A woman. Pregnant. Her groin and legs covered in red. Screams tore at Terri’s ears.
‘My baby. I don’t want to lose my baby. Please, help me. I’ve hurt my baby.’
The air around Terri’s legs turned to heavy syrup, dragging at her steps until she stopped. She felt disembodied. Time jerked past frame by frame.
‘Pete! Where’s Pete?’ the woman sobbed. ‘Our baby…’
Images flashed onto Terri’s retinas, blotting out the scene before her.
Baby in peril.
Mother injured.
Blood everywhere.
Nausea swept up from her toes. She couldn’t do this. Not again. She couldn’t help them. She couldn’t move.
Each pore on her skin iced over. She was failing.
Again.
Failing.
Luke flicked a glance at Terri.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong. She was rigid, face as white as a sheet, eyes fixed on the screaming woman.
‘Terri!’
Oh, God. His voice wasn’t reaching her.
He wanted to go to her, hold her, shield her from whatever nightmare was holding her in its thrall. He sensed Terri’s crisis was the bigger emergency, but the patient in front of him was rapidly descending into hysteria.
‘I’ve hurt my baby. Please, save my baby.’ The woman clutched at his arm, dragging his attention back to her.
‘We’ve got you now,’ he said calmly. ‘What’s your name?’
‘N-Nadia.’
‘Nadia, we’re looking after you and your baby. Are you in any pain?’
‘N-no.’ She hiccuped and looked at him in surprise. ‘Not now.’
As he and Dianne settled Nadia on a gurney, Luke glanced across the foyer. Terri was gone.
It was paint, for God’s sake. Nadia and her husband, Pete, had been travelling with an open can of paint-the pregnant woman had been holding it between her knees so she could stir it.
A contraction had caught them by surprise and Peter had driven into their front fence. With the impact, red paint had gone everywhere. A neighbour had piled the hapless pair into his car and brought them into hospital.
The contractions hadn’t continued so no pattern has been established. Luke suspected it had been a set of Braxton-Hicks’ contractions perhaps exacerbated by Nadia’s fear. They’d keep her in hospital for a few hours and monitor her to make sure everything was as it should be. The baby’s heartbeat was strong and regular.
He’d packed Nadia and her husband off to the showers to wash away the last of the paint and now he had to attend to the real emergency.
‘Anyone seen Terri?’
‘I haven’t seen her since…the call about Nadia and Pete,’ Dianne answered, and the others looked around blankly.
‘If you do, page me, stat. Please.’ He ground his teeth. ‘Same goes for any emergencies. I’m going to find her.’
Aware of the circle of concerned faces, he walked out of the department, leaving no words to soothe their fears. He had none.
Urgency drove his steps. He had to find Terri. She’d been shattered. Something about that case had pushed her into some private hell. He’d seen a glimpse of her terror before she’d disappeared. More than terror, she’d looked in danger of disintegrating.
He worked methodically, checking every room. Would she have gone all the way home? For some reason he didn’t think she’d have been able to get that far.
She’d been like a wounded animal, looking for somewhere to tend her injuries, a private place.
He finally found her outside, behind the new gazebo. She was on her knees with her arms wrapped around her body. He could see her knuckles were white as though by gripping tightly she might hold herself together. But even that self-hug wasn’t enough comfort for her. She rocked in a small rhythmic movement that broke his heart.
Weak sun shone on the chocolate of her hair, picking out bright threads of red and chestnut in the thick mane.
He crouched beside her, touched her lightly on the shoulder.
She jerked, her reflex beyond a normal fright response. He could feel the fine tremors that raced through her chilled flesh.
‘Terri.’
The rocking started again.
‘Talk to me, darling. Please.’
‘No p-point. There’s no point. It won’t help. You can’t help me. No-one can. G-go away. Please. Just…go away.’
He sat on the ground beside her, not caring about grass stains, and gathered her rigid body close.
‘Tell me anyway,’ he said as he rubbed her back.
For the longest silence, he just held her, rocked with her. Hoped that his body heat would help to thaw her.
‘S-so much blood.’
‘It was red paint.’ But she didn’t hear him.
‘So much blood,’ she whispered. ‘She killed her husband, sh-she killed her baby.’
‘No! No she didn’t. Terri, listen to me. Her husband is fine. She’s fine. She mightn’t even be in labour.’
‘But the blood…’ She shuddered
He took her face between his hands.
‘Terri. Look at me.’ Her eyes slowly focussed on him. ‘It wasn’t blood.’
‘N-not blood?’ She sounded confused, as though he was speaking a foreign language.
‘Paint. It was paint.’
‘P-paint?’ She tested the word as though trying to divine its meaning.
‘Red paint. Nadia was in the car with an open can of red paint between her knees. She was stirring it.’
‘I s-saw all the r-red.’
‘I know, darling. I want you to come back now.’
‘I c-can’t. I mustn’t. The b-baby…sh-she’ll lose the b-baby. You can’t trust m-me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘B-bad things happen. I killed my husband. I killed Peter.’
‘The terrorists killed Peter.’
‘And my b-baby. I killed my baby.’
‘You lost your baby in the explosion?’ Oh, God. How had she coped with that, alone, having just lost a husband as well? His heart ached for her. No wonder she was struggling.
‘Yes. My fault. It was all my fault.’
‘Why?’ He needed to hear it all as much as she needed to tell him.
‘I stayed too long. I stayed too long. I should have left as soon as I found out. But I didn’t. I killed my baby.’
‘Oh, darling, no. No, you didn’t,’ he said gently. ‘You’re a wonderful, brave woman who’s carried a terrible burden all by herself.’
‘My baby. My poor baby.’ She made a strangled sound deep in her chest and then the tears started in huge shuddering sobs. His heart broke for her. Just listening to her story was painful beyond belief. He felt powerless in the face of her grief.
