J. Jance - Left for Dead

The two girls had been growing steadily more restless and whiny. They were bored. They wanted their mother. They wanted their father. They had exhausted all interest in the collection of stuff Donnatelle and the other grandmother had brought in hopes of keeping them occupied. They wanted to go home.

“Sure,” Ali said. “We’ll meet you out front.”

“Are we leaving?” Lucy wanted to know.

“We’re going to go meet your grandmother,” Ali told them. “Then we’re going to go check on your mom.”

A hospital wheelchair had been abandoned on the sidewalk outside the front door. Ali appropriated the chair and let both girls sit in it while they waited for Tomas to arrive in an older-model Taurus. When a frail, graying woman slowly stepped out of the passenger seat of the car, the girls went nuts. “Grandma, Grandma, Grandma,” Lucy shouted.

Ali helped Maria into the wheelchair and deposited Carinda on her grandmother’s lap, then they headed for the maternity unit with Lucy trailing behind.

Visitors back in the ICU waiting room had seemed trapped in the grip of grim despair. In the waiting room of the maternity wing, it was a different story. Here the very air seemed charged with light and an electric exuberance. Two men, each pacing nervously, were clearly expectant fathers who, for one reason or another, had chosen to await their baby’s arrival outside the delivery room rather than in it. One family group included everyone from the grandparents on down to a toddler who would be the new baby’s older sister.

Pausing by the nursery window, Ali spotted a bassinet with a hand-lettered card saying BABY REYES. Inside, a tiny, red-faced infant slept peacefully. Donnatelle had told Ali that Teresa had said the baby would be named Carmine. The “Baby Reyes” designation worried Ali and made her wonder if Teresa was okay.

While Maria Delgado tottered off to find a nurse, Ali held the two excited girls up to the nursery window one at a time so they could glimpse their baby brother. When Maria returned, Lucy raced up to her.

“Where’s Mommy?” Lucy asked. “Can we go see her?”

Maria shook her head. “Not right now.” To Ali she said, “There have been some complications. Preclamp something-”

“Preeclampsia,” said Ali.

“Yes, that’s it,” Maria said. “They had to do an emergency C-section. She’s in the recovery room.”

“What’s a C-section?” Lucy parroted.

“Don’t worry,” Maria told her granddaughter. “It’s nothing.”

Ali knew it wasn’t nothing. It could, in fact, be very bad.

Weeks earlier, as part of her reading-the-classics project, Ali had read A Tale of Two Cities from cover to cover, metaphorically speaking, since she had read the book on her iPhone. It occurred to her that for Jose and Teresa Reyes, these were both the best and worst of times. Their son had arrived perfectly formed and in what looked like good health and with a bright future ahead of him. All that was cause for rejoicing. But for the boy’s parents? Not only had Jose’s body been compromised by injuries sustained in the shooting, but his career in law enforcement, as well as his very freedom, might be in jeopardy. As for Teresa? Ali wondered how would she manage to care for three young children by herself in the aftermath of her own major surgery.

It was clear that Teresa’s mother was more than willing to help out, but Ali could see that Maria Delgado’s physical condition severely limited what she could realistically do. Ali was willing to help out, too, but not indefinitely. She wanted to be back in Sedona soon so she could participate in the garden planting project. She for sure had to be home by the following Sunday. That was when the two new Askins scholarship winners were due to come to their individually scheduled sessions of tea.

That was when it hit her. Two of her previous Askins winners, the ones from three years ago, were here in Tucson going to school. Haley Marsh, who had finished high school as the single mother of a two-year-old, was a junior honors student in the University of Arizona’s nursing program. A five-year-old of her own qualified her as experienced in looking after little kids. Maybe she’d be willing to pick up some pocket money by helping Teresa. Before Ali could call and ask, however, her phone sent an alert that she had received a text message.

Ali herded the girls and their grandmother into the maternity waiting room, then stepped back into the hallway to check her phone. By then there were several messages, all of them from Stuart Ramey, all of them featuring photographs of the man the hospital receptionist had described to Sister Anselm-red sweatshirt, baseball cap, carrying the potted plant. Even in the tiny image on Ali’s iPhone, the guy looked furtive, like he was deliberately concealing his face from the security cameras.

Ali was looking at the last photo when her phone rang with a voice call. This time Stuart was on the phone. “I think you and Sister Anselm could be on to something,” he said. “Your guy looks suspicious as hell to me. He did a pretty good job of keeping his face from showing. He sure could be up to no good.”

“The images you sent me are the best ones?”

“Yes.”

Ali was discouraged. She had hoped that the photos would be a lot clearer. “Other than the clothing which could easily be changed, the photos don’t give us much to go on.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Stuart said. “I’m working another angle.”

“What’s that?”

“I probably shouldn’t do it and for sure shouldn’t talk about it on the phone,” Stuart replied. “If it works, I’ll let you know.”

With that, he hung up. Ali went back to the waiting room. With Maria worried about Teresa, Ali decided to take the girls with her to Jose’s waiting room. “I have an idea,” she told them. “Why don’t we go see if anybody has told your daddy about your brother?”

As the girls dashed ahead, Ali pulled out her phone. “Hey,” she said when Haley Marsh answered. “How would you like to earn a few extra bucks doing some fill-in babysitting?” While Ali was talking to Haley, Lucy and Carinda disappeared into the ICU waiting room. They immediately bounded right back out.

“He’s gone,” Lucy wailed. “He’s not there anymore. They took him away. Daddy’s bed’s gone, too.”

Worried, Ali quickly ended the call. Fortunately, the charge nurse came hurrying out on the girls’ heels.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We moved your daddy to a different room, one where you can go see him. And I’m sure he’d like to see you, too. He was awake the last I saw, and he can talk, but he’s still very sick. You have to promise to use hand sanitizer before you go into his room. Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “Can Carrie come, too?”

“Both of you,” the charge nurse said. “One other thing. You have to be very gentle around your daddy. You can’t get on his bed, and he won’t be able to hold you. He has a big owie on his tummy. Do you think you can remember all that?”

Lucy nodded. “Can we go right now? Should we bring a Band-Aid for his owie?”

The charge nurse shook her head. “I’m not sure a Band-Aid will do the trick.”

Lucy was already on her way out the door, but Ali caught her and dragged her back. “Just a minute,” Ali said. “I need to see Sister Anselm for a moment. You two wait right here.”

Ali went as far as the doorway to Jane Doe’s room and tapped on the frame. Both patient and attendant seemed to be sleeping. Sister Anselm came to attention and hurried over to the door. She might not have been as spry as usual, but considering she had just done an all-nighter, Ali was impressed.

“What’s up?” Sister Anselm asked.