J. Jance - Left for Dead

“The Sugarloaf has always been part of our family,” she said. “Even when I was living out of state and only home for the holidays, everything revolved around the restaurant.”

“Change is tough,” B. said. “Even change for the better.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll try to keep that in mind when I’m on my way to Tucson tomorrow.”

“What for?”

“Donnatelle called tonight. Things have just gotten way worse for Jose and Teresa Reyes. Jose’s boss, the Santa Cruz County sheriff, stopped by the hospital earlier to let Teresa, Jose’s very pregnant wife, know that evidence found at the crime scene has put Jose under suspicion of drug trafficking. And Teresa’s former mother-in-law evidently rode in on her broom this afternoon in time to hear all about the drug-dealing allegations. Now she’s questioning if her granddaughters-her deceased son’s children-are being raised in a ‘suitable’ environment. Donnatelle is concerned that she might be considering launching a custody fight.”

“Alleging drug dealing is a long way from being convicted of same,” B. observed.

“That’s true,” Ali agreed, “but with everything that’s going on, I’m not sure Teresa can make that distinction. According to Donnatelle, the scene at the hospital was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’s afraid Teresa might have a total breakdown, and she knows her pretty well. I’m going down first thing in the morning to see what, if anything, I can do to help.”

“Like what?” B. prompted.

“Like be there,” Ali said. “Sometimes that’s the only thing you can do.”

Lying awake after she got off the phone with B., Ali thought of something else she could do. While Teresa was dealing with the immediate health crisis, it probably hadn’t occurred to her that Jose might need a good criminal defense attorney every bit as much as he needed quality medical care.

In the long run and as a police officer, Jose would probably qualify for help from the Arizona Police Officer Legal Defense Fund, but that might take time and paperwork. But what about the short run? According to Donnatelle, the DPS investigator had not yet come by the hospital to interview either Jose or Teresa. Maybe that was something Ali could do-make sure that when it did happen, there would be someone on tap, looking out for their best interests.

8:00 A.M., Sunday, April 11

Tucson, Arizona

Sister Anselm hadn’t meant to spend the whole night in the ICU, but she had. Much of that time had been in the waiting room rather than in Jane Doe’s room itself.

When Sister Anselm first arrived at the hospital, her patient had been resting comfortably. Hours later, though, Jane Doe began to flail in her bed. Sister Anselm, noticing that her temperature had soared, ran to the nurses’ station to summon help. Within minutes, the room was overflowing with doctors and nurses battling what Sister Anselm had suspected to be the onset of a serious infection that might well have led to sepsis without immediate corrective measures.

The fact that Sister Anselm had alerted hospital personnel right away probably made all the difference. Although there were screens and readouts at the nearby ICU nurse’s station, the on-duty staff members were busy with other patients, and no one other than Sister Anselm had been watching the monitors.

While the staff was stabilizing Jane Doe, Sister Anselm had been banished to the waiting room, where three new sets of worried families came in, grabbing seats near their loved one’s rooms or pacing and hovering nearby.

The young woman named Teresa, clearly tired beyond bearing, was numbly coming and going from her husband’s room on an hourly basis, with her two little girls nowhere to be seen. No doubt someone-the black woman Sister Anselm had seen earlier, most likely-had collected the girls and taken them elsewhere. It probably had been done as a helpful gesture. In most instances, Sister Anselm would have agreed that hospital waiting rooms weren’t suitable places for young children. When the two girls had been present, however, Teresa had made the effort to keep it together. With them absent, she seemed to be sinking into a state of exhausted despair.

“You look like you could use some water,” Sister Anselm said, taking a seat next to Teresa and handing her a bottle she had liberated from her bag. “It’s easy to get dehydrated in places like this.”

Teresa looked at her questioningly, then opened the bottle and gulped down half the contents.

“Your husband?” Sister Anselm asked, nodding in the direction of Jose’s room. She already knew the answer. She was simply making conversation.

“Yes,” Teresa said. “His name’s Jose. I’m Teresa. Are you a nurse?”

“No,” Sister Anselm said. “My name is Sister Anselm. I’m not a nurse. I’m what’s known as a patient advocate. The doctors and nurses are dealing with my patient’s medical needs right now, which is why I’m out here. What happened to your husband?”

“He’s a deputy sheriff,” Teresa said. “He was shot last night.” She paused and looked at her watch. “About twenty-four hours ago.”

“I saw two little girls earlier. Your daughters?”

“My friend took them to a hotel. They were really tired of being here, and I don’t blame them. I’m tired of it, too.”

Sister Anselm pulled another chair within range and motioned for Teresa to put her feet up. Her ankles were swollen. So were her hands and fingers. At that stage of pregnancy, it could be a dangerous precursor to some serious medical issues.

“When’s your baby due?”

Teresa looked down at her bulging belly. “About three weeks,” she said. Her voice broke. “What if Jose dies? What if my baby never knows his father?”

“What does his doctor say?”

Teresa gave a halfhearted shrug. “That it’s touch and go. Jose lost a lot of blood, and he was lucky to survive surgery. The doctor says that the next twenty-four hours are critical.”

“So the doctors are looking after him,” Sister Anselm said kindly. “Who’s looking out for you?”

Teresa bit her lip and shook her head.

“Your baby’s a boy?” Sister Anselm continued, ignoring the lack of response.

Teresa nodded. “We’re going to name him Carmine,” she whispered. “After his grandfather. After Jose’s father. That’s one of the reasons I married Jose. I thought he’d be a good father, like his father. And now …” She paused and shook her head. “The sheriff told me this afternoon that he may be involved with dealing drugs. I can’t believe it. It doesn’t seem like him, like the Jose I know, but … I don’t know. I just can’t believe any of this is happening.”

Sister Anselm knew that was the real bottom line. The fact that Jose was injured was one thing. Learning about a possible betrayal made the situation that much worse.

“Let’s take this one thing at a time,” Sister Anselm suggested. “Your husband has been shot and may not make it. But what happens if you don’t make it? What happens to Carmine then? Who takes care of your little girls?”

Teresa shook her head. Again she didn’t answer, and she didn’t have to.

“That’s what I thought,” Sister Anselm said. “Look. There’s a sofa at the end of the room that nobody is using at the moment. I’m going to go ask the nurses for a pillow and a blanket. You lie down on that and rest for a while. I’ll look in on your husband while you’re sleeping. If his condition changes, I’ll come get you immediately. All right?”

It seemed that was all Teresa needed-permission. She nodded and then plodded over to the couch in question. Within minutes of lying down, she was deeply asleep, despite the noise and activity around her. For the rest of the night, Sister Anselm moved from the waiting room to Jose’s and then Jane Doe’s making sure that all were sleeping soundly and that the monitors showed normal levels of respiration, heart rate, and blood pressure.