"Mama said that a lot," Lacey told her. "Jenny wanted you to think she was a good person."
Sara put her hand to her throat. "She was a good person."
Lacey looked down at the floor. "Whatever."
"What happened to Jenny was horrible. It wasn't her fault."
Again, Lacey shrugged.
"Sweetheart," Sara said, trying to sound reassuring. She reached for Lacey's hand, but the girl pulled away.
Sara let a minute pass before asking, "Why do you think Jenny threatened to kill Mark?"
Lacey shrugged, but Sara could tell she knew the answer.
"Do you think she wanted it to stop?"
She shrugged.
"Do you think this was the only way she thought she could stop it, by pointing that gun at Mark? By ending up in…" Sara stopped, feeling a heavy weight settle on her chest. Jenny had known that she would end up on a table in the morgue. Making Jeffrey pull that trigger was her way of forcing Sara to see what was happening to her.
Lacey looked up, her face completely devoid of emotion. "Jenny knew better than that," she said. "She knew it could never be stopped."
Sara reached for a response, more afraid than anything that what the girl said was true. "We'll catch Dottie before she does this again, Lacey. I promise we'll do everything we can to stop her."
"Yeah, well…" She shrugged, as if Sara had just told her an impossible fantasy. She asked, "Is my daddy gonna be here soon? I wanna go home."
"Lacey," Sara began, not knowing what else to say.
The girl looked up, tears in her eyes. The past few days had aged her. She no longer looked like a carefree little girl with nothing more to worry about than whether or not she would make the cheerleading squad. The people who had abused her were gone, but she would always carry around what they did to her in her heart. Looking at her, Sara had never felt so helpless in her life. She wanted to do something, to help, but she knew it was much too late for that. She also knew that there were more kids like Lacey out there, more children who had fallen victim to Dottie Weaver-and many more who still could.
Lacey wiped her nose with the back of her hand, sniffing loudly. She managed a smile for Sara, repeating, "Is my daddy gonna be here soon? I wanna go home."
Sunday
One Week Later
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tessa flopped into the chair opposite Sara at the dining room table. "Am I going to be throwing up like this for the rest of my life?"
"I hope not," Sara mumbled, not really paying attention. She was reading through a chart, trying to make sense of her own handwriting. "What does this say?" she asked, sliding the chart across to Tessa.
Tessa studied the scribble. "Permanent apples?" she guessed.
"That's what I got, too," Sara mumbled, taking back the file. She stared at the words, willing them to make sense.
Tessa r eached into Sara's briefc ase and took out a magazine.
"That's a journal," Sara told her.
"I may not be a doctor, but I do know how to read," Tessa shot back, flipping through the pages. After a couple of beats, she closed it, saying, "There aren't any pictures."
"There're some in the back," Sara told her, reaching across the table to show her sister a close-up of a very red, very enlarged appendix. She flipped the page to the companion shot, which showed the organ dissected in all of its bleeding glory.
"Oh, Jesus," Tessa groaned, clamping her hand over her mouth as she stood from the table. She nearly knocked Cathy over as she ran out of the room.
Cathy asked, "What's wrong with her?" as she put a plate of deviled eggs on the table.
"Dunno," Sara said, staring at the chart. "Oh," she said, finally figuring it out. "Palpated appendix."
Cathy frowned. "Do you have to do that at the dining room table?"
Sara stacked the charts together. "Not anymore," she said. "That was the last one."
Cathy sat across from her, taking a sip of Sara's iced tea. "How's that going?" she asked, indicating the charts.
"Slowly," Sara told her. "But, better than I thought. I mean, better for Grant. She kept a low profile here."
"As your father would say, don't shit where you eat."
"Exactly," Sara answered, her smile feeling tight across her face.
"Speaking of which," Cathy said. "I heard Dave Fine is going to trial."
Sara nodded. "He thinks he can stay out of jail."
"I think jail might be the only safe place for him," Cathy said, taking another sip of tea. "Did you talk to Lacey's father about her helping out at the clinic after school?"
Sara nodded, tucking the charts into her briefcase. "He's going to think about it."
"I don't imagine he'll stick around town long," Cathy said, giving Sara a careful look. "No matter what he's saying, people think he knew."
Sara shragged, not comfortable talking about this with her mother.
Cathy said, "I heard his tires got slashed outside the Piggly Wiggly the other day."
Sara studied her mother, trying to figure out what she was getting at.
"I just don't want you to get hurt," Cathy finally said. "I don't want to see you get close to this girl, then have her father take her away."
Sara busied herself arranging her briefcase. Jeffrey had said the same thing to her the other night.
"You know," Cathy began, "you could always adopt a child."
Sara felt a tight smile on her face. She took off her glasses and set them on the table. "I, uh…" She stopped, giving a humorless laugh. It was so much more complicated than that.
Cathy waited for Sara to speak.
"I really don't want to talk about that right now. Mama."
Cathy reached over and took Sara's hands in hers. "I'm here when you want to."
"I know."
Tessa walked back into the room and popped Sara on the back of the head, muttering, "Bitch."
Sara laughed, and Tessa stuck out her tongue.
Cathy raised an eyebrow as she stood from the table, but did not comment. She asked Tessa, "You feeling okay, baby?"
"Yes, Mama," Tessa answered, but she did not look it. Sara felt a flash of guilt for showing her the photograph.
"You sure?" Sara asked.
"Oh, I'm just peachy," Tessa snapped back. "My hair is oily, my skin feels scritchy, my pants are too tight." She stopped on this, tugging at the legs of her shorts. "They keep crawling up my crotch."
"Nature abhors a vacuum," Sara told her, laughing.
"Sara," Cathy warned, but she was laughing as she walked back into the kitchen.
Tessa sat down again, taking one of the deviled eggs. "Where's Jeffrey? He's half an hour late."
"I don't know," Sara said, watching her sister suck down the egg. "I thought you were sick to your stomach."
"I was," Tessa said, taking another egg. "Now… not so much."
Sara started to say something, then stopped when she heard a car pull up in the driveway. "That's Jeffrey," she said, standing up from the table so quickly that her chair fell back. She caught it before it hit the ground, and gave Tessa a nasty look, hoping to cut off the comment her sister obviously wanted to make.
Sara purposefully took her time walking to the front door. Jeffrey was about to knock when she opened the door. She leaned in to kiss him, but stopped when she saw the expression on his face. "What is it?"
He held up a videotape as his answer.
She shook her head, asking, "What?"
"Let's go into the den," he said, leading the way down the stairs. She could tell from the way Jeffrey held his shoulders as he walked that he was angry. His posture was rigid, his jaw set in a firm line.