54. Invested outcome
INVESTED OUTCOME
“Finished?” I asked Lucas as he looked up from the girl’s dead body.
“No.” he said, then stapled another section of the girl’s chest closed. “Now I am done.”
“So?” I asked, glancing at my watch.
“Intact, blunt force trauma and water in the lungs. Systematic breakdown of her organs although to say it was the head trauma would be the most likely scenario. It is unlikely the girl would have survived even without it.” He threw his gloves in the trash can, and I nodded.
I didn’t do dead bodies. Never had. He looked at me hovering in the doorway and sighed, “I know that look.”
“What did you trade her?” I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, but I asked anyway. The reason he was still playing doctor with Summer. He hated kids, and pregnant women even more.
“You know why, besides I am quite invested in the outcome of the little spawns.” He shrugged as if that was all, but it wasn’t he was holding something back.
I came inches away from his face, crowding his space. “Why do you care about a pair of twins?” I gripped his shoulder, backing him into the wall of cabinets with more force than I intended. A few items clattered inside the cabinet.
“Take your hand off me.” He said evenly, unfazed by our proximity.
“How long are you going to play doctor?” I asked, stepping away.
“As long as it pleases me, how long are you going to let her think her kids will live past infancy?” he shrugged.
“What?”
He walked calmly out of the room and then returned a moment later with a file. Flipping it open, I read over the contents, and my face whitened.
“Fuck,” I hissed reading over her blood analysis.
NTRK1 mutation — present.
“Like I said, I have an invested outcome. 50/50 chance of course.”
I didn’t answer. Still not sure if I was reading this right. I mean, I knew that any kid I had had a chance of being fucked up, but I didn’t expect Summer to have the same mutation.
“Any other life altering news you feel relevant or are we still playing games?” I asked bitterly, crumpling the page in my hand.
He shrugged, and I walked away, mind reeling with the possibilities and probabilities of the twins ending up like me. They wouldn’t survive it.
I walked away from the building as I shot off a text.
Me: She wasn’t touched.
Dustin: Good.
Me: How is she?
Dustin: Surviving
I pocketed the phone and walked toward the hospital; if things didn’t go smoothly, I would need a plan in place.