Chapter 2 - THE BABY’S HEARTBEATThe ambulance arrived in seven minutes.
I remember three of them.
The rest disappeared beneath pain.
Paramedics moved me onto a stretcher.
One asked:
“How far along?”
“Twenty-six weeks.”
“Any vaginal bleeding?”
“No.”
“Contractions?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she strike your abdomen?”
“No.”
I looked toward Dana.
Police had arrived now.
She sat in the hallway chair with one officer.
Luke stood with another.
I corrected myself.
“She tried.”
The paramedic nodded.
“What caused the fall?”
“I stepped backward when she swung the first bottle.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t think?”
“I don’t remember.”
Good.
No invention.
At Nebraska Methodist Women’s Hospital, the first thing I heard clearly was my son’s heartbeat.
Fast.
Strong.
I cried harder at that than I had during the attack.
Dr. Hannah Reece, my obstetrician, examined me.
No placental abruption.
No rupture of membranes.
No active labor.
Uterine irritability.
Bruising along my hip.
A superficial cut on my palm.
Observation.
Steroids only if contractions progressed or other signs made preterm delivery more likely.
For the moment:
Watch.
The baby was alive.
That fact became the only one my brain could hold.
Then Luke entered.
He looked terrible.
“Dana?”
“With police.”
“Arrested?”
“I don’t know.”
“Recorder?”
He held up an evidence receipt.
“Police took it after copying the active file with your consent. They asked before opening the older one.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t know who recorded it or under what circumstances.”
Of course he would care about that.
Investigator brain.
“What did you tell them?”
“That you got the recorder from me this morning.”
“Where did you get it?”
He stopped.
Then:
“Used electronics store.”
I stared.
“You bought me a used recorder?”
“I wiped it.”
“Apparently not.”
“I formatted the storage.”
“You’re bad at your job.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then:
“Apparently some devices maintain recoverable files outside the visible directory until overwritten.”
“Meaning?”
“The old recording may predate me buying it.”
“Dana recognized it.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first mystery.
May you like
Not what the file contained.
How Dana knew it existed.
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