The Killing Game

“. . . Em shoulda taken over that company,” Ben Mueller was saying, but Luke scarcely heard him.

“No, I just want to check on Andi and Emma.”

Luke ignored him and headed toward the front of the bar, drawing a deep breath. Something was wrong with Andi and he didn’t feel like hanging out with Emma’s husband, who wanted to grouse about damn near everything and didn’t offer much to the conversation. He was anxious to get out of there. Anxious to get Andi home.

He heard a loud, wrenching cry from the women’s room that no one else seemed to notice above the throbbing music and the general din. He was at the door in an instant, hesitating only a moment before throwing it open. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Andi, out cold on the floor, a spreading stain of blood beneath her, while Emma stood above her, her mouth open in unvoiced horror, her cell phone unheeded in her limp hand.

“Call nine-one-one,” Luke ordered.

“I did,” she said, holding out the phone. A tinny voice was demanding, “What is the nature of your emergency?”

“Put the phone to your ear!” he commanded. He watched as she lifted it in slow motion, as if it weighed too much. He reached over and took it from her, and she offered no resistance.

“A woman is unconscious in the woman’s room,” he said into the phone. “Andi . . . Andrea Wren. She’s bleeding.”

“She said, ‘the baby,’” Emma said, leaning against one of the sinks as if her legs were about to fail.

“Sit down on the floor,” he told her, but she straightened and staggered over to one of the stalls.

“She may be miscarrying,” he told the operator.

She assured him help was on the way, and he clicked off just as the door opened and two young women stumbled in. Luke blocked their way and they blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Use the men’s,” he told them tautly.

“Huh?” the one with hair too black to be natural said. “What’re you doing here?”

He hustled them out and closed the door behind him. “Emergency,” he said. One of the bartenders frowned at him and left his post. “Hey, buddy,” he started to say, but Luke cut him off.

“Nine-one-one’s on the way. There’s an unconscious woman on the floor. My friend,” he added coldly, as the bartender tried to brush past him. “Man the door. I’ve got this,” he ordered, heading back inside.

“The hell you do. This is my brother’s bar!” He pushed Luke out of the way and stepped inside. One look and he spun on his heel, a little paler in the face. “Blood,” he said. Luke wanted to throttle him, but he pulled himself together and took a post at the door.

Luke returned to Andi. Emma was in the stall, talking on her cell phone, saying, “I don’t, Carter. I don’t know! The ambulance is on its way, that’s all I know!”

“Andi,” Luke whispered, getting on his knees. He ripped off his shirt and folded it under her head. His heart was beating so hard he felt like it was moving his skin.

It was mere minutes, though it felt like forever before the EMTs were bringing in their gurney. By this time a small crowd had gathered outside the restroom, and Luke could see a blur of faces trying to look inside when the door was open.

Emma came out of the stall, her makeup ruined. Her eyes were moist. She hiccupped and covered her mouth with her hands. “She’s pregnant?” she asked.

“Yes.” He hoped she still was, but it didn’t look good.

The EMTs carefully loaded her onto the collapsible gurney, then covered her and wheeled her out.

Emma put a hand out to stop him as he followed them out, and he looked back at her impatiently. “Yours?” she asked.

“I’ve known her less than a week. She said Greg’s the father.”

She was poleaxed. “Greg?”

He shook her off and followed after the EMTs. They told him they were going to Laurelton General and he headed for his truck. As he peeled out of Lacey’s parking lot he saw Ben and Emma’s faces in the crowd that had gathered outside to watch the ambulance pull away.

* * *

It was all a blur to Andi. She awoke at the hospital emergency room. “My baby,” she said, and then slipped away again. It was hours later that she found herself in a private room, an IV in her arm. The room was dimly lit and she sensed it was the middle of the night. No one had to tell her what had happened. She felt the loss already. Miserable, she put her face into her pillow and cried until blessed sleep, and whatever they were giving her, took her away again.

Sunday dawned with gray light, and even though bright sunlight slipped inside, she still felt gray. The baby was gone. A few days of bright joy and hope and now it was gone. She could feel herself distancing herself from the pain, just as she had after Greg’s death, only this was worse: deeper, longer, harder. A coma of sorts, Trini told her when Andi surfaced again on late Sunday afternoon.

“There you are,” Trini said with relief from the only chair in the room as Andi opened her eyes.

Andi looked around dully. She was in a hospital room with blue and green decor. A blank television stared down at her like an accusing eye. She could see her toes holding up the covers at the end of the bed.

Miscarriage ...

A wave of sorrow brought tears to her eyes and she closed her lids and fought back a hard cry that wanted to erupt from her soul. She’d barely gotten used to the idea that she was pregnant and now the baby was gone.

“Hey,” Trini said. She was beside Andi in an instant, grabbing her hand.

“The baby’s gone.”

“Um . . . yes, I think so,” Trini said soberly after a moment of indecision. “I’m sorry, Andi. I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

Andi kept her lips tightly closed, afraid if she said anymore she would break down completely.

Trini squeezed her hand. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but there’s something good that came out of this.”

Andi just stared blankly ahead.

“It proves you can get pregnant. The last I heard, you said you didn’t think it could happen, and it did. Doesn’t have to be Greg’s baby, you know.”

“I don’t want to . . . talk about it.”

“Just listen then. Soon as you’re better, head on down to the local sperm depository and pick yourself out a baby daddy. Pick one with really good genes. Or how about that guy you’ve been seeing? Luke?”

“No. It’s not . . . no . . .” She didn’t have the energy to explain.

“I’m just sayin’. He wouldn’t leave the hospital even when the staff told him to. He finally took a break about an hour ago to get some sleep, but I bet he’s back ASAP. He’s like . . . built for sex, and I hope you’ll tell me it’s just as good as it looks.”

“Stop,” she said weakly.

“I’m not saying right now, obviously. But later.”

“I’m not having sex with Luke,” she said with certainty.

“You should. I mean it.”

“Don’t make me smile, Trini. I feel too miserable.”

“Smiling is good. Smiling means you’re improving.”

“No, I’m too sad.” Her voice trailed off, small and loaded with pain.

“What can I do to help?” Trini asked in all seriousness.

“Nothing. Thanks. But nothing.”

Trini sighed. “Okay, what if I tell you about my relationship with Bobby? You don’t have to talk. You don’t even have to listen. Just try not to think too much.”

Andi closed her eyes. There was wisdom in that. Let Trini just talk. She could tune out. She needed some kind of distraction or she would be swallowed up by the dark. “Okay.”

“He first came to my Pilates class. Did I tell you that he’s not my type? I did, didn’t I? He looks more like Greg than Tim . . . you remember Tim? My last serious guy . . . relationship . . . whatever you want to call it, that I thought could turn into something more. Not that I necessarily want that, but you know what I mean. Tim had that tattoo that ran down the side of his neck? You told me you thought it looked like Pinocchio’s nose, but it was really a flute because he was a musician. Anyway, Bobby’s not like Tim at all. He’s very corporate, although in a nerdy way. Wears glasses and not cool ones, but I’m working on him. Hard to believe I fell for him, but I have. When you take away all the trappings of nerdom, he’s really sexy.”

Andi was drifting. The conversation came to her through a watery filter.

As if realizing it, Trini said, “Go ahead and fall back asleep. And relax. I’m just talking here . . . let’s see . . . Bobby and I haven’t had sex yet. We’re still kind of circling each other, y’know? I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but he wears a hairpiece because he’s going bald.”

Andi made a strangled sound.

“I know! I just know he’d look great if he shaved his head, but as I said, I gotta work on him. Time will tell. You gotta meet him and you’ll know what I’m talking about. . . .”

The next time Andi woke up it was night, and she felt like she was weighted down by an invisible blanket. Her chest hurt and she didn’t want to move. She kept hoping it was all a nightmare from which she would awaken.

She ran a protective hand over her abdomen. How many days had she known she was pregnant? Four? She wanted to bury her face in her pillow and make it all go away, but she sensed there were others in the room. She opened one eye and saw she was alone. The voices she’d heard were from people in the hall, just outside her door, talking softly.

“. . . Greg sure could get ’em pregnant. They just can’t hang on to the babies,” Emma was saying.

A man’s voice answered in a mumble and Andi caught part of it. “. . . lucky for us about Mimi and now this . . . Greg stuck his dick in way too many . . .”

And then Emma again, even softer, “Think she knows?”

“Nah.”

Carter, she realized dimly. Talking about Greg’s indiscretions. Of course she’d known about Mimi, but not that there had been many more. A sharp stab of pain. Surprising, even so many months after Greg’s death.

Or maybe it was just that she felt so low.

Their voices diminished as they moved off. Andi flung an arm over her eyes, willing herself back to sleep.

She awakened with a start to realize it was night. There was someone sitting in the only chair and her heart flipped over until she recognized her psychiatrist, Dr. Knapp.

“What are you doing here?” Andi asked.

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“How did you know?”

“Your sister-in-law called me.”

“Emma?”

“She said she was with you and called nine-one-one. How are you doing?”

Dr. Knapp was a tiny woman in her forties who leaned toward the bohemian look with long hair, flowing skirts, and dangling silver earrings. At her first appointment, Andi hadn’t been sure they would be a good match, but she’d come to trust the doctor implicitly. “I didn’t know Emma knew about you,” she murmured. Carter was the one who’d named her the “guru shrink.”

“You know about the baby, I take it,” Andi said.

“I heard you just found out. I’m so sorry, Andi.”

The doctor’s commiseration made Andi’s throat go hot, her nose burn with gathering tears. “I’m . . . disappointed.”

Dr. Knapp pulled her chair closer to Andi’s bed. “This is another big blow. You have a right.”

Andi nodded silently, fighting the waterworks.

“Let down,” her doctor advised kindly, and Andi bent her head and cried.