Shaking my head, I leaned forward to rub my aching back. "So she got as obsessed about finding the stalker as the stalker was about his victim?"

"Yes, that's about the size of it."

"So, what happened?"

"She was warned off three times. The department gave her a lot of slack, because she was a good detective, she was a woman, and she was a minority. They didn't want to have to fire her. After a while, when she seemed to be watching the victim as much as the stalker was, they gave her a long leave of absence so she could get her head on straight." Jack looked disapproving; no one had suggested he be extended the chance of a leave of absence when he'd misbehaved. They'd wanted him gone. If he hadn't resigned, he would've been fired.

"So, no matter what Alicia Stokes told Claude, she's really still an employee of the Cleveland Police Department."

"Yes," said Jack, looking surprised. "I guess she is. Surely Claude called up there when she applied for a job here; that's one of the first steps, checking references. You call and get the official story. Then you use the network of cops you know to get the real story, like I did this morning. So Claude must know about her problems."

But I wondered if Claude, chronically understaffed, had taken the extra time.

I shook my head free of problems that really didn't concern me and returned to work on my grocery list. It was taking me an awfully long time to finish my task. I couldn't seem to concentrate. Truthfully, I was feeling less than wonderful. When Jack showed signs of wanting to make up for his inattention the night before, I had to wave him off. It was the first time for that, and when he looked surprised I felt obliged to tell him I was about to have my monthly time, and that somehow it felt worse than usual. Jack was quite willing to leave our discussion at that; I think he feels it's unmanly to ask questions about my femaleness.

After thirty more minutes, my list was complete and I'd figured out the weekly menu. Also, I was in pain. Jack agreed to go to the store for us, and when I saw the worry on his face, I was embarrassed. I was seldom ill, and I hated it; hated going to the doctor, spending the money on prescriptions, not being my usual self.

After Jack left—after many admonitions and a lot of scolding—I thought I might lie down, as he'd suggested. I couldn't remember the last time I'd lain down during the day, but I was feeling very strange. I went back to our room and sat down very carefully on the edge of the bed. I swung my legs up and lay on my side. I couldn't get comfortable. I had a terrible backache. The weird thing was, it was rhythmical. I would feel a terrible tense clenching feeling, then it would back off. I'd have a few minutes of feeling better, then it would start again.

By the time I heard Jack unloading groceries in the kitchen, I was sweating and scared. I was lying with my back to the bedroom door, and I thought of turning over to face him, but it seemed like a lot of trouble to move. His footsteps stopped in the door.

"Lily, you're bleeding," he said. "Did you know?" There was lot of panic behind the calm words.

"No," I said, in the grip of one of those pulses of pain. "Gosh, and I put a pad on, just in case. I've never had this much trouble." I was feeling too miserable to be embarrassed.

"Surely this isn't just your period?" he asked. He went around to the side of the bed I was facing and crouched down to look at me.

"I don't think so," I said, bewildered. "I'm so sorry. I'm just never sick."

He glared at me. "Don't apologize," he said. "You're white as a sheet. Listen, Lily, I know you're the woman and I'm the guy, but are these pains you're having... have you by any chance been timing them?"

"Why would I do that?" I asked, irritated.

"Your back hurts?" he asked, as though he were scared of the answer.

I nodded.

"Low down?"

I nodded again.

"Are you late?"

"I'm never very regular. Hand me the calendar." Jack got my bank giveaway calendar from the nail in the kitchen and I flipped back to the months before. I counted. "Well, this one is late. I don't know why it's so painful, my last one was just nothing. A couple of spots."

If I was as white as a sheet, we were a matching set. Jack lost all his color.

"What did you say?" he asked.

I repeated myself.

"Lily," he said, as if he was bracing himself. "Honey, I think you ... I think we need to get you to the hospital."

"You know I don't have insurance," I said. "I can't afford a hospital bill."

"I can," Jack said grimly. "And you're going."

I was as astonished as I could be. Jack had never spoken to me that way. He said, "I'm going to call an ambulance."

But I balked at that. It would take us only four minutes to get to the hospital in Shakespeare, and that's even if we caught the red light.

"Just put the bath mat down over your car seat," I suggested, "in case I leak any more." Jack could see I wouldn't go unless he did as I'd said, so he grabbed the bath mat and took it out to his car.

Then he returned to help me up, and we went out to the car during a moment when I wasn't actively in pain. I got in and buckled up, and Jack hurried around to his side of the car and jammed the key into the ignition. We went backward at a tremendous rate, and Jack got out into the street as though there were never any traffic.

After a minute, I didn't care. I was really hurting.

Suddenly, deep inside me, I felt a kind of terrible wrench. "Oh," I said sharply, bending forward. I took a deep breath, let it out... and the pain stopped.

"Lily?" Jack asked, his voice frantic. "Lily? What's happening?"

"It's over," I said in relief. I looked sideways at Jack, but he didn't seem to think that was good news. Just when I was about to ask him if he'd heard me, I felt a gush of wet warmth, and I looked down to see blood. A lot of blood.

I felt very tired. I thought I would lean my head against the car window. It felt cool against my cheek. Jack glanced over and nearly hit the car ahead of us.

"What's happened to me?" I asked Jack from a far distance, as we pulled into the emergency room carport and he pushed open his door.

"Stay right there!" he yelled, and disappeared inside the building. The bath mat underneath me turned red. I congratulated myself on my foresight, trying not to admit to myself that I was terrified. In seconds, a nurse came out with a wheelchair. Jack helped me out of the car, and the minute I stood up my legs were drenched in a gush of fluid. I stared down at myself, embarrassed and frightened.

"What's happened to me?" I asked again.

"Hon, you're miscarrying," the nurse said briskly, as if any fool should have known that.

And I guess she was right.