Part 26 (2/2)
Jack let his gaze slide to the fresh clothing on the seat beside him. ”Neither can I,” he answered softly.
The guard behind him stepped forward at a nod from the superintendent. ”Put Mr. St. Bride back in solitary for six days. And this time, turn off the water line to his shower.”
Jack felt himself being hauled to his feet. He smoothed the front of his s.h.i.+rt as if it were the tunic of a king.
”Mr. St. Bride,” the superintendent said. ”You're not going to win.”
Jack paused, but did not turn around. ”On the other hand, I have nothing to lose.”
Francesca Martine had the body of a Playboy Playboy centerfold and the brain of a nuclear physicist, something that didn't usually sit well with the men who got up the nerve to ask her out. Then again, she had learned her lesson: Instead of telling dates that she was a DNA scientist, she simply said that she worked in a lab, leaving them to a.s.sume she spent her days getting lunch for the centerfold and the brain of a nuclear physicist, something that didn't usually sit well with the men who got up the nerve to ask her out. Then again, she had learned her lesson: Instead of telling dates that she was a DNA scientist, she simply said that she worked in a lab, leaving them to a.s.sume she spent her days getting lunch for the real real scientists, and cleaning out the cages of mice and rats. scientists, and cleaning out the cages of mice and rats.
She set a sample beneath a microscope. ”So, Frankie,” Matt said, grinning. ”That come from one of your boyfriends?”
”Oh, yeah. I have so little to do here I've taken to swabbing myself to see what's swimming around, just in case the fact that I haven't had a relations.h.i.+p in six months isn't enough to tip me off.” She squinted into the lens. ”How's that cute kid of yours?”
”Molly ... G.o.d. I can't even describe how incredible she is. So I guess you'll have to have one yourself.”
”How come perfectly normal people become matchmakers the minute they get married themselves?”
”It's Darwinian, I think. Trying to keep the species going.” Restless, Matt got to his feet. ”Besides, you brainy types need to be reminded that it's nice to replicate DNA in something other than a thermocycler.”
”Thanks, Mom,” Frankie said dryly. ”Did you specifically come here to talk about my pathetic love life, or is there something else?”
”That rape kit Charlie Saxton brought in-”
”I haven't gotten to it yet, Matt. I was in court yesterday, and this morning I-”
”I'm not rus.h.i.+ng you.” He smiled sheepishly. ”Well, not any more than I usually do, anyway. I just wanted to let you know what I'm looking for.”
”Let me guess,” Frankie said deadpan. ”s.e.m.e.n?”
”Yeah. I'd like to know about the blood on the s.h.i.+rt, too. And the soil from the boots.” He swung away from the counter. ”So, you'll get me my results in two weeks?”
”Three,” Frankie murmured, peering into a microscope.
”Gosh, yeah-ten days would be great.” Matt backed away before she could complain. ”Thanks.”
Frankie turned to the scope again. Sperm frozen in time, tailless and immobile. ”That's what they all say,” she sighed.
Addie didn't know where she got the courage necessary to knock on the heavy door of the Carroll County Jail. If they don't come, I'll just turn away, If they don't come, I'll just turn away, Addie thought. Addie thought. I'll go home and try some other day, when I feel more the thing. I'll go home and try some other day, when I feel more the thing.
A guard opened the door. ”Can I help you?”
”I ... I ...”
A kindly smile spread across the man's face. ”First visit? Come on in.”
He led Addie into a vestibule, where a small line of people snaked like a tapeworm from a gla.s.s-enclosed booth. ”Wait here,” the guard said. ”They'll tell you what to do.”
Addie nodded, more to herself than to the guard, who had already moved away. Visiting hours were Wednesday nights, from 6 to 9. She'd called the switchboard for that information, which had been easy enough. Getting in her car and driving there had been slightly more challenging. Downright impossible would be the moment she saw Jack again and struggled for something to say.
It was after speaking to Matt Houlihan that she realized she needed to do the one thing she hadn't: hear Jack's side of the story, before she believed anyone else's.
She was terrified that he would lie to her, and that their whole time together would just have been an extension of that lie. She was equally terrified that he would tell her the truth, and then she would have to understand how G.o.d could be cruel enough to let her give her heart to a man who'd committed rape.
”Next!”
Addie advanced as the man before her was buzzed through a barred door. She found herself facing a correctional officer with a face as misshapen as a potato. ”Name?”
Her heart leaped beneath her light jacket. ”Addie Peabody.”
”Name of the inmate you're here to visit.”
”Oh. Jack St. Bride.”
The officer scanned a list. ”St. Bride's not allowed visitors.”
”Not allowed-”
”He's in solitary.” The guard glanced over her shoulder. ”Next!”
But Addie didn't move. ”How am I supposed to get in touch with him?”
”ESP,” the officer suggested, as Addie was shoved out of the way.
The human scalp has 100,000 hairs.
In an average lifetime, a person will grow 590 miles of hair.
Jack scratched at his thickening beard again, this time drawing blood. There was a rational part of him that knew he was all right, that going without a shower for a week wouldn't kill him. And in spite of what it felt like, a colony of insects had not taken up root on his scalp. But sometimes, when he sat very still, he could feel the threads of their legs digging into his skin, could hear the buzz of their bodies.
Insects outnumber humans 100,000,000 to one.
He thought of these things, these useless facts, because they were so much easier to consider than other things: Would Addie come to see him? Would he remember what had happened that night? Would he, once again, be convicted?
Suddenly, from a distance, there were footsteps. Usually, no one came down here after the janitor's soft-soled shoes paced the length of the hall, rasping a mop in their wake. These shoes were definitive, a sure stride that stopped just outside his door.
”I take it you're still mulling over your decisions,” the superintendent said. ”I wanted to pa.s.s along a bit of information to you. You had a visitor today, who of course was turned away, since you're in a disciplinary lockdown.”
A visitor? Addie? Addie?
Just the thought of her walking into a place like this, the knowledge that she wouldn't have had to if not for Jack, was enough to make him cry a river. Tears sluiced down his face, was.h.i.+ng away the grime, and maybe a little bit of his pride.
Reaching up, he scratched vigorously at his temple.
The average person, Jack thought, Jack thought, accidentally eats 430 bugs in a year. accidentally eats 430 bugs in a year.
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