"I've just been meeting with Lincoln Rhyme's physician."
"Yes?"
"I've got to talk to you about something."
"You're looking like it's bad news, Doctor."
"Why don't we sit down over there in the corner?"
"Here's fine. Tell me. Let me have it straight."
"Well, Lincoln's doctor tells me that the results of his fertility workup are well within normal levels. A slightly diminished sperm count, which is typical of someone in his condition, but nowadays that's a very slight hurdle to pregnancy. I'm afraid, though, that you have a more serious problem."
"Me?"
Staring at the butcher block next to her, she now told Sellitto about this conversation with the doctor. Then she added, "I've got something called endometriosis. I've always had problems but I never believed it was as bad as what the doctor told me."
"Can they cure it?"
Sachs shook her head. "No. They can operate, do hormonal therapy, but it wouldn't really help the fertility thing."
"Jesus, I'm sorry, Amelia."
She wiped her face again. A sad smile blossomed on it. "Dryness and heat in the kidney."
"What?"
Sachs offered a hollow laugh. "That's what I was doing at John Sung's. Dryness and heat in the kidney--those're the reasons for infertility, according to Chinese medicine. Last night he examined me and gave me an acupressure treatment. And he's getting some herbs that he thinks'll help. That's what he just called about. Wait here." Sachs walked to the hallway, dug into her purse and returned with what Sung had just given her when she'd seen him last night. She handed the book to the detective. The title was Herbal Treatments and Acupressure Techniques to Assist Fertility.
"It turns out a lot of Western doctors recommend that women with endometriosis use Chinese medicine to treat it. Last night, when I took Lincoln upstairs we talked about it. He thought it was pretty silly but he'd noticed how upset I've been lately because of this. He's right--he said I've been distracted. It's even bothering me when I'm running scenes. So we decided I'd go ahead and see what Sung could do for me." She fell silent. Finally she said, "There's so much death around me, Lon . . . my father, my relationship with my boyfriend, Nick--when he went off to prison it was like he died. Then all the crime scenes I run. I wanted to have some life around us, Lincoln and me. I wanted so badly to fix what's wrong inside me."
Whatever it takes, look out for yourself first. If you're not whole, you'll never be able to take
care of anybody else.
Sung's treatment, she hoped, was a way to do this--to make herself whole.
Lifting his palms, Sellitto said, "I didn't know. You were real secret about it."
Angrily she said, "Because it's nobody's business but Lincoln's and mine." She nodded toward Rhyme's room. "Don't you know what he and I are to each other? How could you think I'd do something like that?"
The disorderly detective couldn't hold her gaze. "With Betty leaving and everything, I was just thinking about what happened to me." The big cop's marriage had broken up some years before. No one knew the details of Sellitto's divorce but it was a well-known fact that being married to a cop was tough and many a spouse had gone looking for a more attentive alternate. She supposed Betty had had an affair. "I'm sorry, Officer. I shoulda thought better." He extended his hand and she reluctantly shook his huge palm.
"Will that do any good?" He nodded at the book.
"I don't know," she answered. Then smiled wistfully. "Maybe."
"Back to work?" Sellitto asked.
"Sure." She wiped her eyes a final time and they returned to Rhyme's living room.
GHOSTKILL
* * *
Easton, Long Island, Crime Scene
* Two immigrants killed on beach; shot in back.