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But neither had Bianca’s story and it was very real.
The streets in town were quiet. She met only a few cars and trucks, people on their way to work, but she was uncomfortable behind the steering wheel and felt, again, the Braxton Hicks contractions that had been showing up periodically over the past few weeks. She told herself this wasn’t her first rodeo, she knew all the signs, and that when real labor was imminent, she’d know it.
But it’s been more than a few years since you were last pregnant. Your body has changed a lot.
“Oh, shut up,” she growled and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “It’s not happening, not yet.” She had far too much to do before she could even think about maternity leave.
Once again, she turned her thoughts to the task at hand and the attack on Lara Haas. Was it too convenient? Some kind of setup, or publicity stunt? “You’re a jaded, pregnant cop whose BS radar is always cranked too high,” she told herself with another look in the mirror. “Or, maybe just a damned good detective. Let’s go with that. Yeah, I like that better.”
At Northern General, the lot was fairly empty, only a few vehicles parked near the front doors. She found an empty spot and headed inside, taking the elevator to the second floor, where she found the room occupied by Lara Haas.
A nurse was attending to her patient, taking vital signs, and Alvarez stood near the windows, turning when she heard Pescoli arrive.
Propped on the bed, the head of which was raised, Lara, devoid of makeup, looked more like a kid than ever, as if she were closer to fifteen than twenty. In a flash, Pescoli remembered her as a toddler at the preschool. She’d been pretty even then, round blue eyes, blond hair, pink cheeks, and rosebud lips. Now, an IV dripped colorless fluid into her right arm while her left forearm was elevated, a padded splint holding her wrist and hand immobile. There were surface scratches on her face and arms, and a dark discoloration visible at her neckline.
Pescoli didn’t say a word as the nurse, a prim woman in her fifties in scrubs and rimless glasses, took Lara’s vitals, then, not particularly happy the cops were there, looked from Pescoli to Alvarez. “Does the doctor know you’re here?”
“Don’t know,” Alvarez said.
“I’ll check. Remember, the patient has been through a lot,” she said, glaring at the detectives over the tops of her glasses. “We’re still waiting on the results of some of her tests.”
Alvarez gave a quick nod.
“Hmmm.” The nurse started to exit, then took a closer look at Pescoli’s baby bump. “You’re near term.”
“Yes, I am.” Pescoli felt her feathers ruffled a bit.
The nurse’s thin eyebrows arched knowingly. She looked about to say something more, but caught a warning in Pescoli’s eyes and glanced back at the bed. “I’ll be at the desk if you need anything,” she said to Lara as she pointed to a remote call button attached to the rails of the hospital bed.
Lara smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
“So how’re you feeling?” Alvarez asked as the nurse exited.
“Pretty rough,” she admitted, her lower lip quivering slightly. “My mom is out of town, but she’s on her way back from Spokane right now.”
“What about your dad?”
Her eyes slid to the side. “They’re separated. He’s in San Francisco. For a while. But Mom. She’ll be here soon.” She managed a brave little smile that faltered slightly, and she blinked back tears.
Pescoli felt a pang of empathy for Lara—she was, after all, just a teenager. How duplicitous could she be? Silently berat
ing herself for her own jaded attitude, she said, “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
“It was just like Bianca,” Lara said. Then she paused. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you homicide cops?” Her blue eyes rounded. “No one died, did they? No one was killed. Right?” She appeared about to panic.
“Nothing like that,” Alvarez said. “We just think what happened to you might be considered part of a wider investigation.”
“Okay.”
Pescoli asked, “Why were you up at Reservoir Point?”
“I lost my phone, earlier. When we were all up there, at the Point, filming, you know? Last night. I had it because I remember texting and then being told that all our phones had to be turned off. So I did. And we did our scenes, if you can call them that, I mean, I’m barely on screen at all and just in a group shot. But a bunch of us were there, around the fake campfire, sitting on logs. I think that’s when my phone must’ve fallen out of my pocket and I didn’t notice since I wasn’t supposed to use it.”
“Then what?” Alvarez asked, when she paused.
“After the filming, we all left and Alex and I went to the Midway Diner. That’s when I noticed it was gone. I was freaked, you know? I mean, I can. Not. Live. Not without my phone, so Alex and I, we went up there looking for it.”
“In the dark?” Pescoli asked.
