Read Online A Faint Cold Fear by Karin Slaughter - Free Book Online

her past with Rosen.
    She decided to be direct. 'We've come about your son.'
    'Andy?' Rosen asked, sinking into one of the chairs like a slowly deflating balloon. She sat there, back straight, hands clasped in her lap, perfectly composed but for the look of sheer panic in her eyes. Lena had never read anyone's expression so clearly in her life.
    The woman was terrified.
    'Is he-' Rosen stopped to clear her throat, and tears sprang into her eyes. 'Has he gotten into trouble?'
    Lena remembered Chuck. He was standing in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets as if he were watching a talk show. Before Chuck could protest, she shut the door in his face.
    'I'm sorry,' Lena said, pressing her palms against the table as she sat down. The apology was for Chuck, but Rosen took it a different way.
    'What?' the doctor pleaded, a sudden desperation filling her voice.
    'I meant-'
    Without warning, Rosen reached across the table and grabbed Lena's hands. Lena flinched, but Rosen did not seem to notice. Since the rape, the thought of touching someone or worse, being touched made Lena break into a cold sweat. The intimacy of the moment brought bile to the back of her throat.
    Rosen asked, 'Where is he?'
    Lena's leg started to shake, the heel of her foot bobbing up and down uncontrollably. When she spoke, her voice caught, but not from sympathy. 'I need you to look at a picture.'
    'No,' Rosen refused, holding on to Lena's hands as if she were hanging over a cliff and Lena was the only thing keeping her from falling. 'No.'
    With difficulty Lena freed one of her hands and took the Polaroid out of her pocket. She held up the picture, but Rosen looked away, closing her eyes like a child.
    'Dr. Rosen,' Lena began. Then, moderating her tone, 'Jill, is this your son?'
    She looked at Lena, not the photograph, hatred glowing like white-hot coals.
    Tell me if it's him,' Lena persisted, willing her to get this over with.
    Rosen finally looked at the Polaroid. Her nostrils flared and her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back tears. Lena could tell from the woman's expression that the dead boy was her son, but Rosen was taking her time, staring at the picture, trying to let her mind accept what her eyes were seeing. Probably without thinking, Rosen stroked the scar on the back of Lena's hand with her thumb as though it were a talisman. The sensation was like sandpaper on a blackboard, and Lena gritted her teeth together so she would not scream.
    Rosen finally asked, 'Where?'
    'We found him on the west side of campus,' Lena told her, so taken by the urge to jerk back her hand that her arm began to shake.
    Rosen, oblivious, asked, 'What happened?'
    Lena licked her lips, though her mouth was as dry as a desert. 'He jumped,' she said, trying to breathe.
    'From a bridge.' She stopped. Then, 'We think he-'
    'What?' Rosen asked, her hand still clamped onto Lena's.
    Lena could take no more, and she found herself begging, 'Please, I'm sorry…" A look of confusion crossed Rosen's face, which made Lena feel even more trapped. The level of her voice rose with each word, until she was screaming, 'Let go of my hand!'
    Rosen recoiled quickly, and Lena stood, knocking over her chair, moving away from the other woman until she felt her back against the door.
    A look of horror was on Rosen's face. 'I'm sorry.'
    'No.' Lena leaned against the door, rubbing her hands on her thighs like she was wiping off dirt. 'It's okay,' she said, her heart shaking in her chest. 'I shouldn't have yelled at you.'
    'I should have known…'
    'Please,' Lena said, feeling heat on her thighs from the friction. She stopped the motion, clasping her hands, rubbing them together as if she were cold.
    'Lena,' Rosen said, sitting up in her chair but not standing. She said, 'It's okay. You're safe here.'
    'I know that,' Lena said, but her voice was weak, and the taste of fear was still sour in her mouth. 'I'm fine,' she insisted, but she was still wringing her hands.
    Lena looked down,