Beyond Reach by Karin Slaughter

mother had a point. On the other hand, her father was probably dragging out the chore in order to prolong his life.
    “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
    “Yes, Mama,” Sara lied. She was wearing thick socks, but she used her big toe to prod a green M&M that seemed to be stuck in the carpet by the window. “Two hours.”
    Her mother was silent for a moment, then said, “Tell me what happened.”
    Sara gave up on the M&M when her sock kept getting stuck to the candy. She resumed pacing. “I told you what happened. I let her escape. I might as well have opened the door for her and driven her to the airport.”
    “Not that,” Cathy insisted. “You know what I’m talking about.”
    It was Sara’s turn to sigh. She was almost glad she’d made a fool of herself last night at the hospital because Lena’s rapid departure had given Sara a new thing to toss and turn over when she was supposed to be sleeping. Now her mother’s question brought the malpractice suit firmly back into her consciousness.
    Sara told her, “I would say their strategy is to claim that because I was attacked ten years ago, I was too distracted to tell the Powells that Jimmy had leukemia, and that he died because I waited an extra day.”
    “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
    “Their lawyer can be pretty persuasive.” Sara thought about the lawyer, her Tourette’s-like crocodile smile. “She even had me convinced.”
    Another cabinet was opened and closed. “I can’t believe that another woman would do this to you,” Cathy said. “It’s disgusting. This is why women will never get ahead: other women are constantly cutting them off at the knees.”
    Sara held her tongue, not in the mood for one of her mother’s feminist lectures.
    Cathy offered, “I can come home if you need me.”
    Sara nearly dropped the phone. “No. I’m fine, really. Don’t ruin your vacation because of—”
    “Shit,” her mother hissed; it was rare that an expletive crossed her lips. “I have to go. Your father just set himself on fire.”
    “Mama?” Sara pressed the phone to her ear, but her mother had already hung up.
    Sara held the phone in her hand, wondering if she should call back, deciding that if something had been really wrong, her mother would have sounded less annoyed. Finally, she returned the phone to the cradle and went over to the large plate glass window looking out into the motel parking lot. Sara had kept the drapes closed most of the morning, thinking sitting alone in the dark room was less bleak than staring out into the empty lot. Now, she opened the polyester drapes a few inches, letting in a thin ray of light.
    The table and set of white plastic lawn chairs by the window seemed perfect companions to the dismal view. Sara adjusted the threadbare towel she’d draped over one of the chairs and sat down. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, but the thought of getting back into bed, sliding between the rough, yellowing sheets, was too much to bear.
    She had walked across the street earlier in the morning to buy coffee and ended up purchasing some Comet with bleach additive and a sponge that smelled like it had already been used. Her thought had been to tidy the room, or at least make the bathroom less disgusting, but every time she thought about taking the supplies in hand and actually using them, Sara found that she didn’t have the energy. What’s more, if she was going to clean anything, it should be her own home.
    She tried to list the chores she could be doing back in Grant County right now: folding the laundry piled on the bed in the spare room, fixing the leak in the bathroom sink, taking the dogs for a walk around the lake. Of course, the reality was that Sara had done none of these tasks in the weeks since she’d closed the clinic. For the most part, she’d sat around the house brooding about the lawsuit. When her sister called from Atlanta, Sara had talked about the lawsuit. When Jeffrey got home from