Неизвестный - 2. Beyond The Breakwater

“Is it a risk to the baby?” Reese asked.

Wendy continued in a steady, calm tone. “Sometimes if the maternal-fetal blood flow is compromised, there can be intrauterine growth restriction.”

“And to Tory?” Reese’s voice was even and strong, but there was a roaring in her head that sounded like gunfire.

“Only if the condition progresses,” Wendy said. “But we’re nowhere near that point, Reese. I’m not even willing to call it preeclampsia at this point, but we need to be vigilant.”

“I’m already taking my blood pressure three times a day,” Tory said quietly. “The diastolic has only risen ten points above my baseline. I’ve checked my urine daily for protein. There hasn’t been any.”

“I’ll need to see you every two weeks,” Wendy said. “Keep monitoring your BP and urine the way you’ve been doing, and add a fingerstick hemoglobin every ten days. Call me at the slightest sign of symptoms. Even if you’re not sure.”

“What about working?” Reese questioned. “Is it safe?”

Wendy nodded. “Reasonable hours, yes, as long as we don’t see any worsening.”

“Don’t worry,” Tory said. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Then I’m satisfied.” Wendy stood and smiled at them both. “I’ll call you with the lab results as soon as I have them.”

Reese was silent as Tory dressed.

“There’s nothing wrong, sweetheart,” Tory said as she took Reese’s hand.

“I know,” Reese said with a smile, but her eyes were dark. She drew a long breath and straightened her shoulders. “Is it okay for you to eat now?”

“It had better be,” Tory said with a laugh. “First of all, I’m starving. And I’m sure Cath expects us all to go to lunch.”

Reese slid her arm around Tory’s waist and kissed her temple lightly, ignoring the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Then let’s not keep her waiting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

May, Provincetown, MA

“Things will start jumping around here at the end of the week,” Reese remarked at a little before 6:00 a.m. as she poured the French roast from the carafe into a travel mug. She was already in uniform, dressed for work. As always, the creases in her shirt and pants were knife-edge sharp, the knot below her buttoned collar perfectly squared, her leather belt a polished black. Her weapon was nestled in an equally highly-shined holster on her right hip.

“Uh-huh.”

Reese smiled as Tory, still in the T-shirt she usually slept in—and not much else—crossed the living room. Her normally energetic lover looked sleepy and out of sorts. “Want some juice?”

“No,” Tory snarled, settling a hip onto a stool at the breakfast counter. “I want some coffee.”

“I’ll make decaf.”

“I don’t want decaf. I want real …” Abruptly she quieted as her face grew pale.

“Bagel? I can toast—”

“Oh god…” Tory bolted off the stool.

Heart in her throat, Reese watched Tory rush for the bathroom. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed, her insides roiling. This hasn’t happened in weeks. Jesus, god…what’s wrong?

“Tor? Love…can I get you anything?” Reese circled her palm aimlessly over Tory’s back as the other woman cradled her head on her arms, her body bent over the sink. Reese’s heart lurched as she felt Tory tremble. “Honey?”

“No,” Tory gasped, not looking at her. “I’m fine. Near miss—no eruptions.”

“Water?”

“Yes, fine. Good.” With a shaky sigh, Tory straightened up and accepted the glass her worried lover filled and handed to her. She traced the curve of Reese’s jaw with her fingers, smiling faintly. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mmm. I am.”

Reese said carefully, “Shouldn’t we check your blood pressure?”

Tory was silent a long minute, reluctant to add to her lover’s worry. I want this experience to be a joy for her, not a constant source of anxiety.

“It was just a little blip, sweetheart,” Tory said softly.

“I need to be part of this, Tor. Please.”

Tory’d never seen Reese look so helpless, and her heart twisted to see the pleading in her eyes. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you how to take it.”

Reese was a quick study, and five minutes later they looked at one another and smiled.

“No change since my last visit with Wendy,” Tory reported. “Okay now?”

Reese nodded. “Can you eat something?”

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.” Tory wrapped her arm around Reese and leaned into her. “You should get to work.”

“I’m okay for a bit. You need to eat something. The doctor said—”

“I’m a doctor.” Tory heard the temper in her own voice and realized that Reese was just concerned. In fact, she still looks scared. I never thought I’d see anything that could shake up my Marine. “Try not to worry, sweetheart. It was just a bit of left over morning sickness.”

Reese came quickly around the end of the counter and put her arms around her lover. Brushing her lips across Tory’s temple, she said gently, “The most important thing for right now is that you’re okay.”

“As long as I have you, I will be.” Tory tilted her face and kissed Reese, a gentle lingering kiss of gratitude and soft desire. When she drew away, her throat was tight with a combination of wonder and need. “Go to work, Sheriff.”

“I’ll call you later,” Reese whispered, her lips to Tory’s forehead. “I love you.”

Reese was just pulling into the small lot behind the Sheriff’s department when the call came over her radio. The alarm sounded in front of the Fire Department in the middle of town at the same time.

“Fire reported, Bradford and 6A.”

It was Smith’s voice, and as Reese spun the wheel with one hand and floored the accelerator, she flicked her shoulder mike with the other. “Conlon. I’ve got it.”

“Roger, Reese.”

The whole of Provincetown was less than four miles long, and, sandwiched between the Atlantic Ocean and Cape Cod Bay, even narrower. At that time of morning, just before tourist season, there were barely any cars, and Reese was on scene in less than a minute. The Mooring restaurant, a squat, sprawling ramshackle place at the far end of town, was in flames. She pulled her cruiser diagonally across Bradford and got out, thumbing her mike again.

“I need another car out here to block traffic coming west on 6.” As she spoke, she opened the trunk of the vehicle and extracted orange plastic road cones.

“How does it look?” she called to the fire captain as he approached. Alan Peterson was technically in charge of the scene.

“It’s pretty well involved,” he yelled above the roar of the truck engine and the shouts of milling firefighters. “Fortunately, the place is isolated from the surrounding structures by the parking lot on three sides. Unless we get an awful lot of wind, I’m not worried about it spreading.”

“What about civilians?” Reese asked, leaning close to his ear to be heard. “Can your people get inside to make sure the place is empty?”

“Negative.” He spoke something unintelligible into his handy talkie and then turned his attention back to her. “Too hot.”

Reese took a step away from him in the direction of the burning building. She was stopped by a firm grip on her arm.

“Forget it, Sheriff,” he said gruffly. “If there were any way in there, we would have done it already. I don’t want you anywhere near that place. Christ, last time you helped me out, you ended up in the hospital.”

“You’re not pulling rank on me, are you, Alan?”

“Damn right I am. As soon as I get an internal assessment, you’ll be the first to know.”