“Is she okay?” Kozlowski asked. The concern in his voice was plain, but he was keeping it under control at least.
The doctor blinked at them. “Oh, I thought someone already talked to you about her condition.”
“Not really,” Finn said. “The woman who called said she thought Lissa would be okay, but that’s it.”
“Ah,” the doctor said. He took Finn by the elbow and led him discreetly over to the side of the corridor, as though it would give them some privacy. “I take it that you’re the boyfriend?” he said to Finn.
“No,” Finn said. He nodded to Kozlowski. “He is.”
The young doctor looked over at Kozlowski. His eyes showed his surprise, but to his credit he didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry,” he said. “Mr…?”
“Kozlowski.”
“Yes, Mr. Kozlowski, Lissa is going to be fine. We still don’t know about the baby, however.”
“What baby?” Finn asked.
Jeffson glanced at him, then said to Kozlowski. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Finn almost fell over. He looked at Kozlowski, wondering whether the news of the pregnancy would come as a surprise to him. It clearly didn’t, though he rocked backward at the mention. “What happened?” he asked.
“It appears that she was also hit in the abdomen. We don’t know whether it has caused any damage yet. It looks as though she’s around ten weeks; we’re going to run an ultrasound as soon as the equipment frees up. Then we’ll know more.”
“Okay.” Kozlowski looked stunned. “Is she conscious?”
“Yes, she woke up about twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t said much. The police wanted to interview her, but she said she was too tired; I got the impression she wanted to talk to you first, and she’s clearly worried about the pregnancy.”
“Can I see her?”
The doctor nodded toward a door down the hallway. “She’s in room 217. I’ll be in as soon as an ultrasound frees up.”
Lissa lay on the bed, both hands resting on her belly. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Any of it. Her head was killing her, and the fact that her thoughts were being pulled in multiple directions didn’t help any. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sally, and the worry was devastating. She had avoided the policeman’s eyes when he first tried to question her. She put her arm over her face and told him that she couldn’t concentrate. That was true. She also said she didn’t remember what happened. That was a lie. She had to lie, though. She needed more information before she involved the police. The Boston Police Department was a blunt instrument, and it wasn’t clear that that was what was needed at the moment.
She was so worried about her pregnancy that she felt sick. It was odd; she hadn’t wanted to get pregnant in the first place. When her doctor informed her that she was, she’d had mixed feelings. Now that it looked as though she might lose the baby, she couldn’t imagine not carrying to term-not having Kozlowski’s child. It made her feel paralyzed.
Kozlowski walked into the room. He came straight to her and took her hand. She worked to choke back tears.
“What happened?” he asked.
She rubbed the back of her free hand across her nose and sniffled. “It was him,” she said. “ Devon ’s Irish guy. Had to be. He took Sally.” A tear ran down her cheek.
Kozlowski nodded. “We heard from him. He said he’s going to kill her if he doesn’t get the paintings.”
“I figured. I was late picking her up. We were late. We fucked up. Maybe if I’d been there earlier…” Her voice trailed off.
“He still would have gotten to her,” Kozlowski said. “Think about what he did to Murphy and Ballick. This isn’t a guy who’s going to be stopped. Not yet.”
“I don’t want to think about what he’s done.”
Kozlowski said nothing for another moment. “How about you? You okay?”
“That’s what they say.” She looked down at her stomach. “They don’t know about the baby.”
“I talked to the doctor,” Kozlowski said. “The ultrasound will be freed up in a little bit. We won’t worry about it until then.”
“Right,” she said. “No point in worrying.” She looked up at him. He had the type of face that was difficult to read. Right now, though, his tension was plain. She squeezed his hand. “Maybe we were never meant to be parents,” she said.
“Maybe.” He looked out the window. The room faced to the south, out onto Route 93, which wound its way through Dorchester down toward the South Shore, toward the suburbs with their houses and their lawns and their picket fences. It was a world of domestic tranquillity neither of them knew or particularly wanted to know. And yet at the moment it was a world she envied with all her heart. “We’re still getting married, though,” he said after a moment.
“If the baby’s dead we don’t need to.”
He looked back at her. He wasn’t crying; she gave thanks for that. It wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t who she wanted him to be. “It’s not about need,” he said. “I want to.”
She took a deep breath, then nodded. The door opened, and Dr. Jeffson walked in with a nurse. He looked at them with the curiosity Lissa had seen on so many faces before; that wonder at the two of them together as a couple. She didn’t care. She knew what they were doing together; that was all that mattered. “The ultrasound is available,” he said. “Are you ready?”
Lissa looked up at Kozlowski and gave his hand another squeeze. “We are,” she said. “We’re ready.”
Finn was waiting downstairs in the lobby. He wondered whether he should have gone in to see Lissa. Normally there would have been no way to keep him out. There were few people more important in his life.
Nothing seemed normal anymore, though. He’d never felt like a third wheel with Lissa and Kozlowski until a few days before. They were a couple; he understood that. And yet they didn’t act like a couple. They didn’t cling to each other the way so many other couples did. Their relationship seemed built on stronger stuff than mutual dependence. As a result, his presence in the middle had never seemed to weaken it.
Things had changed. He had to give them a little more space now. When the doctor had pointed to her room and said that she could have visitors, Finn merely nodded to Kozlowski. “I’ll wait downstairs,” he’d said.
Kozlowski didn’t argue. Finn half expected Kozlowski to tell him to come in with him, just to make sure that she was all right. He hadn’t, though. “I’ll meet you down there in a little while,” he’d said. With that, he’d turned and walked down the hallway toward her room. Finn stood there for a moment, then headed toward the elevator.
He was sitting on a bench, trying to focus on Sally’s kidnapping, working through all the various ugly possibilities, when Kozlowski walked off the elevator forty-five minutes later.
Finn could tell nothing from Kozlowski’s face. The older man walked over to him, looked down. “We’ve got work to do,” he said.
Finn got up. “How is she?”
“She’s fine. They’re keeping her for a night, just to make sure.”
“The baby?”
Kozlowski nodded. “Still alive. Let’s go.” He turned and walked toward the lobby exit. Finn had to walk quickly to keep up. “We’ve got to get to this guy,” Kozlowski said. “He’ll kill the girl. He’s not just fucking around.”
Finn agreed. It was the only conclusion he’d come to about which he was sure. “Should we bring in the police?” he asked. “Maybe the FBI? It’s a kidnapping, so they’d have jurisdiction.”