J. Jance - Left for Dead

Juanita Cisco nodded and walked away, her rubber-soled clogs squishing on the white-tiled floor. Ali waited until the nurse was out of sight, then let herself back into Jose’s room. He was awake and upset.

“If he thinks Teresa had something to do with shooting me, the man is nuts!” Jose declared. “And as for finding five thousand dollars in her dresser drawer? She’s always stressing about not having enough money to buy groceries. Where would she get that kind of money?”

“They think she’s dealing,” Ali said. “They think you are, too.”

“But I’m not,” Jose insisted. “Neither is she.”

“Then someone’s trying to frame you. Who? Do you have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Are you having problems with someone at work?”

“No, not at all. Work is good.”

“You were shot. Most of the time when cops are shot, fellow officers go to the mat for them. They come to the hospital. They offer support for the family. So tell me, why isn’t that happening? Why aren’t they here for you?”

“They haven’t been?” Jose asked. He sounded surprised and hurt. Up to now he had been medicated enough that he hadn’t noticed.

“Not as far as I know. Donnatelle Craig and I are the only cops or even semicops who have been here. I heard Sheriff Renteria dropped by for a while yesterday, but I have yet to see anyone else from the Santa Cruz Sheriff’s Department.”

Jose seemed genuinely puzzled. “That makes no sense. Why wouldn’t they be here?”

“Good question. What can you tell me about your sheriff?

“Renteria’s a good guy. We go way back. He knew my dad. His wife knew Teresa’s mother.”

“If he’s such a good guy, maybe I’ll go talk to him tomorrow,” Ali said. “Since Lattimore, the cop who’s supposed to be investigating your shooting, is apparently convinced you’re a crook, I’m hoping Sheriff Renteria doesn’t share that opinion.”

Jose nodded vaguely. The nurse had administered some kind of medication, and it seemed to be working. He was starting to drift. “Did you see the baby?” he asked. “Did you see Carmine?”

When Ali had seen the baby in the nursery, he hadn’t been given a name, at least not officially. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve seen him. He’s fine. So is Teresa.”

“And the girls will be okay with your friend?”

“They needed a break from the hospital,” Ali said. “And the hospital needed a break from them.”

“Thank you,” Jose murmured gratefully. “Thank you for everything.”

He was asleep before Ali was out of the room. She went straight to maternity. In the nursery, the nameplate on the Baby Reyes bassinet had been changed to Carmine Jose Reyes. Ali took that to mean that Teresa had recovered enough to verify the name. That was good. It was also good that the baby was asleep.

Visiting hours were officially over. There was no sign of Maria Delgado in the waiting room. Ali hoped her brother had taken her home or else to a hotel to spend the night. When Ali poked her head into Teresa’s room, she was asleep, too. The entire Reyes family had been through enough in the past few days that they were all having an early night-night. Obviously, they needed it.

Ali was on her way back to the ICU to check on Sister Anselm when her phone rang. The readout showed Stuart Ramey’s number at High Noon.

“I have some information on your mysterious flower guy,” he said.

“You ID’d him?” Ali asked. “How?”

“We’ve done a lot of work for Homeland Security lately. I’ve got an in with some of their IT guys,” Stuart said. “I asked one of my contacts to run the photos we had through their beta-release facial recognition software. Guess what? We got a hit.”

“Really?” Ali said.

“Yup. His name’s Alonzo Gutierrez. He’s an agent with the Border Patrol. Works out of the Tucson sector. That’s all I’ve got right now. I’ve got a call in asking for more info on the guy. As soon as I learn anything, I’ll be in touch.”

“Good,” Ali said. “And thank you.”

It was shocking to think that the person possibly targeting Jane Doe was an actual Border Patrol agent, an active Border Patrol agent. It didn’t matter why he was doing it; it mattered only that he was doing it. That was vital information that Sister Anselm needed to have in her possession. Now.

Ending the call, Ali took off for the ICU at a dead run.

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

Tucson, Arizona

With the Reyes family no longer in attendance, Sister Anselm noticed that the ICU waiting room outside Jane Doe’s door was relatively quiet. According to Mona, the charge nurse, Jose’s condition had improved enough that he’d been moved into a regular room. Mona also said that Teresa and her new baby were doing fine.

That was a relief. Sister Anselm was weary and feeling the effects of her long vigil. Jane Doe’s situation had worsened again during the afternoon. Sister Anselm had yet to go to All Saints. She was looking forward to it. She wanted to take a shower; to lie down; to sleep for a few hours. She knew that her phone would alert her if there was yet another crisis for her patient, someone the hospital officially listed as Jane Doe, although Sister Anselm knew otherwise.

During the afternoon, Sister Anselm had gone down to the administration offices and printed out copies of the photos Ali had forwarded to her. They were easier to see in a larger format, even if the features themselves were a little blurry. That was the real reason Sister Anselm was sticking around the ICU. She was worried that Rose Ventana’s assailant would return to try to do her harm. If that happened, Sister Anselm would most likely be Rose’s only line of defense.

While the machines murmured in the background, Sister Anselm slipped into a doze only to be startled awake by someone knocking on the door frame. The nun’s eyes popped open in time to see a man’s face appear in the doorway.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m looking for the woman who was found out by Three Points on Friday. Are you a nurse?”

There he was, the very man Sister Anselm had been worrying about all afternoon. He was dressed as he’d been in the earlier security photos-jeans and a red-and-blue U of A sweatshirt. He was carrying the Mariners baseball cap instead of wearing it.

At first Sister Anselm thought she was asleep and this was a bad dream. But no, she wasn’t. He was right there in the waiting room, outside Jane Doe’s door.

Sister Anselm hustled to her feet and planted herself defensively between the doorway and her sleeping patient. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she searched for her Taser. As her fingers closed around the weapon, she pushed back the sliding cover, exposing the trigger button. That way, when she brought it out of her pocket, the Taser would already be activated; the red laser sighting light would be glowing.

“This is an ICU,” she said firmly. “Are you a relative? If not, you’ll need to leave immediately. Only authorized relatives are allowed to visit patients in this unit.”

“Mr. Gutierrez?”

Sister Anselm heard what sounded like Ali’s voice speaking urgently from the waiting room but outside the nun’s line of vision. The man spun around to face the person who had spoken to him. As soon as he did so, Sister Anselm extracted her Taser and stepped toward the door, closing the distance between them. When she stopped moving forward, she was less than three feet from the intruder. At that distance, even a bad shot would hit the target.

He took several steps backward and moved away from the door. He glanced warily first to the left, then back at Sister Anselm, and finally down toward his chest, where two bright red laser dots had appeared.