Free Genesis by Karin Slaughter Page A

Landstuhl, Germany.
As a doctor, he would know everything about her condition, which
was probably why she cringed at the thought of reaching out to him.
When fourteen-year-old Faith announced that she was pregnant,
Zeke was just hitting his senior year in high school. His mortification
and humiliation had lasted twenty-four hours, seven days a week. At
home, he had to watch his slut of a teenage sister swell up like a
blimp, and at school, he had to listen to the crude jokes his friends
made about her. It was no wonder he'd joined the military straight
out of high school.
    Then there was Jeremy. Faith had no idea how she would tell her
son that she was pregnant. He was eighteen, the same age Zeke had
been when she'd ruined his life. If boys did not want to know their
sisters were having sex, they sure as hell didn't want to hear the news
about their mothers.
    Faith had done most of her growing up with Jeremy, and now
that he was in college, their relationship was settling into a comfortable
place where they could talk to each other as adults. Sure, she
sometimes had flashes of her son as a child—the blanket he used to
drag around with him everywhere, the way he constantly used to ask
her when he was going to get too heavy for her to carry him—but
she'd finally come to terms with the fact that her little boy was now a
grown man. How could she pull the rug out from under her son now
that he'd finally gotten settled? And it wasn't just that she was pregnant
anymore. She had a disease . She had something that could be carried
in families. Jeremy could be susceptible. He had a serious
girlfriend now. Faith knew that they were having sex. Jeremy's children
could become diabetic because of Faith.
    "God," she mumbled. It wasn't the diabetes, but the idea that she
could end up being a grandmother before she hit thirty-four.
    "How are you feeling?"
    Faith looked up to find Sara Linton standing across from her with
a tray of food.
    "Old."
    "Just from the pamphlet?"
    Faith had forgotten it was in her hand. She indicated that Sara
should sit. "Actually, I was questioning your medical abilities."
    "You wouldn't be the first." She said it ruefully, and not for the
first time, Faith wondered what Sara's story was. "My bedside manner
could have been better with you."
    Faith did not disagree. Back in the ER, she had wanted to hate
Sara Linton on sight for no other reason than she was the type of
woman you'd want to hate on sight: tall and thin with great posture,
long auburn hair and that unusual kind of beauty that made men fall
all over themselves when she entered a room. It didn't help matters
that the woman was obviously smart and successful, and Faith had
felt the same knee-jerk dislike she'd felt in high school when the
cheerleaders had bounced by. She'd like to think a new strength of
character, a spurt in maturity, had allowed her to overcome the petty
response, but the truth was that it was hard for Faith to hate someone
who was a widow, especially the widow of a cop.
    Sara asked, "Have you had anything to eat since we talked?"
    Faith shook her head, looking down at the doctor's food selection:
a scrawny piece of baked chicken on a leaf of wilted lettuce and
something that may or may not have been a vegetable. Sara used her
plastic fork and knife to cut into the piece of chicken. At least she
tried to cut into it. In the end, it was more like a tearing. She moved
the roll off her bread plate and passed Faith the chicken.
    "Thanks," Faith managed, thinking that the fudge brownies she
had spotted when she walked in were much more appetizing.
    Sara asked, "Are you officially on the case?"
    Faith was surprised by the question, but then again, Sara had
worked on the victim; she was bound to be curious. "Will managed
to snag it for us." She checked the signal on her cell phone, wondering
why he hadn't called yet.
    "I'm sure the locals were very happy to step aside."
    Faith laughed,