Jacqueline Diamond - The Doctor + Four

“Sounds like a hot time.”

Barry enjoyed being around this sharp-edged woman. He had a fleeting image of her in bed, a high-voltage bundle of sexual impulses. Tantalizing. And dangerous to reflect on. “I’m at your disposal.”

“I apologize for threatening you earlier, Mr. Lowell.” She released a long breath. “Under normal circumstances, I don’t act that way.”

He stopped at a red light. “Nobody addresses me as Mr. Lowell except my lawyer, and I prefer to hear from him as little as possible.”

If he’d expected a smile, Sonya failed to comply. “Gina’s in labor. She’ll deliver tonight or tomorrow, and it’s not going to be pretty. Sorry, but I’ve temporarily lost my sense of humor.”

“I understand your concern, but you could have been killed,” he reminded her. “Other doctors don’t risk kidnappings and gunfights to pursue their patients. Why’s the girl so important?”

“A friend of mine died from a messed-up pregnancy when I was in high school.” With the back of her hand, she brushed aside a tear. “Those guys and their stupid argument over a debt! Can you believe them? As if it mattered!”

“It matters to them,” Barry noted. “I’ve seen men kill for less.”

In prison, he’d had to adapt to an entirely new culture, and fast. Fortunately, his fellow inmates had valued his help in writing pleas for money, visits and retrials. Although his balancing act hadn’t always worked—witness the scar—he’d mostly managed to stay on the right side of the various factions.

Her hands clenched. “Just help me find Gina, okay?”

“Sure thing.” He entertained no illusions about where he stood. If he got in the way of Dr. Vega’s rescue attempt, she’d sacrifice him without a qualm. Okay, maybe with a slight qualm.

The journey might be worth his while, though. He’d like to find out what knife had twisted inside Sonya’s gut to make her so guarded. And he wouldn’t object to saving a life or two, either.

Thank goodness word of his soft side wasn’t likely to travel back home. He’d hate to ruin his reputation as a curmudgeon.

When the light changed and Barry started forward, Sonya grabbed the edge of her seat. Startled, he looked for whatever had frightened her, but saw only a placid flow of traffic. “Does my driving bother you?”

She released her grip. “I was in a bad accident a couple of years ago. We got hit without warning.”

That might explain the darkness he sensed. “We? Was someone killed?”

“No. The other motorist had a few bruises, and I went to the hospital for several weeks. The man I…the driver in my car emerged just peachy.”

He noted the hesitation in reference to her male companion. A key to the past, indeed. “You recovered.”

“It took a while.”

He had a good grasp of the arduous process involved in physical therapy. “Something similar happened to my mother. A tractor smashed into her car and left her a paraplegic.” She’d been on the way home from conducting an interview at dusk. In the aftermath, Barry had moved home to take over the family paper.

“Was anyone else hurt?” Sonya asked.

“No. The farmer got off without a scratch, and Mom was alone in the car.” Although her injuries restricted her ability to write, Barry treasured the insightful articles she still occasionally contributed to the Gazette. “I’m glad you survived in one piece.”

Sonya tapped the dashboard. “We have to figure out where they’ve gone.”

He refocused on their target: a pregnant girl about to give birth. “If she’s in labor, why not a hospital?”

“Her idiot boyfriend has convinced Gina that childbirth is a natural process, which I guess means she’s supposed to drop the baby in the field. In truth, I think he wants to keep her under his thumb.”

She continued explaining as Barry navigated the busy downtown. Apparently, Duke was a drug user and occasional dealer who’d run afoul of several suppliers, including Frankie. He moved frequently and never left a forwarding address.

The doctor got busy instant-messaging Gina’s friends. She was too thin, Barry thought, stealing a sideways glance. Worried too much, didn’t eat properly and worked long hours, he guessed.

While scanning the sidewalk on the off chance that Gina was simply wandering through the area, he mulled her options. What about a midwife? A few years ago, his community had lost both its doctors, a married couple, when they’d retired. Until a new physician had arrived, a registered nurse midwife named Estelle Fellows had handled routine cases and referred complicated pregnancies to specialists in a nearby town.

Sonya checked her cell phone and registered dismay. “Nobody’s heard a word.”

Barry slowed as he spotted two young women walking together. One was pregnant but, on closer inspection, bore little resemblance to Gina. “Maybe she’s consulting a midwife.”

“Licensed midwives around here are usually affiliated with medical groups. When she passed her due date and skipped an appointment, I put out word she’s missing and possibly in danger. If she shows up at one of them or at a hospital, I’m hoping we’ll get a request for medical records and our staff will page me.”

“Very efficient.” Barry considered it reassuring that the institutions in highly populated Orange County at least cooperated. “Does she remain your patient?”

“That’s up to her. She has the right to choose her physician. All I care about is that she receives proper treatment.” Leaning against the seat cushion, she rested her eyes.

“On your feet all day?” Barry hazarded.

“Eight deliveries.”

He whistled and waited for further comment. No elaboration. She was a woman of few words, unlike his sister, who could argue him to a standstill.

What about an alternative healer, someone isolated from medical authorities? “There might be an unlicensed midwife,” he suggested.

Sonya sat up straighter. “I should have thought of that! There’s a woman named Lourdes Garcia who delivers babies with no red tape. I met her once when she brought a woman to the hospital in an emergency.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Mrs. Garcia is smart enough to recognize when she’s in over her head.”

The implicit contradiction aroused Barry’s curiosity. “If she’s operating illegally, why hasn’t she been arrested?”

“A lot of undocumented immigrants in Southern California are scared of authorities. I’d certainly prefer that mothers employ Mrs. Garcia rather than give birth unaided.” Sonya took out a personal organizer, apparently seeking a phone number.

“Got an idea where she works?”

“Usually, she goes to patients’ residences, if they have one. But it’s possible Gina’s girlfriend knows where she lives. Hold on.” After dialing, she spoke tersely and listened for a minute, then hung up. “Okay, I’ve got the address. Turn right at the next corner.”

He followed directions as she guided him through Fullerton, her small body leaning as if to urge greater speed. Eagerness must have displaced her fear of an accident.

“I’ve met some dedicated physicians, but none as involved as you. Don’t you have a private life, Doc?” he queried as he drove.

“Why should you care?” she snapped.

“I’m insatiably curious. It’s one of my finer characteristics.”

“Oh? What are your less pleasant ones?” She indicated an upcoming turnoff. “Right at the real-estate office.”

They veered onto a side street. “I’m antisocial. Hate small talk. Crabby. Sometimes forget to shower on deadline.”

“Women must adore you in—where did you say you’re from?”

They reached a modest residential street lined with cottages and a few duplexes. Across the way, an elderly man walked a dog. On the corner, a couple of kids dodged and squealed as they zapped each other with Silly String.