Sachs nodded.
"Breast cancer. Wasn't too advanced but the doctor said they probably should do a double radical. And that's what they did."
"I'm sorry," Sachs said, frowning with sympathy. "You go through the treatments?"
"Yup. Was bald for a while. Interesting look." She sipped more of the iced tea. "I'm three and a half years in remission. So far, so good." Lucy continued, "Really threw me for a loop, that happening. No history of it in my family. Grandmother's healthy as a horse. My mom's still working five days a week at the Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Reserve. She and my dad hike the Appalachian two, three times a year."
Sachs asked, "You can't have kids because of the radiation?"
"Oh, no, they used a shield. It's just... I guess I'm not inclined to date much. You know where a man's hand goes right after you kiss serious for the first time..."
Sachs couldn't argue with that.
"I'll meet some nice guy and we'll have coffee or something but in ten minutes I start to worry about what he's going to think when he finds out. And I end up not returning his phone calls."
Sachs said, "So you've given up on a family?"
"Maybe, when I'm older, I'll meet a widower with a couple grown kids. That'd be nice."
She said this casually but Sachs could hear in her voice that she'd repeated it to herself often. Maybe every day.
Lucy lowered her head, sighed. "I'd give up my badge in a minute to have children. But, hey, life doesn't always go in the direction we want."
"And your ex left you after the operation? What's his name again?"
"Bud. Not right after. But eight months later. Hell, I can't blame him."
"Why do you say that?"
"What?"
"That you can't blame him?" Sachs asked.
"Just, I can't. I changed and ended up being different. I turned into something he hadn't bargained for."
Sachs said nothing for a moment then she offered, "Lincoln's different. About as different as they come."
Lucy considered this. "So there's more to you two than just being, what would you say, colleagues?"
"That's right," Sachs said.
"Thought that might be the case." Then she laughed. "Hey, you're a tough cop from the big city.... How do you feel about children?"
"I'd like some. Pop--my father--wanted grandkids. He was a cop too. Liked the idea of three generations on the force. Thought People magazine might do a story on us or something. He loved People."
"Past tense?"
"Died a few years ago."
"Killed on his beat?"
Sachs debated but finally answered, "Cancer."
Lucy said nothing for a moment. Looked at Sachs in profile, back to the lockup. "Can he have children? Lincoln?"
The foam was down in the cup of beer and she sipped in earnest. "Theoretically, yes."
And chose not to tell Lucy that this morning, when they were at the Neurologic Research Institute in Avery, the reason that Sachs had slipped out of the room with Dr. Weaver was to ask if the operation would affect Rhyme's chances of having children. The doctor had said that it wouldn't and had started to explain about the intervention necessary that would enable her to get pregnant. But just then Jim Bell had showed up with his plea for help.