“For what?” Jeffrey asked, because this was the crux of the problem. “Why would I take extra steps for what looked like an accident? Did you see something that made you think otherwise?”
She shook her head. “You’re right.”
Jeffrey cupped his hand to his ear, as if he couldn’t hear her.
She gave a reluctant smile. He hated the way he felt when he got a positive reaction out of her, as if he was in junior high school trying to impress a cheerleader.
He said, “This case feels hinky, right? It’s not just me?”
She shook her head, but he could tell she shared his trepidation. “I want to see the MRI. The puncture is strange. It could change everything. Or it could be explained. I need more information.”
“I do, too.” Jeffrey felt some of the pressure start to lift off his chest. One of the things he missed most about Sara was being able to talk out what was bothering him. “Kevin Blake is pushing me to make a statement today. He wants to calm fears. Part of me thinks he’s right. Another part of me thinks that we’re missing something. Then I ask myself, ‘What could that something be?’ There’s no physical evidence that asks a question that an investigation can answer.”
“I doubt the girl will be able to help,” Sara said. “Even if she survives the surgery, even if she’s able to communicate, post-traumatic amnesia will probably render her useless as a witness.”
“I’m going to talk to Leslie Truong. She’s the one who found Caterino. Maybe she remembered something.”
“Maybe.”
Jeffrey studied Sara’s face. She looked like she had more to say. “What is it?”
“We’re just talking here, right?”
“Right.”
Sara tapped her pen against the desk like a metronome. “You should ask for a pelvic exam.”
“You think she was raped?” Jeffrey was puzzled by the leap. “We’re talking about a good kid here. You saw how she was dressed. She wasn’t even wearing make-up. She’d spent the entire night before at the library. She’s not the kind of party girl you’d expect to get assaulted.”
The pen had stopped tapping. “Are you telling me there’s such a thing as a rape-able woman?”
“No, that’s crazy.” She was purposefully misunderstanding him. “I’m saying look at the evidence. Caterino wasn’t bound. She wasn’t showing signs of bruising. Her clothes were still on. Nothing looked disturbed. It was broad daylight in the woods about two hundred yards from a packed street.”
“And she was at the library last night instead of a bar. And she wasn’t dressed like she was asking for it.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth. Nobody asks for that,” he said. “All right, maybe I was clumsy, but it’s true that she’s not in a high-risk category. She’s a good student. She’s not into the drug scene. She’s like you, always has her nose in a book. I mean, for chrissakes, she was out running at the crack of dawn, not hanging out in an alley trying to score benzos.”
Sara pressed her lips together. She took a deep breath. He watched her nostrils flare. “You know what, Jeffrey? This isn’t my job anymore.”
“What job?”
“I’m not the person you talk through cases with. I’m not your hinky whisperer. I’m not going to tell you how to neutralize Kevin Blake. It’s no longer my job to be the emotional scaffolding that holds up your life.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I don’t have to listen to you, or worry about you, or help you, or even look at you.” Sara jabbed her finger into the desk. “Your mother’s birthday is tomorrow. Did you remember?”
“Shit,” he hissed.
“The florist closes at four and they don’t do same-day delivery, so unless you want her sobbing on the phone, you’d better call them right now before you forget.”
Jeffrey looked at his watch. He had five hours. He wasn’t going to forget. “That’s one thing. I never asked you to—”
“Did you remember Possum and Nell’s seventeenth anniversary is next month?” Sara apparently did. “Last time we were there, you promised them you’d drive over for the party. And that you’d write a toast. You also promised Jared you’d show him how to throw a spiral. And you need a flu shot. The titers on your vaccines should be measured. God knows you should be tested for STDs. You’re past due for a physical. You want more blood pressure medication? You need to make an appointment with your GP before your script runs out.”
“I know all of this,” he lied. “I’ve already made appointments. I’ve got the speech on my laptop.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“How about you, Sara? Can we talk about how screwed up you are for a change?” His knees banged the desk as he leaned forward. “How about this new guy you’ve been running around Atlanta with? Parker? That’s not a man’s name. That’s a mechanical pencil you get from your grandfather.”
She laughed. “Wow, you really got me there.”
Jeffrey was going to get her if it was the last thing he did. “You look like shit right now. How about that? Did you even brush your hair today? I can tell you’re hungover. You probably haven’t slept in a week. You’re barely hanging on. I’m trying to talk to you like an adult about—”
“Jeffrey.” Her throat seemed to grip the word. Sara never yelled when she was mad. Her anger always hissed out in a furious whisper. “Get out of my office.”
“Get your ass off your shoulders.” He slammed his hand on the desk. She had no right to be angry with him right now. “Jesus, Sara. I was trying to talk to you about a case and you blew it up into this—”
“I’m not the coroner. I’m not your sounding board. You damn well made sure I’m not your wife.”
He forced out a laugh. “I’m not the one who filed for a divorce.”
“No, you’re just the one who kept lying to me when I asked why you were staying out late, why you suddenly had to
