzzle her apprehension.

Decker winked at his stepsons and received scared expressions. He knew he should say something reassuring, but he was afraid that the words might sound hollow. Instead, he took a position on the arm of the couch, drawing Sammy under the wing of his right arm.

Magda paused, then perched herself on the edge of the sofa. She brushed imaginary specks off black wool pants and camel jacket. Rina had inherited her mother’s coloring—the dark hair and light eyes—but Magda was thinner, bonier, than her daughter. Stefan cuddled Jake next to his muscular chest. He was dressed in a gray shirt that matched his hair, and black pants. On his feet were orthopedic shoes. Something new, Decker realized. Cindy stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Decker turned around and gave her a weak smile. At nineteen, his daughter had turned into a young woman—tall, with radiance in her expressive brown eyes. Her face had lost its adolescent roundness and now had the bone structure of a newly crowned adult along with a tan from the summer sun.

Magda blurted, “Does doctor say this is a big problem?”

Decker said, “No, he was pretty casual about it. Just wanted to watch her as a precaution.”

Hell if he’d tell his mother-in-law about her daughter bleeding a tad more than Hendricks liked. And it was probably no big deal. Decker remembered his first wife having a D and C after the birth of their second child. Jan had been just fine. Unfortunately, the baby had been stillborn—a boy. Morbid, unwanted thoughts began to invade Decker’s brainspace. He tried to shake off the nightmarish memory.

“But she’s all right, my Ginny?” Stefan said.

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“They didn’t want you with her, Akiva?” Magda asked.

“No …” Decker hesitated. “No, they wouldn’t let me stay with her. But everything’ll work out. It always does.”

The group was silent.

“Where is she now?” Stefan asked.

“They took her into a delivery room.”

“But she delivered okay?” Magda said.

“Like a trouper.” Decker stood. “Doc just wanted to watch her.”

“That’s what you’re paying him for, Pete,” Marge said.

Decker stared at his partner—the voice of reason. But he didn’t feel rational. He stood and rocked on his feet. “It happened so fast. One minute she delivered a gorgeous little girl … the next …” He caught himself. “It’s just a precaution. Don’t worry.” Again he tried a smile for the boys. “Hey, your mom’s an iron woman.”

“The doctor looked worried?” Magda said.

“Just concerned.”

“But not worried?” Magda said.

“Maybe a little worried.”

“But not a lot worried,” Magda said.

“A little, a lot,” Stefan said. “Magda, you’re driving everyone crazy.”

“I want to know.” Magda began to chide her husband in Hungarian, then stopped herself. “I worry.” She smiled at her grandsons. “You know your omah is a worrier. I worry about everything.”

Decker took his mother-in-law’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Why is she still with the doctor?” Magda asked.

“Magda, I honestly don’t know,” Decker said. “They kicked me out.”

“Is she going to be all right, Dad?”

Decker regarded Sammy—an adolescent face with eyes that held a child’s fear. As Decker searched for the right explanation, his father-in-law picked up the slack.

“Sure, she’ll be fine, Shmuli,” Stefan said. “Your eema’s a strong girl. You want something to eat?”

Sammy shook his head.

“Nu, and you, Yonkel?”

“No, thanks, Opah.”

With resolution, Stefan slapped his hands onto the pillow cushions and hoisted himself upward. “Then we go to the gift shop.” He checked his pockets. “Buy some comic books maybe. Something nice for Eema’s room. Come on, boys. Do you have a twenty, Magda?”

“It’s okay, Opah,” Sammy said. “I’ll just stay here.”

“No, you come with me, Shmuli,” Stefan said. “I don’t know what comic book you like. Only the cat who eats lasagna.”

“Garfield,” Cindy said.

“Yes, Garfield. And who is the other? With the tiger?”

“Calvin and Hobbes,” Jake answered.

“Calvin and Hobbes,” Stefan repeated. “You come, too, Yonkel.”

Slowly, the boys got up and walked over to their grandfather’s side. He tousled the boys’ hair above the napes of their necks, careful to avoid knocking off their new leather yarmulkes. Jake leaned into his grandfather’s side, but Sammy kept his distance. Hands in his pockets, eyes cast on the floor. Decker felt the onslaught of parental failure, disgusted that he couldn’t put aside his own nervousness to comfort his son.

“Thanks, Stefan,” Decker said.

Stefan patted Decker’s back softly. “You just like my wife, you worry. You think you hide it, but I can tell. I just talked to God. He tells me she’ll be fine. So relax, nu?”

Decker marveled at how well the old man coped. Was it a skill he picked up because he survived the camps, or did he survive the camps because he had the skill? Decker sometimes wondered how he would have done if he’d been forced to live through the torture. Probably would have fallen apart, if the present was any indication.

“You go down to the gift shop with your opah, boys. I’m going to try to find out what’s going on.”

Marge said, “Let me ask—”

“No, I’ll ask—”

“Pete—”

“Marge, let me handle it my way.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not neces—”

“C’mon, Pete. Let’s go.”

“Marge, maybe you should stay with Magda.”

“No, you go ahead with her, Akiva.” Magda stood and brushed off her pants. “When Stefan says God say she’ll be okay, she’ll be okay. Cindy and I maybe go see the baby.”

Cindy’s face suddenly became animated. It was wonderful to see her spontaneous burst of joy. It reminded Decker that this was supposed to be a happy occasion. “Can we really see the baby?”

“I don’t know, Cindy.” Magda hooked her arm around Cindy. “We find out.”

“You can’t go behind the double doors,” a middle-aged woman in a white uniform told them. “I’m sorry. Staff only.”

Marge took out her badge. “Police, ma’am.”

The woman backed away. “Oh … okay. I thought …”

Decker didn’t give her a chance to fill in the blank. He took off down the long corridors and didn’t stop until it dawned on him that he didn’t know where he was.

“Is this Maternity, Pete?”

“I don’t know.” He grabbed his head. “God, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m freaking myself out.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Margie, my stomach feels like vinegar.” He bit on the ends of his mustache. “They took her into a delivery room.”

“We can’t exactly waltz into delivery rooms making inquiries, Pete.”

“That wasn’t my intention, Marge.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to sound snide.” Marge stopped a young kid in scrubs and asked for directions to Maternity. Down the hall to the right.

Decker left without thanking the kid, forcing Marge to trot just to keep up with him. But Decker knew she was smart enough not to say anything about his behavior. The woman had picked up some salient points after working with him for six years. Decker found the set of double doors leading to the labor rooms and went inside. The flooring had gone from carpet to linoleum with geometrical designs, and felt cold under his paper-muled feet. Still gowned up, for all the nurses knew he might have been an expectant father on a coffee break instead of an interloper.

The nurses’ reception area was empty, except for a woman in blue scrubs in the back office talking to someone holding a broomstick—either a janitor or a witch. The corridor was devoid of people, which surprised him. When he’d brought Rina in, the hallway had been well populated. But that was during the daytime. It was almost nine, and most of the ancillary staff went home by five. The nighttime floor nurses must be occupied with women in labor.

Next to the nurses’ station was a lab room, its counters stocked with scopes, slides, and vials. A large industrial sink was mounted on the wall—stainless steel with a deep bowl like the ones at the morgue. The recollection made him shudder. Past the lab, down the hallway began a series of doors leading to the labor rooms. He peeked through one of the windows, feeling a little voyeuristic, and saw a woman, her bloated belly hooked up to machines, face contorted in pain. Through the closed door, he could hear panting, then an agonizing moan.

Stretches of empty pale pink corridor, the smell of antiseptics, hallways echoing feral growls—a real house of horrors. Maybe this was a nightmare. He was going to wake up any minute and find Rina safe, asleep at his side. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, reminded him this was all too real.

Georgina—her eyes on Marge.

“Excuse me, miss, but this is a restricted area.”

“I’m just accompanying Sergeant Decker. He’s wondering what’s going on with his wife.”

“I’ll be happy to help Sergeant Decker,” Georgina said. “Would you like directions out of here? It can be a maze.”

Marge nodded. Georgina directed her down the hallway and told her to follow the Exit signs. They’d lead her back to the lobby. Marge thanked her, threw Decker a sympathetic look, turned, and walked away.

Decker managed a sidelong glance at Georgina, feeling assertive and sheepish at the same time. “I was just wondering …”

Georgina took his arm. “Let’s go talk somewhere else. Hallways aren’t conducive to conversation.”

She took him inside the nurses’ station, giving him a seat at the front desk. The woman in the blue scrubs and the woman with the broomstick were still deep in conversation. There was a series of numbered monitors against the back wall, each one making audible beeps at different tempos. At least the pitch was the same. Hanging on the right wall was a blackboard with the labor rooms’ numbers, the name of the patient, doctor, and any specifics. Decker found Rina’s number. After her name was delivered, then the letters or along with the names of three doctors.

“She’s still in the operating room?” Decker asked.

“Yes, she’s being operated on,” Georgina said flatly. “I don’t know the nature or the extent of the procedure. All I know is they called in a couple of scrub nurses and an anesthesiologist. I’ll let you know more—”

“Are they doing a D and C?”

“I don’t know exactly—”

“Is she still bleeding?”

Georgina gave that all-too-telling pause. “I’m sure everything’s being done to control her situation.”

“Is she in imminent danger?”

“She’s in good hands—”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Decker stood, then felt his knees buckle. “God, I’m going to be sick.”

Georgina helped him back into the chair. She heard a high-pitched continuous beep and turned to one of the monitors. “I have to check on someone. You just sit there, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Decker nodded. Head down, he watched spots of light dance on his lap. He raised his chin, felt his head swim. Catching sight of something in blue paper garb marching down the corridor, he leapt up and caught her by the arm. The woman immediately backed away. Her head was still covered by a cap, but her face mask dangled by strings around her neck like an undersized bib. Her name tag said dr. wallace.

“Are you with my wife?” Decker whispered.

The woman looked at her arm still in Decker’s clutches. “Who’s your wife?”

“Rina Decker.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

Decker released the woman’s arm. “My God, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Decker, I understand.”

Decker regarded her eyes—intense and purposeful, but not the kind of eyes that were about to deliver tragic news. Man, he’d seen that look before.

“Your wife is being operated on—”

“I know that. How is she?”