Part Ninety
When George awoke very early on the Saturday morning, she knew that sleep would now be very allusive for her. She had been haunted by broken dreams all night, and now that she was finally awake, rest would be a thing of the past. John was still sound asleep, taking comfort in the fact that she was supposedly sleeping beside him. George hated having to leave him, but she knew that it had to be done, and while he wasn't about to stop her. Slipping silently out of bed, she put on her clothes, and walked into the lounge to find something to write on. Seeing that his computer was resting in stand by, she moved over to it and clicked away the screen saver.
"John," She wrote on the keyboard. "I needed last night more than you will ever know, both the hearing of your reasons for sleeping with Connie, as well as what came after. But now I need some time, time to sort myself out, and to deal with that thing I can't discuss with you, which I promise you isn't a pregnancy. I need you to allow me this time apart from you, because having your reaction to cope with as well as my own would be far too difficult. Jo will never find out from me about Connie, because that would only cause problems that neither of us need. I have always tried to forgive and forget your series of female transgressions, because I know that to beg you not to do something again, is the quickest way to persuade you to go against my wishes. But this time is different. I am finding it hard to forgive, and even harder to forget seeing you looking quite so good with Connie. You've got no idea just how beautiful the two of you were, and that reminded me with all the finesse of a punch to the jaw, that I am ten years older than her, and not nearly so attractive.
I'm only going to ask one thing of you, something I expect you to fulfil. Please go and see Jo this evening, no matter what the rules of trial procedure may be. She is cracking at the seams at the moment, and a little support is the very least you owe her.
I love you,
George."
After saving it on the computer to make sure he didn't lose it accidentally, though still leaving it on the screen, George picked up her handbag, and after stroking a soundly sleeping Mimi, who had moved from her basket to a corner of the sofa, George let herself quietly out of the front door. The streets were icy as she drove carefully home, and the dark of the early morning almost seemed to be closing in on her. George was glad when she reached home, and let herself in quietly through the front door. The house was silent around her, but she could still feel Kay's presence, still be preternaturally aware of someone else in the space that was usually her own. Kay had put a guard around the dying fire when she'd gone to bed, and now George removed it, putting on another log to bring the still smouldering embers back to a warm, healthy blaze. She was quiet as she made herself some coffee, as it was only just after five-thirty, and she didn't want to waken Kay whose bedroom was directly above the kitchen. When she sat down on the sofa with her coffee, and the crackling logs bathing her in their warmth, the exhaustion of the day before swept over her. It felt so long since she'd had a proper night's sleep, the dormant hours haunted by the fear of what may eventually happen to her, coupled with John's and Jo's reactions to what she now realised was probably the inevitable. Putting the mug of steaming coffee down on the table in front of her, George leaned back into the corner of the sofa, just for a moment allowing her eyes to close.
When Kay came downstairs at around eight o'clock for a cup of tea, she found George, still in the lounge, asleep at one end of the sofa. George was slightly shivering as the fire had died down in the last couple of hours. Lightly touching George's shoulder, Kay called her name, but George didn't stir. Calling her name slightly louder, Kay gently shook her. George's eyes opened, and she gazed blearily up at Kay, not immediately recognising her. "George, talk to me," Kay encouraged her, not liking the distinct lack of life in George's eyes, but she didn't respond. "George, you need to wake up," Kay told her firmly, but only getting a mumbled groan for a reply. Taking into account George's general thinness, together with the fact that she didn't know if George had eaten yesterday, Kay was forced to wonder if her blood sugar was low. Running quickly back upstairs, she retrieved a blood glucose testing kit from her medical bag, and grabbed a blanket from the warmth of the airing cupboard. George was still slumped in the corner of the sofa, and her eyes had drifted closed again. Wrapping the blanket snugly around her, Kay took one of her hands and pricked a finger, allowing the drop of blood to fall onto the paper strip that came with the kit. George's blood sugar level was 3.2, a little below the lower end of a recommended level of glucose. Well, now at least she knew what the problem was. Going into the kitchen, Kay searched for anything that was sweet and instantly available, but anything resembling either squash or lemonade was either diet, or with the added logo of 'No Added Sugar.' Mixing some honey in hot water, and then adding a little cold to make it drinkable, Kay returned to where George was still soundly sleeping. "George, I need you to wake up and drink this," Kay told her firmly. George slowly opened her eyes, and Kay held the mug to her lips. "George, drink it, damn you," Kay insisted, now more than a little worried about her. As George coughed on the liquid that was filling her mouth, Kay gently massaged her throat, ensuring that she would swallow it. The shock of being forced to drink something seemed to wake her up a little, making her vision begin to clear. After drinking all that was in the cup, George asked groggily, "What happened?" "Your blood sugar was quite low," Kay informed her. "Which meant that I couldn't wake you up." "Oh, god, I'm sorry," George replied, feeling an utter fool. "Did you eat at all yesterday?" Kay asked quietly, wondering just how big a can of worms she was opening by asking this. George looked at everything but Kay, the barely crackling fire, the piano, and eventually back to Kay. "I'll take that as a no," Kay said philosophically. "Smoking isn't my only addictive vice," George said quietly. "You suffer from anorexia," Kay replied, putting George's euphemism into its all too clinical form. George winced. "I positively loathe that word," She said vehemently. "But I don't understand. I've stopped eating for far longer than this before, and become far thinner than I am now, and yet I've never felt quite like that before. I fainted in court once, but that was nothing like this." "When was the last time you ate?" Kay asked her, trying to work out this little quandary. "Thursday evening, Jo was here, you ate with us." "Do you have any underlying health problems that might affect your blood glucose and haemoglobin levels?" What little colour George's face had, immediately drained away. So, that little bundle of cells was affecting other things now, was it? "Tell me," Kay encouraged, wanting to help her as much as she possibly could. "I, erm, I have a lump in my breast." George brought the words out with such difficulty that Kay could tell this was the first time she had actually uttered them. "How long have you had it?" Kay asked gently, her original vocation slipping back into place like a hand to a glove. "I found it at Christmas," George told her, wondering a little ironically if John was about to sleep with this confidante as well. "And has it grown?" "Yes," George replied, turning her face away from Kay because she knew what question was about to come. "Have you done anything about it?" "No, not yet. There simply hasn't been time," George insisted quickly before Kay could remonstrate with her. "I've had Barbara's trial to prepare for, plus god knows how many other cases to keep me quiet. Jo isn't coping especially well with this case because it reminds her of when her husband was terminally ill, and I know that she's started drinking too much because of that, and I'm so scared of either of them finding it that I'm finding it virtually impossible to sleep with either of them, because I couldn't handle either of them demanding explanations that I don't know how to give." All these words had come out in a rush, the last couple of statements bringing exhausted tears with them. Kay put her arms round George, not a gesture she usually bestowed on anyone, but there was so much pain and confusion in George's tone that she found it was purely instinctive to try and comfort her. "I think you're exhausted," She said when George began to calm down, realising that only the immediate problems could be addressed at this point. "What time did you get in? I didn't hear you." "About five-thirty," George replied, lifting a hand to cover a yawn. "John was still asleep when I left him." "How did it go?" Kay asked, trying to rub some warmth into George's shoulders. "Trust me, if you ever catch a lover just after they've had someone else, don't ever ask them why they did it, because you'll get far more than you ever bargained for. Well, if they're anything like John you will anyway. God, if I think I don't look up to much now, that's nothing to how I'll look if they have to take my breast away." "It's far too early to be talking about things like that," Kay told her gently, realising that this was what was at the heart of George's delay in seeking treatment. "For now, I think you should have something to eat, and then go to sleep for a few hours, and we'll talk about everything else later." "I'm sorry," George said as she dragged herself up from the sofa. "You didn't come over here to deal with all my problems as well as Barbara's." "George, I'm a doctor, and I want to help you in any way I can."
No matter what she did that day, Kay's thoughts kept returning to George's problem. Why had she delayed so long in seeking treatment for it? And why hadn't she even told anyone of its existence? Of course, she thought disgustedly to herself, the answer to all this was plain and simple fear, fear of the strongest kind, fear that could make the most sensible people do the stupidest things. After sleeping for about three hours, George had closeted herself in her home office, saying that she had a week's worth of work to catch up on, but Kay privately thought that she was hiding from her admission of that morning. Kay was contented to sit in front of the open log fire, compiling notes for a couple of lectures she was due to give in the coming week. The weather was terrible outside, with the wind and rain pounding against the windows, making any thought of venturing out there completely redundant. In the middle of the afternoon, George popped her head out to inform Kay that a load of body diagrams had just arrived on her fax machine. "Oh, good," Kay said, getting up and going towards the office. "I asked Marino to fax me a copy of the file for the case we're working on back home. I thought I might usefully take some time to go over it. You never know when inspiration might strike." Collecting the thick wad of paper together, Kay went back into the lounge and began spreading it out on the coffee table in order of victim. There were copies of photographs, autopsy reports, tentative psychological profiles, and death certificates, far too much of it in her own handwriting.
When she had been working on this for about an hour, trying to piece together the far too frightening jigsaw, the phone rang. Seeing the cordless lying on the sofa, Kay reached over and picked it up. George had heard it ring through the open door of her office, and was greatly relieved that it wasn't anyone for her. She didn't especially feel in the mood for communicating with anyone today. Kay's presence might once have irritated her whilst she was in such a frame of mind, but now she simply found her company restful, unintrusive, and in a way slightly comforting. The caller was Lucy, and George did her best to ignore Kay's side of the conversation, not wanting to intrude. But when she heard Kay's exclamation of half anger, half horror, her eyes widened in surprise. "Lucy Farinelli, don't you dare think of doing something quite so stupid!" George couldn't help it, she was now incredibly curious. "I mean it, Lucy," Kay continued. "I more than anybody want to catch this maniac, but I do not want you setting yourself up to look like me, in order to try and catch him in the act. I might want this killer under lock and key, but I don't want you dead to achieve that!" Now George was really intrigued, though from what Kay had said, it was perfectly obvious what she was objecting to.
After Kay had put the phone down, managing to calm down and finally have a civil conversation with her niece, George left her work for a while and went to make some coffee. Automatically making Kay a cup as well, she took them both into the lounge. Trying to clear a little room on the coffee table for the mugs, George picked up a rather gruesome-looking photograph. "What on earth is that?" She asked, holding it up for Kay to see. Momentarily glancing at it, Kay replied, "It's a somewhat magnified map of the severed veins and arteries inside the neck of a woman whose throat was cut." Screwing up her face in disgust, George put the photograph back on the table. "Rather you than me," She said, averting her eyes from the rest of the horrors laid out before her. "It might be next time," Kay said a little thoughtfully. "Oh, god, Kay, I didn't mean..." George said, sounding utterly horrified. "I know you didn't," Kay said with a reassuring smile. Then, turning serious again, she added, "Lucy wants to make herself look like me, and let it be known that I'm back in the country, in order to set a trap for the killer. I'm the one he's really after, and he can't keep finding women who just happen to bear a significant resemblance to me. It terrifies me when she comes up with highly dangerous schemes like this, but I've hopefully managed to talk her out of that one. If any traps are going to be set for this evil little bastard, I'd far rather be the bait myself." "I don't think I could ever do anything like that," George said slightly in awe. "I didn't think I could at one time, when I was going through med school in Baltimore. I knew that I wanted to go into forensic pathology, but I never suspected that I might one day be putting myself in the type of danger that I sometimes do. I've lost count of the times that Marino has slept on my couch, in an attempt to act as my bodyguard. When I first arrived in Richmond, he did everything to wind me up, because he wasn't used to a woman having jurisdiction over parts of his cases. He used to routinely borrow evidence, and forget to send me reports and photographs just to annoy me. But his having to shoot a serial strangler in my bedroom one night, seemed to change his mind about me."
Lighting herself a cigarette, George thoughtfully looked at Kay and her work. This woman was used to putting herself in harm's way purely to acquire answers and to achieve justice, something she knew that John would be infinitely impressed by. "George," Kay said carefully, beginning to gather her papers together. "About what you told me this morning. Why haven't you seen anyone about it?" Kay felt that this was a somewhat clumsy way to ask, but she was trying to tread very carefully around George's highly-strung state of fear. George watched her guardedly. "Part of me wishes I hadn't told you," She couldn't help admitting. "Because in actually voicing it, putting it into words, has made it all the more real." "You can't hide from it forever," Kay told her gently. "And that's what you've been doing by working so hard, isn't it." "Probably," George replied a little shame facedly. "But it's sometimes ridiculously easy to put off the inevitable." "You're doing exactly what I did after Benton died, well, after I thought he'd died," Kay told her, lighting a cigarette of her own. "For about eighteen months, until Diane Bray began to make her presence felt, I did nothing but work. I went to crime scene after crime scene, because dealing with other people's grief was far easier than dealing with my own. Not even Marino could get anywhere near me, and Lucy didn't even try. You se, both she and Marino knew that Benton was still alive." "Oh my god," George said in astonishment, taking a sip of her coffee. "And yet they kept it from you?" "They had to," Kay said succinctly. "To keep Benton safe, and so that the Chandonne cartel would come out into the open, thinking they were safe from his ever catching up with them. I was so angry with Benton when I found out that he was still alive, I don't think I've ever been angrier. I remember standing half way up the stairs in the Chandonne house in Baton Rouge, and seeing Benton standing below me in the middle of the cavernous hall. I couldn't believe what I was seeing at first, and I remember sitting down at the bottom of the stairs because I thought I might faint." "I'm not surprised," George said ruefully. "My first rational thought was that Benton was somehow on their side, which utterly terrified me. But when he began to explain, so many things began to make sense, Lucy's throwing herself into work just as I had done, and Marino getting drunk on Christmas Day because he'd discovered a file Benton had kept full of important documents before his death. Lucy, Marino and I were all about as dysfunctional as each other during that time. I was because I didn't know how to grieve, and Lucy and Marino because they knew I was still bitterly hurting for a man who was still living." "Karen did that after her son died," George said quietly, thinking that this must be the chosen path for all seriously professional women, herself and Jo included. "Karen as in Larkhall's Governor?" Kay asked, having met so many knew people in the last week or so. "Yes. Her twenty-two-year-old son died last July. He'd been in drugs rehab but Karen didn't know. She only found out after he'd killed himself. She went back to work only a week after he'd died." "Just like I did after Benton's death." "She did nothing but work, staying there till god knows what time in the evening, and covering any shifts if they were short staffed. Anyway, it all came to a head a few weeks later, when one of her favourite inmates was found on the hospital wing roof with a razor blade. So, Karen being the stupidly brave angel that she is, went up on the roof to talk Denny down. John was there and he saw every minute of it. He told me afterwards that she went up there with as little thought for her safety as she might if it had been two feet from the ground instead of fifty. You're very much like her in a way, both putting your work before everything else, even when it means putting yourselves at severe risk." "But isn't that what you're doing?" Kay asked, her talking about Benton having clearly been used to lull George into a false sense of security. When George didn't answer, Kay continued. "You've thrown yourself into this trial, and god knows how many others, to give yourself as little thinking time as possible. Only it hasn't really worked, has it." "No," George said quietly. "What is it that you're so afraid of?" Kay asked, though she thought she could hazard a guess. Seeming to think about how to word this for a moment or two, George attempted a reply. "I'm terrified of how much they might have to take away, and of how that will make me look afterwards. Connie Beauchamp looked so flawless, so absolutely perfect, and I can't help thinking that if the worst happens and I do lose a breast, that John won't even be able to look at me, never mind want to make love to me. I know it sounds terribly stupid, but I know just how much female beauty has always meant to him."