The Skin Collector (Lincoln Rhyme 11)

'But Seth and me? We're moving in together.'

This soon? Still, Sachs kept the smile on her face. Was it just as fake as the teenager's?

'Are you now? Well. That's exciting news.'

Pam laughed, apparently at the disconnect between the modifier and Sachs's less-than-excited expression. 'Look, Amelia. We're not getting married. Just, it's time for this to happen. I feel it. He feels it. It's just right. We're like totally compatible. He knows me, really knows me. There're times I don't even have to say anything and he knows what I'm thinking. And he's just so nice, you know?'

'It's kind of fast, don't you think, honey?'

Pam's enthusiasm, the sparkle, dimmed. Sachs recalled that her mother, who'd beaten the girl and locked her in a closet for hours on end, had called her 'honey', and Pam had grown to hate the endearment. Sachs regretted using it but she'd been flustered and forgotten the word was tainted.

She tried again. 'Pam, he's a great guy. Lincoln and I both think so.'

This was true.

But Sachs couldn't stop herself. 'It's just, I mean, don't you really think it'd be better to wait? What's the hurry? Just hang out, date. Spend the night ... Go away on a trip.'

Coward, Sachs told herself, having given the last two suggestions, since her goal was to wedge some distance between Pam and Seth. She was negotiating against herself.

'Well, interesting you say that.'

Interesting? Sachs reflected. If she's not pregnant ... Oh, no. Her jaw tightened and the next words confirmed her fear.

'What we're going to do is take a year off. We're going to travel.'

'Oh. Okay. A year.' Sachs was simply buying time at this point. She might've said, 'How 'bout them Yankees?' Or 'I hear the sleet's going to break in a day or so.'

Pam pressed forward. 'He's sick of copywriting freelance. He's totally talented. But nobody appreciates him in New York. He doesn't complain but I can see he's upset. The ad agencies he works for, they have budget problems. So they can't hire him full-time. He wants to go places. He's ambitious. It's so hard here.'

'Well, sure. New York is always a tough place to get ahead.'

Pam's voice hardened as she said, 'He's tried. It's not like he hasn't tried.'

'I didn't mean--'

'He's going to write travel articles. I'm going to help him. I've always wanted to travel; we've talked about that.'

They had, yes. Except Sachs had always imagined that she and Pam would explore Europe or Asia. Big sister and kid sister. She had a fantasy of touring the parts of Germany her ancestors had come from.

'But school ... The statistics show it's so hard to come back after dropping out.'

'Why? What statistics? That doesn't make sense.'

Okay, Sachs didn't have any numbers. She was making that up. 'Hon - Pam, I'm happy for you, both of you. Just, well, you have to understand. This's a pretty big surprise. Fast, like I was saying. You haven't known him that long.'

'A year.'

True. In a way. They'd met last December and dated briefly. Then Seth had gone to England for training with an ad agency planning to open a New York office, and he and Pam had joined the ranks of those keeping a relationship afloat via text, Twitter and email. The company had decided not to venture into the US market, though, and Seth had come back a month ago and resumed freelance copywriting. Normal dating had

resumed.

'And so what if it's fast?' An edge to Pam's voice again. She'd always had a temper - you couldn't have her upbringing and not find anger near the surface. But she pulled back. 'Look, Amelia. Now's the time to do this. When we're this age. Later? If we get married and if we have kids?'

Please. Don't go there.

'You can't backpack around Europe then.'

'What about money? You can't work over there.'