Spore (27 page)

Sean choked back a sob and grasped Mare’s hand. The ultrasound’s computer screen flickered and shifted, showing blood flows and unidentifiable globs. The technician used a measuring tool to mark various things on the screen which, to Sean, looked like everything else, then she moved on to other random mish-mashes of dark and light flickers and splots.

She scanned for a long time on Mare’s left side, near the far edge of the scar cluster, returning often to focus on a pair of neighboring globs with smaller dots and fibrous looking structures inside. He thought each larger glob looked like an oblong pomegranate after it had been cut open, round little pods organized around a central fibrous mass. The smaller circles and fiber strands were measured, along with the distance between the two larger masses.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Mare asked.

“I can’t say, ma’am,” the technician replied as she typed something into her keyboard and the image on screen froze.

“Can’t or won’t? It’s my life we’re trying to save here.”

“Both.” Another shift of the scanning wand, another frozen image. “The hospital won’t allow me to comment on what I see. I’m just a tech, not a diagnostic specialist or surgeon.”

Sean flinched.
She said surgeon.

Mare didn’t flinch, she got mad. “It’s my life! I demand to know what you’re looking at.”

“I can’t tell you, other than it’s a complete scan of your reproductive system along with special focus on any abnormalities or unexpected findings. If you have questions, please ask your doctor.” A few more scans, clicks, and pictures later, the ultrasound finished and they were ushered out with instructions to return to the imaging waiting room.

By the time they got there, the woman with the crust on her face had died.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mindy watched Todd struggle to control his emotions as he started the SUV and eased away from the police and sheriff vehicles at his mother’s. They worked their way across town in the gathering twilight, and he said nothing, merely hitched a catching breath now and then. Mindy sat beside him, unsure what to say to ease his pain.

He pulled into his driveway and turned off the SUV. He sat there, trembling, hands balled on his thighs, while silence closed around them like a dark and deadly shroud. “I want to find him. To
slaughter
him. I need to make him pay for hurting my girl.”

“I know,” she said, laying her hand on his.

He grasped her hand. Held it. Squeezed it. “How… How can I do nothing?” he asked the windshield. “How can I not track this monster when I know what he’ll do to her if I don’t stop him?”

“I don’t know. What do you tell other parents when…”

His head sagged and he shuddered, silently sobbing for a few moments. “I tell them that we’ll do our best to save their child.” He took a shaky breath and turned his head to stare at her. “It’s all bullshit. Meaningless.”

“I know,” she said. “But it gives them hope.”

“This freak…” He paused, lower lip curling in. “He steals children, cuts off their feet, repeatedly rapes them, disembowels them alive, then rapes them again. And then when those precious kids are cold, rotting husks, he tosses them in a ditch or field to be eaten by bugs and coyotes until some poor soul stumbles over them.”

He stared at the windshield. “There is no fucking hope. He’s had her almost two hours. Her feet are already gone. She’s been raped in every potential orifice. And she’s probably been or soon will be gutted. My baby’s gone. She’s dead. And I couldn’t save her.”

He shook his head, low, trembling sounds coming from his throat, then he cried, “I couldn’t save her from her mother, and I couldn’t save her from this. I’m a shitty father, a shitty, shitty—“

“No, you’re not!” Mindy said, her voice cutting through the dark. “You’re a good father, a good man. Don’t take the blame for the actions of a psychopath. It’s not your fault.”

He bawled in great, heaving sobs, and let her draw him close and cradle him as best she could despite the guns and gadgets in their way. “I swear, it’s not your fault,” she whispered. “It’s not your mom’s fault. It’s no one’s fault but his. Blame him. He deserves your anger. No one else.”

They sat there, twisted around the tools of his trade, until he pulled away and fished a handkerchief from his pocket. He blew his nose and settled himself. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I wish I could do more.”

An awkward silence lingered, then Todd cleared his throat. “It’s late. I should take you home.”

“You don’t need to face this alone,” she said, touching his hand as he reached for the ignition. “Sean and Mare don’t need me. We can stay here, if you want to.” She drew her hand away. “Or you can take me back if you’d rather be alone. It’s really up to you. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding.” He wiped at his eyes. “You sure you can stay? It’ll be a long, ugly night.”

“I’m sure.”

He gathered his files and she followed him to the house. While he paced and cried over marker-makeup Barbie, Mindy made tea. When he stood at the back door, staring out to the night, Mindy rotated laundry and folded the stuff out of the dryer. Midnight approached and the police radio on the counter offered no hope; their concerned chatter led only to dead ends and frustration. So Mindy made more tea. She listened to stories of Hailey, of her birth, her babyhood, of preschool, of how she was a squirrel in the spring play at school.

“Was because of her red hair,” Todd said, staring into his steaming mug of Earl Gray. “But Mom made her this tail, a huge bushy thing with a wire frame, the same color as her hair. And she could shake it, the tail, with a hunk of string wrapped around her wrist. Was the cutest thing.” He sighed and she saw teardrops fall into his tea and onto the table. “I’ve called her my squirrel girl ever since.”

Mindy squeezed his hand. He’d barely let go since they’d sat at the kitchen table. “You’re a great dad.”

He nodded and sipped, then stared past her, his eyes growing distant, and she held his hand and waited for him.

“She wanted to go to Disney. I told her we couldn’t, it was too expensive. But I already had the trip booked for late August, right before school starts. Just us two. A real vaca—“

His cell phone rang, a perky Celtic tune with a girl singing about touching the sky. He ripped the phone from his pocket and stared at it, crazed laughter burbling from him. “Hailey!” he gasped. “Thank God! Where are y—“

His obvious relief evaporated and he snarled, “Let me talk to my daughter, you fuck!”

Mindy drew back her hand and covered her mouth.
She’s alive! Oh, thank you, God for saving her. Thank you, thank—

Todd pushed something on the face of his phone and thrust it at her. “They want to talk to you.”

He stood, moving quickly to a nearby cabinet drawer as Mindy held the phone to her ear, her hand shaking. “He…
Hello
?”

“Yo, bitch,” the muffled voice said on speaker phone. “We have a little girl here who
really
wants to see her daddy.”

“Give her back.” Mindy pulled the phone away from her ear and looked wide-eyed at Todd as he silently laid a tape recorder in front of her and pushed RECORD.

“Oooh, not so fast, spore bitch,” the voice said loud enough to be recorded. Todd held a finger to his lips and gently grasped her hand to position the phone near her mouth and directly over the recorder. “We need to make us a little…arrangement.”

Mindy reached for Todd and grasped his forearm, holding it against her as if his relieved and quaking presence could keep her steady. “What sort of arrangement?”

“What do you think? You or her. One of you won’t make it to morning and the winner is up to you. You willing to kill a kid so you can keep writing some stupid blog? Somehow, I don’t think that’s in your makeup, Minders.”

Minders?!? Fucking goddamn Jeff!
she thought, looking at Todd as he mouthed Jeff’s name.
I know you’re not the creeper so you did all this, you even kidnapped Todd’s daughter, because I dared to stand up to you and make you accountable for what you’ve done?
“Where? How?” Mindy snapped before Todd could coach her otherwise. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

The muffled voice laughed. “It’s not her you should be worried about. We’re going to have a fun time before dawn, oh yes.”

Todd thrust a note in front of her nose.
Ask to talk to Hailey. Need proof she’s alive.

Mindy ground her teeth.
So help me God, I will hunt you down and cut off your nuts for this, Jeff.
“Let me talk to Hailey. Now. Or I’m hanging up.”

Todd gaped, his eyes wide, and shook his head, mouthing,
No, don’t hang up!

“Eh, whaa…” The voice said, fumbling.

“You heard me,
Jeffy
. Let me talk to the kid. If you want me, if you want to finish teaching me that lesson, you’ll have to prove she’s all right. I’m not doing squat until I talk to her.”

The phone remained silent for a heartbeat of time. Then two. Mindy said, “What’s the matter, Jeff? Chicken? Gotta hurt little girls to prove you’re still a man?”

“Fucking bitch! Fucking, fucking bitch!” She heard footsteps and a slamming door. “You shoulda stayed dead.”

A child whimpered. “No, please! I haven’t done anything! Please let me go!”

“Hailey? Is that you?” Mindy asked, looking at Todd, who collapsed to his knees beside the table.

“Who… Who’s this?” Hailey asked, crying. “I want my dad. Help me get my dad.”

“Right here, baby,” he said. “We’re coming.”

“Daddy!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry, Daddy, it happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to yell or run.”

Her voice faded even as she screeched, “Daddy! No! Let me talk to my dad! Please!”

The muffled voice returned. “There. You talked to her. You come alone in a regular car to the address I just texted. I hear one peep about this on the police radio, and I’ll crush her ginger skull. I see one police car, I’ll crush her ginger skull. I see that fuckwad father of hers…”

“You’ll crush her skull. Got it,” Mindy said as the phone made a cheerful chirrup sound. A text had arrived. Mindy looked at it and choked back her fear.
Our old house?

“You have ten minutes, Minders. Don’t be late. Time’s a wasting.”

The call went dead.

Todd grabbed her hand and dragged her to her feet. “Other car’s in the garage. Let’s go.”

Sean yawned and stretched. Hospital TV sucked, especially on a Saturday night.

They’d put Mare in a private room in the obstetrics hall with vague promises that the doctor was coming soon and would explain her medical issues. Even when pressed, when stopped and confronted, the nurses didn’t admit to anything else. He heard excuses about being short staffed, over worked, and documentation lost somewhere in various shuffles.

He didn’t buy it. It was a freaking hospital, for God’s sake. There were supposed to be rules. Practices. Procedures put in place.

Most of the fight in Mare had evaporated after the ultrasound. Her color was still all right, but her eyes had grown distant and numb. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want a snack, just wanted to be quiet and rub her left side. Sean held her hand and tried not to lose hope.

About quarter after eleven, a yawning nurse stumbled in to check Mare’s vitals, then pulled out a syringe. When Mare asked what it was for, the nurse said, “I’ve been up for thirty-nine hours and haven’t eaten since a cold Pop Tart for breakfast. Everyone’s getting a ‘be good’ shot. Don’t like it, you can sue me. I’ll get fired. Maybe go to jail. It’ll be a blessing.”

Before Sean could stop her or Mare could scramble out of bed, she plunged the needle into Mare’s thigh and started to stumble back to the hall.

Sean blocked her path. “What the fuck? What’d you just inject her with? You can’t just give people shots for no good reason!”

“You want one?” she asked, pulling a sealed, filled syringe from her pocket. “Demerol or Codeine? Personally I’m a Demerol fan. Makes the ladies sweeter.”

“No, I don’t want one! I want to know what’s wrong with Mare!”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” she said around a yawn. “We haven’t received patient files for six hours. Too many patients, too few staff. If they’re not about to spew out a baby, I honestly don’t give a fuck why they’re on my floor. I just want them to be good.”

She waggled the syringe. “Sure you don’t want one, too? You could have a nice nap. A naaaaap. Sleep ‘til morning.”

He blinked, shocked and furious. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Wiggle waggle. “Naaap!”

“Get away from me.”

She shrugged and tottered away. “Ignorant asshole. Don’t know what you’re missing. I’d sell my soul for a fucking nap.”

Sean returned to sit beside the bed while Mare watched him with glassy eyes. “I feel really, really good. Floaty.”

“It’s the narcotic. Try to rest.”

She leaned back, her eyes drifting closed. “I’m not sleepy, exactly, just really relaxed.” She sat quietly for a moment while watching an air freshener commercial, then “Oh! My belly stopped hurting.”

“Just the narcotic, babe.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“No, no, before the shot. No cramps, no anything but the blood.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Maybe it’s not a big deal, ya know? Maybe it’s treatable. Whatever it is. Maybe my body’s fighting it off, us living at Spore Central and all. Wonder spore powers activate!”

He smiled at her old comic book joke.
It never hurts to hope.
“Might be.”

“You should go home. Get some sleep.” She rolled her head to look at him. “Really. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m fine.” He stretched out his legs and tried to get comfortable.

“You need to finish those inks, and someone needs to be there when those spores come. What if they’re kids? What if your uncle breaks in? Who’ll help them if you’re not there?”

He sat upright, shaking his head. He’d forgotten about the spores. “Babe, I can’t leave—“

“What if he hurts them again?” Her voice lowered, cracking with sorrow and fear. “You have to, Sean.”

His heart clenched as if it wanted to rip in two.
I can’t, I can’t! But I have to.
“What if you die?”

“I’m not going to die.” Her eyes grew soft. Sleepy. She yawned. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“You promise?” Standing, he caressed her cheek and she turned into his palm, warm skin, warm breath, the lightest touch of her lips.
Oh, Mare!

“I promise,” she whispered against his skin.

He pulled his hand away and kissed her. He murmured, “I love you, Mare Knudsen,” against her lips.

“Love you, Sean Casey.”

He eased away from her lips to look into her eyes. “Then marry me. Promise me you will.”

She looked into his eyes for a long time. “What if I die?”

“What if you live? Just be my wife. For real.”

She almost hadn’t dated him because she knew he’d wanted kids. Almost hadn’t made love with him. Moved in with him. Bought a house with him. For eight long years she’d dodged his proposals. She’d said being married didn’t matter. But it did. It mattered to
him
. And, whether she wanted to admit it or not, he’d seen her browsing history on the computer. Wedding gowns. Flowers. Trips to warm, beachy places.

Despite her protests, it mattered to her, too.

A tear leaked from one eye. “It’s not fair. You’re not fair.”

He wiped it away. “Screw fair. I’m not leaving until you promise.”

“But you want—“

“Screw my wants. Doesn’t matter, Mare. Not anymore. I love you. Just marry me already.”

She stared at him, her lip quivering, and at last she nodded. “Only if I live.”

He grinned. “Fair enough.”

She grinned back. “And I want to go to an island. With a beach. And an ocean. For at least a weekend.”

“We’ll do a week, maybe two.”