J. Jance - Left for Dead

“What the hell?” he demanded. “You’ve both got Tasers? Are you women nuts?”

While he continued to back away from them, Sister Anselm moved farther into the waiting room, pulling the door to Jane Doe’s room shut behind her.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Gutierrez?” Ali demanded. She was out of breath and gasping between words. “What do you want?”

Sister Anselm had no idea how Ali knew the man’s name, but clearly, she did. At least he acted as though she did.

“I’m trying to find out if she’s alive,” Gutierrez answered. “That’s all I want to know-if she’s alive or not.”

The man didn’t appear to be armed, and he didn’t seem violent. Sister Anselm slid the lid back over the Taser’s trigger, dousing the red targeting light, but she didn’t return the weapon to her pocket. “Why do you need to know that?” She asked.

Gutierrez shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “This was a bad idea.”

“You don’t mean her any harm?”

“Are you kidding? You’re both crazy. I’ll just go.”

“No, wait,” Sister Anselm said. “You brought flowers to the hospital earlier today. Why did you do that?”

“Because before I went to talk to her parents, I wanted to know for sure that Rose Ventana was alive. I’m the guy who found her.”

There was a moment of stark silence.

“You know my patient’s real name?” Sister Anselm said incredulously. “You know my patient’s parents?”

“Not both of them. I only spoke to her stepfather.”

Ali’s laser dot switched off as well.

“You spoke to James Fox?” Sister Anselm asked. “In Buckeye?”

Gutierrez nodded. “Yes.”

“How did you know it was her?”

“I didn’t, not for sure,” Gutierrez admitted. “But I remembered seeing the rose tattoo when I found her out in the desert on Friday. Everybody thought she was an illegal. I tried to tell them that I didn’t agree, because she spoke English not Spanish, but no one paid any attention.”

“You reported that?” Sister Anselm asked.

“Yes, but it didn’t do any good, so I did some looking on my own. Then this morning I ran across a website dealing with missing persons. That’s where I found out about Rose Ventana, who went missing in Buckeye, Arizona, three years ago. I couldn’t tell from the photos if she was the one, but it seemed like a good fit. So I drove up to Phoenix to give her parents what I thought was good news. Instead, Mr. Fox sent me packing. He claims he’ll talk to the Buckeye Police Department, but until he has some kind of official verification from them, he won’t even tell her mother. I was on my way back from Buckeye, and I decided to come by the hospital. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t already dead.”

“She’s not dead,” Sister Anselm said. “She’s getting better.” Those two sentences constituted a serious breach of patient confidentiality, but at this point, she was prepared to give Mr. Gutierrez a break. She held out her hand. “I’m Sister Anselm,” she said. “This is my friend Ali Reynolds. And you are?”

“Al,” he said. “Al Gutierrez. I’m with the Border Patrol. I found her on Friday and had her airlifted to the hospital here.”

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Gutierrez. I’ve been assigned to serve as Jane Doe’s patient advocate,” Sister Anselm explained. “I’ve done my own research on the topic, and I happen to agree with you. The woman in that room most likely is Rose Ventana, but at this juncture, I must ask you to make no further effort to contact her or her family.”

“Why not? If she’s getting better, if she’s not going to die, why not tell them?”

“Because earlier this afternoon, when I asked her if she wanted me to be in touch with her family, she answered with an emphatic no.”

“She spoke to you?”

“Not in so many words. With her jaw wired shut, all she could do was shake her head, but that’s enough of an answer for me. As her patient advocate, I’m honor-bound to abide by her wishes. Like you, I tracked down the family’s current address in Buckeye. Unlike you, I’ve made no effort to contact them, and I won’t until I have her full permission to do so. I’m asking you to do the same. To let it go.”

Al had stumbled backward into the waiting room far enough to collide with a chair and collapse into it.

“But why wouldn’t she want to see them?” Al Gutierrez demanded. “Her parents, I mean. And whether she’s dead or alive, why wouldn’t they rush right down here to see her? If she were my kid, I’d want to know the minute somebody found her.”

“Not all families are alike,” Sister Anselm said. “And until she tells me otherwise, I want to abide by her wishes. Are you with me on that, Mr. Gutierrez?”

“I suppose so,” he agreed reluctantly. “But you and your friend here drew Tasers on me. You both drew Tasers. All I did was knock on her door, and you were ready to take me down.”

“I’ve been sitting here guarding her with my life,” Sister Anselm said. “Someone tried to murder her the other day. I was afraid that you were one of her assailants and that you had come back to finish the job.”

“I never meant her any harm,” Al objected. “In fact, it’s just the opposite.”

“I understand that now,” Sister Anselm said. Al Gutierrez seemed very young to her right then. Reaching out, she patted his knee. “And I’m sure Ms. Doe-we need to continue referring to her that way-will be better served if we all work together rather than at cross purposes.”

Al looked at her questioningly. “You really are a nun?” he asked.

Sister Anselm nodded. “I really am.”

“What about her?” He nodded in Ali’s direction. “Is she a nun, too?”

“No,” Sister Anselm replied. “She was with the Yavapai Sheriff’s Department for a while. Now she’s a reserve officer.”

Al looked from one woman to the other. “Well,” he said, “if you ask me, Rose is very lucky to have the two of you in her corner.”

“She’s lucky to have you in her corner, too,” Sister Anselm told him. “Even if it didn’t work out the way you expected, you weren’t wrong to try contacting her family.”

He nodded and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’d better be going.”

As the young man left the waiting room, Ali glanced at her watch. “It’s been a long day. I’d better go, too. I need to find a place to sleep.”

“How about a convent?” Sister Anselm suggested.

“A convent?” Ali asked. “I can’t quite see myself staying in a convent.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sister Anselm said. “All Saints is right up the road. That’s where I’m supposed to be staying, I just haven’t made it that far. But Sister Genevieve, the reverend mother there, is an old pal of mine. Since you’re here on an errand of mercy, I’m sure she’d be glad to take you in for a night or two.”

“Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” Ali asked. “After all, I’m not even Catholic.”

“No, you’re not, but the fact that you’re one of my friends makes up for a lot. Let me give her a call.”

6:00 A.M., Monday, April 12

Patagonia, Arizona

Phil Tewksbury didn’t exactly leap out of bed at six o’clock on Monday morning. The weekend of unaccustomed painting meant he had exercised muscles that were now mad at him. His aching right shoulder had kept him awake off and on overnight, and he felt stiff all over. Still, there was a smile on his face as he pulled on his clothes, brushed his teeth, and took some extra effort with his comb-over. Monday was the one day in the week when Ollie usually showed up, often bringing along something for a picnic. After being home with Christine all weekend long, Phil was ready.