What a silly thought. Except her brain seemed to hitch on the oddest details as if to fill empty space left by missing memories. At least the doctor reassured her it didn't appear that she'd had sex or been raped. She shuddered.
Any bruising stayed confined to her arms and ribs and Gary had been wearing his pants—even if they'd been around his ankles. All signs indicated if she'd killed him, she'd done so before penetration.
Her stomach cramped at the thought she could have taken a life, even in self-defense. She couldn't live with having killed someone, anyone, and to have known that person... Would she spend the rest of her life wondering what she could have done differently?
Or worse yet, never know.
Had she struggled and thrown him off? Or hit him with something? She was strong enough to do it after years of training on her university soccer team. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against tears so close to the surface, as if maybe she could find the memories from the night before glistening behind her eyes.
But nothing.
The shrink the E.R. had sent down for a consultation couldn't offer definitive answers, but he did say the memories could trickle back once her mind had a chance to adjust to the trauma of what happened.
Distraction. She needed a distraction and normalcy. She snagged her cell phone from the rolling tray and settled into a steel-back chair rather than the exam gurney that held too many invasive memories. The message symbol flashed on the LCD screen. No surprise. She clicked through the numbers. Two from friends and then her mother's number—four times. She wouldn't be able to hold her off much longer and she certainly didn't want her mom to panic.
She would never be able to forgive herself if her mother lost the baby because of stress Nikki rained on her family's already overloaded life. A call should buy her a little time at least. She retrieved the stored number and waited—for only a ring and a half.
"Mom, hi, it's me. What's up?"
"Nikki Janine Price, you were starting to worry me." Her mother's voice held more concern than rebuke. "Are you all right? Where are you?"
Uh-oh. She recognized that tone well. Mom already knew the answer, or at least part of it.
But she wasn't a sixteen-year-old trying to hide a C on her report card. "I'm obviously not at work."
A benign response until she figured out how much her mother already knew. She'd learned a lot about finagling words after listening to her young students try to play her.
"I know that much. I called the school to leave a message for you and they said you're home sick today. You sound stuffy."
Duh. Because she'd cried her eyes out all over a nurse about an hour ago. At least her mom didn't seem to know about Gary Owens's death yet. "I'm just a little congested, nothing a steamy shower and a nap won't fix."
Liar.
She'd held strong all morning only to lose it when the doc put her in the stirrups. God, she'd gritted her teeth through pap smears before—bleck, nobody liked those after all—but she'd already felt so exposed, violated and outright scared to death. Tears were so darn embarrassing, even though the doc had patted her knee and said to take her time while the nurse passed Kleenex and comfort. Their sensitivity only served to make extra tears well up even remembering it now.
Her emotions were so fuzzy and out of control—like standing in a batting cage with one of those baseball pitching machines, and her reflexes too muddled to keep up with everything pelting toward her. All the more reason to stay away from her mom for a couple more hours.
She would go to her mother's house this afternoon and tell her in person before the rumor mill kicked in around base. Although the fallout in the press could be limited because of the exclusively military investigation.
"You didn't pick up at home, either. Are you at the doctor's?"
Mom radar. Its accuracy was scary. "Yes, I've seen a doctor." True enough. "Why did you call in the first place?" A new fear slithered through her hazy brain. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Everything's wonderful in fact." Her mother's happiness darn near vibrated through the phone lines. "I had an ultrasound this morning and, well..."
The reason for her mother's call. Of course. "You wanted to share the excitement of the moment with someone since Dad couldn't be there."
"Pretty much, and who better to share it with than my daughter?"
Nikki pulled her tattered nerves together enough to speak a while longer, for her mom, for her dad, too. "Everything looks good?"
"Perfect so far for a forty-two-year-old mother-to-be. I just need to keep my feet up after the spotting and cramping scare." She laughed low. "Am I crazy to do this?"
"You and Dad are great parents." They'd just sucked at being married for the first twenty-two years. Now that they'd finally figured it out, they seemed determined to start over in every sense of the word, including with a new pair of kids since their first daughter and son were already grown.
She admired her mother's determination, even as she resolved not to put herself through the hell of waiting for years for a man to get his head out of his butt and commit emotionally. "Could the technician see if it's a boy or girl?"
"Yes," Rena paused, "but I want to tell your father first."