It had been all she could do to stay in control in the crypt.
Her hands went involuntarily to her stomach. Her barren stomach, that could never grow a child. That someone had torn a baby from that poor woman and left her dead, thrown away like trash, made Lucy ill. It wasn’t seeing her on the slab, it was the pictures in the file Dr. Vasquez had handed her. Photos of the girl’s womb, cut up, ripped apart, left for garbage. Whoever did this was evil. Lucy didn’t throw that word around, but this time it fit. It was a heinous crime, and for what? To sell the baby? A premature baby who needed medical attention?
Lucy leaned against the cool tile wall as waves of nausea washed through her. She’d assisted in hundreds of autopsies, including the autopsies of three infants, one of whom had died of shaken baby syndrome and was by far the worst autopsy she’d witnessed. She’d had a similar reaction then, at the tragic, unnecessary death of another human because of the selfish wants of someone else.
She had to move, but she was rooted in place. She squeezed back her anguish.
Come on, Lucy. You are a professional.
Just one more minute!
She leaned over the sink and splashed more water on her face, then leaned forward and let another wave of nausea pass. Okay, she was better. She had to be. She had a job to do.
She would find Jane Doe’s killer.
She would find Jane Doe’s baby.
She finally regained her strength and left the restroom. She walked right into Noah.
He stared at her. She couldn’t read his expression.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I just needed a minute.”
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “That was hard to hear. I was surprised at how … indifferent you seemed. But I knew it was an act. I know you, Lucy. You can’t keep all that bottled up. Did you think I would think less of you if you reacted?”
“No.” Maybe. “I had to control it, Noah. If I broke down there, over her body, I wouldn’t be able to do my job. To see what needed to be seen.”
“Lucy, we’ve been friends for a long time. You know you can trust me. If you ever need to walk away, it’s okay.”
She nodded. “I trust you, Noah. I don’t say that easily, but I do trust you. I am okay. I want to find these people in the worst way, but I can do the job.”
“Dr. Vasquez took Siobhan in; you don’t have to go back.”
“I should be there for her.”
“Think about yourself sometimes, okay?”
Noah dropped his hand, and that’s when Lucy realized he’d been holding on to her for the last few minutes. As if he, too, needed to be grounded before he could move on. “How are you doing?” she asked as they walked back to the lobby.
He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight.”
Siobhan stepped out of the crypt, silent tears running down her cheeks. “That’s the girl from Sunday. Dear Lord.” She crossed herself. “Lucy, I killed her.”
“You did not kill her, Siobhan.”
“I went there, I upset her—the doctor said she had a seizure caused by high blood pressure—I set her off. She was screaming at me—”
“Ma’am, I don’t believe that’s the case,” Vasquez said, and Lucy mentally thanked him. “Preeclampsia is a very serious, very dangerous condition. That girl should have been under a doctor’s care as soon as it was diagnosed—if it was diagnosed. No one caused it, but whoever delivered her baby killed her in the process. Not you.”
*
It was time to leave.
Marisol couldn’t stay here, not when her sister was in such danger. Angelo would be coming soon, and she didn’t want the Honeycutts to be in the middle of any of this. These people were dangerous. Angelo would help her rescue Ana and then they could go home.
For the first time in two years she believed she would see her family again. Her village.
George and Nadia didn’t want her to go.
Marisol didn’t want to leave, either. Rarely had she met two genuinely kind souls, certainly not in the last two years. George and Nadia restored her faith in God, restored her hope that she would survive.
“Wait until John comes back,” Nadia said. “He said he would be back tonight, after work. For dinner.”
She shook her head. “Angelo is meeting me. You have done so much already.”
“Wait until morning. Please, stay one more night.”
She wanted to. Nadia reminded Marisol of her grandmother. Last night, she’d told Nadia some of what had happened to her and Ana. When Nadia hugged her, Marisol had cried. She hadn’t cried in years, but she cried last night.
Today, she was stronger.
“Angelo knows what to do. These people are very dangerous, I don’t want you hurt.”
Nadia frowned. “Nonsense, Marisol. You need to let someone help you. There are good people in this world.”
She smiled. When was the last time she’d smiled? “You and Mr. Honeycutt are two of the kindest people I’ve met. But Angelo can help me get my sister back.”