Steven stirred. He turned over a little, grunting in his sleep.
The pain came again. Harder. She fell forward on her face, writhing in agony. The pain ripped at her, tearing at her belly. She screamed, a shrill wail of fear and pain.
Steve sat up. "For God's sake—" He rubbed his eyes and snapped on the lamp. "What the hell—"
Lori lay on her side, gasping and moaning, her eyes staring, knotted fists pressed into her stomach. The pain twisted and seared, devouring her, eating into her.
"Lori!" Steven grated. "What is it?"
She screamed. Again and again. Until the house rocked with echoes. She slid from the bed, onto the floor, her body writhing and jerking, her face unrecognizable.
Ed came hurrying into the room, pulling his bathrobe around him. "What's going on?"
The two men stared helplessly down at the woman on the floor.
"Good God," Ed said. He closed his eyes.
The day was cold and dark. Snow fell silently over the streets and houses, over the red brick county hospital building. Doctor Blair walked slowly up the gravel path to his Ford car. He slid inside and turned the ignition key. The motor leaped alive, and he let the brake out.
"I'll call you later," Doctor Blair said. "There are certain particulars."
"I know," Steve muttered. He was still dazed. His face was gray and puffy from lack of sleep.
"I left some sedatives for you. Try to get a little rest."
"You think," Steve asked suddenly, "if we had called you earlier—"
"No." Blair glanced up at him sympathetically. "I don't. In a thing like that, there's not much chance. Not after it's burst."
"Then it was appendicitis?"
Blair nodded. "Yes."
"If we hadn't been so damn far out," Steve said bitterly. "stuck out in the country. No hospital. Nothing. Miles from town. And we didn't realize at first—"
"Well, it's over now." The upright Ford moved forward a little. All at once a thought came to the Doctor. "One more thing."
"What is it?" Steve said dully.
Blair hesitated. "Post mortems—very unfortunate. I don't think there's any reason for one in this case. I'm certain in my own mind. . . . But I wanted to ask—"
"What is it?"
"Is there anything the girl might have swallowed? Did she
