Karin Slaughter - A Faint Cold Fear

“It’s faint,” Sara said, feeling her stomach lurch at the depth of the lie. She made herself look Tessa in the eye, taking her hand, saying, “The heartbeat is faint, but I can hear it.”

Tessa’s right hand lifted to feel her stomach, but Jeffrey stopped her. He looked down at her palm.

“What’s this?” Jeffrey asked. “Tessa? What’s this in your hand?”

He held up Tessa’s hand so she could see what he meant. A look of confusion came to her face as the plastic fluttered in the breeze.

“Did you get it from him?” Jeffrey asked. “The person who attacked you?”

“Jeffrey,” Sara said, her voice low. His shirt had soaked through with blood, covering his hand to the wrist. He saw what she meant and started to take off his undershirt but she told him no, grabbing his coat because it was quicker.

Tessa groaned at the momentary change in pressure, air hissing out between her teeth.

“Tess?” Sara asked loudly, taking her sister’s hand again. “Are you holding up okay?”

Tessa gave a tight nod, her lips pressed together, nostrils flaring as she labored to breathe. She squeezed Sara’s hand so hard that Sara felt the bones move.

Sara asked, “You’re not having trouble breathing, right?” Tessa did not respond, but her eyes were alert, darting from Jeffrey to Sara.

Sara tried to keep the fear out of her voice, repeating, “Are you breathing all right?” If Tessa became incapable of breathing on her own, Sara could do only so much to help her.

Jeffrey’s voice was tight and controlled. “Sara?” His hand was tensed over Tessa’s belly. “It felt like a contraction.”

Sara shook her head in a quick no, putting her hand next to Jeffrey’s. She could feel uterine contractions.

Sara raised her voice, asking, “Tessa? Are you feeling more pain down here? Pelvic pain?”

Tessa did not answer, but her teeth chattered as if she were cold.

“I’m going to check for dilation, okay?” Sara warned, lifting Tessa’s dress. Blood and fluid covered Tessa’s thighs in a sticky black matt. Sara pressed her fingers into the canal. The body’s reaction to any trauma was to tense up, and Tessa’s was doing just that. Sara felt as if she were putting her hand into a vise.

“Try to relax,” Sara told Tessa, feeling for the cervix. Sara’s obstetrics rotation had been years ago, and even the reading she’d done lately in preparation for the birth was sorely lacking.

Still, Sara told her, “You’re fine. You’re doing fine.”

Jeffrey said, “I felt it again.”

Sara cut him with a look, willing him to be quiet. She had felt the contraction, too, but there was nothing they could do about it. Even if there was a chance that the baby was alive, a cesarean section in this setting would kill Tessa. If the knife had cut through her uterus, she would bleed out before they reached the hospital.

“That’s good,” Sara said, pulling out Tessa’s hand. “You’re not dilated. Everything is okay. All right, Tess? Everything’s okay.”

Tessa’s lips still moved, but the only sound she made was the sharp pant of her breathing. She was hyperventilating, throwing herself into hypocapnia.

“Slow down, sweetie,” Sara said, putting her face close to Tessa’s. “Try to slow down your breathing, okay?”

Sara showed her, breathing in deeply, letting it go slowly, thinking all the time that they had done this same thing in Lamaze class weeks ago.

“That’s right,” Sara said as Tessa’s breathing started to slow. “Nice and slow.”

Sara had a moment’s relief but then every muscle in Tessa’s face tensed up at once. Tessa’s head started to tremble, and Sara’s hand then her arm absorbed the vibration like a tuning fork. A gurgling noise came from Tessa’s lips, and then a thin stream of clear liquid dribbled out. Her eyes were still glassy, her stare blank and cold.

Sara kept her voice low, asking Frank, “What’s the ETA on the ambulance?”

“Shouldn’t be much longer,” Frank said.

“Tessa,” Sara said, making her voice stern, threatening. She had not talked to her sister this way since Tessa was twelve and wanted to do a somersault off the roof of the house. “Tessa, hold on. Hold on just a little bit longer. Listen to me. Hold on. I’m telling you to—”

Tessa’s body gave a sudden, violent jerk, her jaw clamping tight, eyes rolling back in her head, guttural sounds coming from her throat. The seizure erupted with frightening intensity, working through Tessa’s body like a current of electricity.

Sara tried to use her body as a barrier so Tessa would not hurt herself more. Tessa shook uncontrollably, grunting, her eyes rolling. Her bladder released, the smell of her urine strongly acidic. Her jaw was clenched so tight that the muscles in her neck stood out like steel cords.

Sara heard the whir of an engine in the distance, then the distinctive chopping of a helicopter’s blades. When the air ambulance hovered overhead before circling toward the riverbed, Sara felt tears stinging her eyes.

“Hurry,” she whispered. “Please hurry.”

2

Jeffrey could see Sara through the window of the helicopter as it lifted into the air. She was holding Tessa’s hand to her chest, head bent down as if in prayer. Neither he nor Sara had ever been particularly religious, but Jeffrey found himself thinking a prayer to anyone who would listen, begging for Tessa to be okay. He kept watching Sara, kept silently praying, until the helicopter made a wide right turn, angling over the tree line. The farther away it got, the less easily the words came to mind, so that by the time the machine turned west toward Atlanta, all he felt was anger and helplessness.

Jeffrey looked down at the thin white strip of plastic he’d found clutched in Tessa’s hand. He had peeled it off her palm before they loaded her into the helicopter, hoping that perhaps it would lead them to the person who had attacked her. Staring at it now, he felt a crushing sense of hopelessness bearing down on him. Both he and Sara had touched the plastic. There were no obvious fingerprints in the blood. There was no telling if it even had anything to do with the attack.

“Chief?” Frank handed Jeffrey his suit jacket and shirt, both of which were dripping with blood.

“Jesus,” Jeffrey said, extracting his police badge and wallet. They were as soaked as his clothes. He found an evidence bag and sealed the plastic strip inside, asking, “What the hell happened?”

Frank held out his hands, speechless.

The gesture irritated Jeffrey, and he bit back the cutting comment that came to mind, knowing that what had happened to Tessa Linton was not Frank’s fault. If anything, it was Jeffrey’s. He had been standing with his thumb up his ass less than a hundred yards away when Tessa had been attacked; he’d known something was wrong when Tessa was not at the car, and he should have insisted on going with Sara to look for her.

He tucked the bag into his pants pocket, asking, “Where are Lena and Matt?”

Frank flipped open his cell phone.

“No,” Jeffrey told him. The worst thing that could happen to Matt in the middle of the forest was to have his phone ring. “Give them ten minutes.” He glanced at his watch, not sure how much time had already passed. “If they’re not out by then, we’ll go look for them.”

“Right.”

Jeffrey dropped his clothes on the ground, resting his wallet and badge on top. He continued, “Call the station. Get six units out here.”

Frank started to dial in the number, asking, “You want to cut the witness loose?”

“No,” Jeffrey told him. Without another word he started down the hill toward the parked cars.

He tried to get his thoughts together as he walked. Sara had felt there was something suspicious about the suicide. Tessa’s being stabbed in the immediate vicinity made that possibility even more likely. If the kid in the riverbed had been murdered, it was possible Tessa Linton had surprised his assailant in the woods.