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Fountain of Death(63)

By:Jane Haddam


“Let the police come now let the police come now let the police come right this second,” Dessa prayed, out loud, into the air, into the sound of his screaming.

The base of the lamp slammed down against the bathroom door again and again and again, until the door began to crack just like the coffee table had.

Dessa buried her face in the side of her arm and started to cry.





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FOR CHRISTIE MULLIGAN, THE pain started during the very last step aerobics routine of the day, almost at the very end, during the part where the music got slower. Pain was a bad sign, she knew that. Pain meant the bubble was getting bigger and the problem had spread. For the routine, she was supposed to hold her hands up over her head and wave them in the air. This was called “making like a palm tree” and supposed to be fun. Christie put one hand on her breast and felt for the bubble instead. It hadn’t gotten any bigger, as far as she could tell. It hadn’t gotten any smaller, either. It was just there, there there there, and—

What was it, exactly, that she thought she was doing?

When the last step aerobics routine was over, Christie took a shower in the locker room, dried her hair, got dressed in jeans. In the shower she felt for the bubble half a dozen times. Getting dressed, she felt for it half a dozen times more. That was when she started to be afraid.

It wasn’t a bubble. It was a tumor. And it had been there for weeks now. Weeks.

There was a window stuck open somewhere and the locker room was cold, but Christie had sweat running down her back. The skin on her scalp itched, even though she had just washed her hair. Christie put on her turtleneck and her sweater and sat down on the bench. Tara and Michelle were all dressed and ready to go. She was taking too much time. She had taken so much time already, the three of them were the only ones left in the locker room.

What did she think she was doing? she asked herself. She hadn’t talked to David since the beginning of December. She hadn’t gone home for Christmas. She hadn’t kept the appointments Dr. Hornig had made for her. She hadn’t even answered her own phone, just in case it was Dr. Hornig herself on the other end of the line.

“Hey,” Tara said now. “Are you ready? I want a Big Mac.”

Christie’s L.L. Bean Marine Hunting Boots were sitting on the floor with their laces pulled loose. All she had to do was put her feet into them.

“Come here,” she told Tara. “I want to show you something.”

“Show me what?”

“I want you to feel something.”

When Tara came close, Christie pulled up first her sweater and then her turtleneck and began to pull down her bra. Tara looked embarrassed.

“Hey,” she said. “Christie. I mean—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Christie said. She grabbed Tara’s right hand by the palm and pulled it close to her. “Feel that,” she ordered. “Right there.”

“Should I go somewhere else?” Michelle asked.

“No,” Christie said.

Tara’s fingers touched the spot where Christie pointed. She had a puzzled look on her face.

“But what is that?” she asked, taking her hand away. “Is that some kind of cyst?”

“It’s a tumor.”

“But you can’t know that, can you?” Tara said. “Not without a biopsy.”

“Tara, I had a biopsy. Right after Thanksgiving.”

“And they found out it was a tumor?”

“Yes.”

“A malignant tumor?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t understand,” Tara said. “Why is it still there? Why haven’t they done something about it? Are you on chemotherapy or radiation treatments or something?”

“I was supposed to have it out.”

“When?”

“About four weeks ago.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Michelle murmured.

Tara sat down hard on the bench. “But. But—” And then she exploded.

“Jesus Christ!” she shouted. “Four weeks ago? Why didn’t you get it done? Why didn’t you tell anybody about it, for God’s sake, what do you think you’re doing here, did they want to take the whole breast, is that what you were afraid of, well, they’ve got implants and things now and for Jesus Christ’s sake—”

“Don’t scream at her,” Michelle said, close to tears. “Why are you screaming at her?”

“I’m not screaming at her,” Tara screamed.

“Listen,” Christie said, and almost laughed, because all of a sudden she was the calmest person in the room. “Listen, the two of you, you’ve got to help me out with this.”





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