time, I thought it was because of asthma or allergies. Now I realize it was caused by something else?’
“A parasitic infection,” said Rothstein. “That raises the eosinophil count.”
“Exactly. And Warren Emerson could be the source of the infection. If he’s been harboring a nine-foot tapeworm in his intestines, then he’s been shedding parasitic eggs for years. A leak in his septic tank would contaminate the soil and groundwater. The eggs would find their way into the lake, exposing anyone who swims there. Anyone who accidentally takes in a gulp of water.”
“That’s a lot of ifs,” said Clevenger. “It’s a house of cards you’re building.”
“Even the time frame makes sense! The kids would have been infected during the summer, when they swam in the lake. You said the eggs take several months to develop into larvae. Now it’s fall, and the symptoms are just starting to show up. A November syndrome.” She paused, suddenly frowning. “The only thing I can’t explain is their negative CT scans.”
“Maybe it was too early in the infection,” said Clevenger. “During the acute symptoms, the larvae may still be too small to detect. And there wouldn’t be any cyst formation yet.”
“Well, there’s a simple screen for the parasite,” added Rothstein. “The ELISA test.”
Claire nodded. “If anyone shows antibodies to Taenia solium, then this theory is more than just a house of cards.”
“We can start by testing Warren Emerson,” said Rothstein. “And that boy at the Youth Center. if they both come back negative, that kills your theory right there. But if they’re positive..
Clevenger, ever the scientist, eagerly rubbed his hands at the possibility “Then we’ll get out the needles and tourniquets, folks,” he said. “Because there are a whole lot of arms we have to poke.”
20
J.D. was jeering at her through her bedroom door, calling her a slut, a cheap lay, a whore. Amelia sat on the bed with her hands clapped over her ears, trying to shut out her stepbrother’s voice, knowing that if she yelled back at him, it would only make things worse. J.D. was mad at everyone these days, looking to pick a fight with whoever was in reach.
Yesterday, the day he’d been sent home from school, she’d made the mistake of calling him a bastard. He’d slapped her so hard her ears had rung for hours.
She’d run sobbing to her mother, but of course there’d been no support from Grace. “You know how he is,” Grace had said in her I’ve-got-troubles-of-my-own voice. “just stay away from him.”
All day, Amelia had kept her distance by locking herself in her room and trying to concentrate on her homework, but now it was impossible to think. Earlier that day she’d heard J.D. raise hell downstairs, shoving Eddie around, yelling at Morn, even yelling at jack. Maybe one of these days jack and J.D. would kill each other. Like father, like son. She wouldn’t mourn either one of them.
But now J.D. stood out in the hall, insulting her through the door. “You like tiny weenies? That why you doing it with that loser, Noah Elliot? I’ll show you a big dick! I’ll show you how it’s done! Or do you want Noah’s little weenie?” He laughed, and began chanting, “Little weenie! Little weenie!” until even Jack had had enough and he veiled up the stairs, “Shut up, J.D.! I’m trying to watch TV!”
At which point J.D. went tearing downstairs to pick a fight with Jack. Amelia could hear them in the living room, their voices crescendoing to shouts. One big happy family. Now things were being knocked onto the floor. She heard furniture thudding, glass breaking. Jesus, how much worse could it get? Her mother was part of the chaos now, sobbing about her precious broken lamp. Amelia looked down at the school books spread open on her bed, at the list of assignments she’d hoped to complete by Monday, and knew she couldn’t possibly finish them. I should have gone to the dance instead, she thought. If I can’t do my homework, I might as well have some fun tonight.
Except the dance wouldn’t be any fun either, since Noah Elliot wasn’t there.
She heard another lamp smash to the floor, then her mother wailing: “Why don’t you do something, Jack? Why don’t you ever do anything?” There was a loud slap, and then Grace was sobbing.
In disgust, Amelia stuffed her books in her backpack, grabbed her jacket, and stalked out of her room. They didn’t even hear her come down the stairs. She caught a glimpse of the living room, the floor littered with broken glass, J.D. red-faced and huffing like an angry hull as he faced his father and stepmother.
Amelia slipped out the front door and into a snowy night.
She began to walk down Toddy Point Road, not caring at first where she was going, just wanting to get away from them. By the time she’d passed the boat ramp, the cold was starting to penetrate her clothes, and melting snow dripped down her face. She had to go somewhere,’ walking aimlessly on a night like this was stupid and dangerous. But there was only one place she really wanted to go, one home where she knew she’d be welcomed.
Just the thought made her heart lift. She walked faster.
Since when did schoolgirls go out in public wearing fancy underwear? wondered Lincoln as he watched the students gather on the dance floor. He remembered the school dances of his own youth, the girls in their shiny hair and pastel dresses and satin miniskirts. Tonight the girls looked like a gathering of tarted-up vampires in their black lace and spaghetti straps. A few of them had painted their lips black too, and with their white winter faces, they reminded Lincoln of corpses wandering around the murky gym.
As for the boys, well, they were just as likely to be wearing earrings as the girls were.
Pete Sparks, standing beside him, said, “You’d think they’d catch pneumonia in those getups. Can’t believe their mothers let ‘em out looking like that.”
“I bet their mothers have no idea,” said Lincoln. He had seen many of the girls arrive modestly dressed, only to duck into the bathroom and emerge stripped down to the skimpiest of outfits.
Loud music suddenly blasted from the speakers in a driving beat. After only a few minutes of that racket, Lincoln was desperate to escape.
He stepped through the double doors of the gym, into the relative peace of a cold night.
The snowfall was gentle, just a fluttering of silver past the street-lamp.
Standing beneath the building’s overhang, he turned up his jacket collar and gratefully inhaled air that was sharp and clean.
Behind him, the door opened and shut, and he heard Fern say, “Too much for you too?”
“I had to take a breather.”
She came to stand beside him. She was wearing her coat, which meant she’d come out with the intention of staying for a while.
“Does it ever feel like it’s all just too much responsibility, Lincoln? Like you’re ready to call it quits and just walk away?”
He gave a rueful laugh. “At least twice a day.”
“Yet you’re still here.”
He looked at her. “So are you.”
“Not because I want to be. It’s because I don’t see any alternatives.' She looked up at the falling snow, and said softly, “Doreen doesn’t deserve you. She never did.”
“It’s not a matter of people deserving good luck or bad, Fern.”
“Still, you should’ve had better. All these years, I’ve watched how miserable she’s made you, and I kept thinking how unfair it was. How selfish she was. Life doesn’t have to be unfair. We can choose happiness.” She paused, marshaling the nerve for what she had to say. He knew what it was; he’d always known, and had always avoided hearing the words spoken aloud, because he knew the aftermath would be humiliating for her, and painful for him. “It’s not too late for us,” she said.
He released a regretful sigh. “Fern-”
“We could pick up where we left off. Before Doreen.”
