💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › stories › pregn.txt captured on 2020-10-31 at 02:03:01.
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Pregnant Pause Dorothy Lindman A tired-looking young woman opened the door four inches and peered over the chain. "Can I help you?" He looked her over quickly. Her face was white and drawn, her eyes swollen, as if she'd been crying. Lots of them were like this; they should've thought of that before. "Mrs. Jones?" "Yes." He flipped open his wallet and showed her his badge. "Detective Lewis. Homicide. I'd like to ask you a few questions." She looked at the badge nervously and nodded. The door closed for a second, then opened again sans chain. "Please. Come in." He slipped his badge back into his pocket as he walked into the house. The living room was decorated in Generic Suburban middle-class, everything in pale blue. The normal-looking ones were always the ones to watch out for. She gestured to the sofa. "Won't you sit down?" She took a seat in the recliner, didn't lean back, sat forward at attention. "What's this all about?" He could tell she was scared. That should make it easier. He pulled out his notebook computer and tapped the screen to call up her file. "According to the hospital, your pregnancy terminated three days ago." She bit her lip. "Y-yes. The doctors said there was nothing they could do..." "That's your second miscarriage in two years, Mrs. Jones," he snapped, taking full advantage of her hesitation. "Care to explain that?" "I can't," she said weakly. Her lower lip trembled as she tried not to cry. "My doctor wants to run a complete hormone scan as soon as he can. He's afraid that... he thinks I might not be able to carry to term." That was an excuse he hadn't heard in a while. His manner softened a little, just in case she wasn't lying. "I'm sorry, but this is standard procedure. Now, how soon after conception was the pregnancy reported?" "I don't know, exactly..." His eyebrows went up. "You haven't been taking your weekly pregnancy tests? That's a misdemeanor, you know." "No, no," she said quickly. "I mean, yes, I've been taking the tests-- you can check with my doctor. What I meant was I don't know how many *days* it was. At least two, maybe three or four." He nodded and made a note of that. "Well, that's within acceptable range. No trouble there. And you went on the Diet as soon as you tested positive?" "Oh, yes." She smiled, a little, but it was mostly a sad smile. "My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for almost three years." He grunted. He'd heard that before. "I assume your husband can corroborate that. No drugs, including tobacco or alcohol?" She shook her head. "No caffeine?" Another shake, not quite so certain. "You're sure? No coffee? Tea? Cola? Chocolate?" She gave a tiny gasp. "I forgot. I... had an ice cream cone..." "And when was this?" "Um, about two weeks ago, I think. I'd have to check my dietary log." She looked at him helplessly. "I didn't want to do it. I had a craving." Another grunt. "I'll take a look at your log in a minute. Anything else you've forgotten?" "I don't think so." "Do you work outside the home, Mrs. Jones?" "Yes. I'm a customer service representative at the airport..." "Complaint department, huh? When did you go on leave?" "I had another five weeks before my mandatory leave deadline." She smiled that sad smile again. "I was going to take leave as soon as my husband got another assignment. He's a contract programmer, and things have been a little slow..." "You weren't aware that customer service representative is listed as a high-stress occupation? Mandatory leave date for HSO's is *four* months, not *six*." He glared at her accusingly and clicked his light pen off. "I'd like to see your medicine cabinet." She rose and led him to the stairs. He looked at the steps critically. "I assume you don't run up and down these stairs." "Not unless I have to." She shrank under his stare. "The only bathroom is upstairs. And then, sometimes, the cat..." He cut her off quite effectively by walking up the stairs. He glanced into the bedroom and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He clicked his pen on and began to record all the medications there, both prescription and over-the-counter. He paused at one bottle. Based on the date filled, the dosage, and a guess at the number of tablets remaining, this might be a violation. "What's this?" He turned and showed it to her. "That's for my allergies." She smiled apologetically. "This time of year, I can barely see without them." "You've been *taking* this?" She flinched. "My doctor said it was okay; he said it was on the 'Safe List'." "It was until three weeks ago. The FDA announced that this compound was shown to cause birth defects in laboratory mice, and they took it off the Safe List." She clapped her hands over her mouth. "I... I didn't know..." "Ignorance is no excuse." He pocketed the bottle and closed the medicine cabinet. "I'm going to have to take you in for questioning, Mrs. Jones." "Wh-what?" "Abuse of an unborn child, suspicion of murder." She shrank away in horror. "You think I lost the baby on