Not that she was hungry, but she owed it to the baby to eat, and anyway Lucia had called a little while back, apologetic for taking time out for an electrical problem at home. ‘I’ll bet you haven’t eaten anything,’ Lucia had said. ‘Not much,’ Grace had admitted. ‘You have to eat, Dr Lucca, you know that, for the baby’s sake.’ Grace had made herself a small pasta salad, but now that she’d sat down to eat it at the kitchen table, Woody by her feet, she found she could hardly see the food for tears. Too much. Their son had been meant to come into the world with a young doctor-to-be for its uncle, and God only knew what would become of Saul’s plans now, his study on hold for many months, at least. The baby’s big sister was out somewhere with the person who had done that to Saul, who might even, it seemed possible, be a multiple killer. And what had happened to her own judgment skills?
