Genesis Read Online Free Page A

and out of the picture." Faith didn't seem embarrassed by the
information, though Sara supposed that there wasn't much that could
embarrass you after having a child at fifteen. "I'd prefer Will didn't
know," Faith said. "He's very—" She stopped mid-sentence. She
closed her eyes, pressed her lips together. A sheen of sweat had broken
out on her forehead.
    Sara pressed her fingers to Faith's wrist again. "What's happening
here?"
    Faith clenched her jaw, not answering.
    Sara had been vomited on enough to know the warning signs. She
went to the sink to wet a paper towel, telling Faith, "Take a deep
breath and let it out slowly."
    Faith did as she was told, her lips trembling.
    "Have you been irritable lately?"
    Despite her condition, Faith tried for levity. "More than usual?"
She put her hand to her stomach, suddenly serious. "Yes. Nervous.
Annoyed." She swallowed. "I get a buzzing in my head, like there are
bees in my brain."
    Sara pressed the cold paper towel to the woman's forehead. "Any
nausea?"
    "In the mornings," Faith managed. "I thought it was morning
sickness, but . . ."
    "What about the headaches?"
    "They're pretty bad, mostly in the afternoon."
    "Have you been unusually thirsty? Urinating a lot?"
    "Yes. No. I don't know." She managed to open her eyes, asking,
"So, what is it—the flu or brain cancer or what?"
    Sara sat on the edge of the bed and took the woman's hand.
    "Oh, God, is it that bad?" Before Sara could answer, she said,
"Doctors and cops only sit down when it's bad news."
    Sara wondered how she had missed this revelation. In all her years
with Jeffrey Tolliver, she'd thought she had figured out every one of
his tics, but this one had passed her by. She told Faith, "I was married
to a cop for fifteen years. I never noticed, but you're right—my husband
always sat down when there was bad news."
    "I've been a cop for fifteen years," Faith responded. "Did he cheat
on you or turn into an alcoholic?"
    Sara felt a lump in her throat. "He was killed three and a half years
ago."
    "Oh, no," Faith gasped, putting her hand to her chest. "I'm so
sorry."
    "It's all right," Sara answered, wondering why she'd even told the
woman such a personal detail. Her life over the last few years had
been dedicated to not talking about Jeffrey, and here she was sharing
him with a stranger. She tried to ease the tension by adding, "You're
right. He cheated on me, too." At least he had the first time Sara married
him.
    "I'm so sorry," Faith repeated. "Was he on duty?"
    Sara didn't want to answer her. She felt nauseated and overwhelmed,
probably a lot like Faith had felt before she'd passed out in
the parking lot.
    Faith picked up on this. "You don't have to—"
    "Thanks."
    "I hope they got the bastard."
    Sara put her hand into her pocket, her fingers wrapping around
the edge of the letter. That was the question everyone wanted answered: Did they get him? Did they catch the bastard who killed your husband? As if it mattered. As if the disposition of Jeffrey's killer would
somehow alleviate the pain of his death.
    Mercifully, Mary came into the room. "Sorry," the nurse apologized.
"The old lady's kids just dropped her here. I had to call social
services." She handed Sara a piece of paper. "CMP's back."
    Sara frowned as she read the numbers on the metabolic profile.
"Do you have your monitor?"
    Mary reached into her pocket and handed over her blood glucose
monitor.
    Sara swabbed some alcohol on the tip of Faith's finger. The CMP
was incredibly accurate, but Grady was a large hospital and it wasn't
unheard of for the lab to get samples mixed up. "When was the last
time you had a meal?" she asked Faith.
    "We were in court all day." Faith hissed "Shit" as the lancet
pierced her finger, then continued, "Around noon, I ate part of a
sticky bun Will got out of the vending machine."
    Sara tried again. "The last real meal."
    "Around eight o'clock last night."
    Sara guessed from the guilty look on Faith's