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The dispensary door gaped, and her hands shuddered as she grabbed the jamb and pulled herself around the door frame.
“Adam!”
His body lay crumpled on the floor. Blood seeped onto the tile from his head.
“Help! ¡Socorro!” She dropped to Adam’s side, feeling for a pulse. It was faint and unsteady. She pushed back his blood-soaked hair and saw a wound. Fear gripped her. Gunshot to the head? She looked again and saw no entry wound.
Kate’s focus flew downward where the front of Adam’s green lab coat had begun to turn a reddish brown. Blood. He’d been shot in the chest.
“¡Dios mio! No.” Carmen’s high-pitched wail echoed in the doorway.
Kate pivoted toward the voice.
Carmen stared at Adam’s body, wide-eyed, while her fingers outlined the sign of the cross on her chest. “¿Quién hizo esto?”
“I don’t know who did this,” Kate answered. She waved her hand toward the hallway. “Find Dr. Reese.”
Carmen stood as if not hearing, her hands clasped near her throat as if in prayer.
“Hurry! ¡Vaya!”
“Sí,” Carmen cried as she fled from the room.
“Adam,” Kate intoned, hoping to rouse him. The blood oozed a darker, wider circle on his surgical jacket as Kate’s fear deepened. “Adam, listen to me. Hang on.”
Kate froze as another shot rang out in the distance. Her mind and body caught on a whirlwind of frenzy and fear. Who? What? Why? Questions ricocheted through her thoughts like buckshot. Dr. Reese? Dr. Valenti? Dr. Eckerd? Who was the victim this time?
Kate pulled open the lab coat, then unbuttoned his shirt and gaped at the entry wound—the torn, burned flesh brought bile to her throat. She rose and grasped sterile pads from the shelves.
Near the doorway, she saw a carton and forced it beneath Adam’s legs to elevate them. Then she pulled a blanket from a nearby shelf and covered him to ward off shock.
Kneeling, she pressed the sanitary packing against the pulsing wound. She listened to his ragged breathing as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. The shallow, raspy sound punctuated her panic.
Her fingers shifted again to his pulse, feeling the soft, erratic beat. Lord, keep him safe. Kate uttered the words over and over like a litany. With her other hand, Kate ran her finger along his death-white cheek, feeling the prickle of whiskers and longing to see his eyes open. Fearful, she lifted his lid and viewed only white sclera. The bright blue irises that often sent her heart spinning hid behind the socket where a sliver of color remained.
Tears pooled along her lashes, and hopelessness crushed her as she waited for Dr. Gordon Reese. Adam needed a surgeon and none were on duty tonight, and she knew Carmen would have to summon him from the nearby living quarters.
“Adam, you’ll be all right. Hang on. Just lie still until we find out if anything’s broken.” She gazed at the handsome man lying inert beside her. He struggled for breath, and his chest shuddered with each attempt.
She checked her watch while her prayerful litany continued until the sound of running footsteps riveted her attention to the doorway.
Gordon Reese dashed into the room, his face drawn and ashen. “What’s happened?” He knelt beside Kate, his trained eye studying the situation. “He needs a chest tube. The bullet punctured a lung.”
Kate rose and waved Carmen from the doorway where she hovered, her hands clutched against her chest. “Get the gurney. Over here.” She pointed to the metal table, in case the woman didn’t understand.
Carmen nodded and eased around their crouched forms to fetch the stretcher stored along the wall.
“I heard another shot,” Kate said. “Have you seen Dr. Eckerd? Dr. Valenti? Anyone?”
“No,” Gordon Reese said, trying to hoist the bulk of Adam’s body upward. “When we get him on the gurney, hang an IV. A thousand cc’s. He’ll need blood.”
As she struggled to lift Adam, Dr. Valenti tore into the room. “What is this? What happened?” Blood rolled from his lip to his chin, and he looked shaken. “I struggled with them outside. Two men. One escaped, but I wrestled a gun from the other one. I shot him. I think he’s dead.”
“Dead?” Kate rose and beckoned Dr. Valenti to take her place. “Carmen.” She motioned to the woman gawking from the hallway. “Call the police.”
Carmen hurried away, and Kate prepared the IV while the doctors lifted Adam to the stretcher.
“We’ll take care of this. Just hang the bag and then call Vance Memorial,” Dr. Reese ordered. “We need to know if they want to airlift Adam back to Colorado Springs or somewhere else.”
She nodded, spinning on her heel, and headed to the telephone. Her fingers trembled as she punched in the numbers. The time dragged as she waited for a connection to the United States, then to speak with the hospital director at Vance Memorial. She grappled to concentrate on her conversation as she described the situation. Her thoughts were on Adam and the two doctors working to save his life.
The director’s order halted her thoughts when she heard his decree. “I want the team back. I want you all to come home. We’ll send our staff back only after we have some answers.”
“You want the team back? But what about—?”
“The other doctors can stay and run the facility. I want the Vance Memorial team here.”
“Sir, I need to tell you that Dr. Valenti had a run-in with one of the burglars and shot him.”
“He what? Never mind. They’ll need him for questioning. Valenti can stay, but I want the rest of you to return. I’ll order Medevac to airlift Adam home. You and Dr. Reese fly with him if you can.”
“All right, sir,” Kate said, shocked at the director’s orders. “They’re operating now. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do that…and be careful. All of you.”
She didn’t have enough strength to agree or fight for the clinic’s needs. When she hung up, she hurried to the operating room with his words ringing in her head.
Peeking through the small window, Kate watched Dr. Reese and Dr. Valenti hover over Adam. Fear had rankled her reasoning skills. Flying home meant she had things to do and fast.
Before she could act, Carmen appeared at her side with three men, two dressed in navy-blue short-sleeved shirts with patches on the sleeve, officers from the Santa Maria de Flores police department, and the third in plainclothes. Detective or vice squad, Kate figured.
In her minimal Spanish she explained what she knew, using Carmen as an interpreter when necessary. Their questions backlashed through her head—had she heard sounds or smelled strange odors, were doors opened or closed, were there witnesses to the shooting and who had been in the dispensary since the crime?
When she explained about Adam’s surgery, the detective’s glower let her know they’d contaminated the crime scene. How could she explain they couldn’t stand back and let Adam die? She only shook her head and showed them the surgery taking place inside the operating room. The detective looked through the window, gave instructions to the officers, then walked away.
The younger man quizzed her again, taking down names and facts that Kate could remember while the other officer listened.
“Come,” she said, guiding the young men to the dispensary. She led them along the corridor, and as they reached the doorway, the detective stepped in from the delivery entry and followed them.
She motioned the men inside, her stomach churning at the pool of blood on the floor. Not just blood, but Adam’s blood. She indicated where she’d found him, his position on the floor. From that location, one officer measured distances and angles, speculating from the drugs found on the floor where the looters had stood.
The other officer donned plastic gloves and moved about so as not to disturb evidence any more than the medical staff had destroyed earlier. While Kate watched from the hallway, the younger man pried what appeared to be two bullets from the wall beside the doorway and dropped them into plastic bags.
The detective turned his attention to a blood stain on the corner of a storage cabinet. Kate suspected it was where Adam had struck his head in the fall, the reason for the gaping wound above his temple.
They worked with speed, measuring and taking notes. When they finished, one officer closed the door and cordoned off the room.
Kate gaped at the closed door blocking their medical supplies. Somewhere in her addled mind, she thought of the people who depended on the clinic for their health-care needs. Sadness turned to anger and the emotions mingled with the fear and bewilderment that already overwhelmed her.
Outside the dispensary, the detective pointed to the delivery door. “Do you keep this locked?”
Carmen, lingering on the sidelines, translated. “Yes, always.”
He opened the door and Kate followed. Outside she could see the body on the ground while officers huddled around. The detective shooed her away, but she peeked at the doorjamb anyway, wondering if it had been pried open. She saw nothing—no marks or dents. She looked closer, but the irate man ordered her away for a second time.
Kate moved inside and hurried toward the operating room. She had nothing to do now but follow orders and prepare to leave. Her breath came in gasps as she neared the surgeon. Would Adam make it back to Colorado Springs alive?
She couldn’t bear to think otherwise.
Kate’s body trembled with exhaustion as she willed her eyes to stay focused. She looked around the surgical waiting room at Vance Memorial Hospital, with its drab yellow walls and unimpressive framed prints. She shifted on the plastic upholstery and eyed her rumpled blouse and pants she’d worn for the past twenty hours.
The chaos of those past hours filled her mind. The surgery at the clinic, the fear, the questioning, the packing, the waiting.
She had flown back in the Medevac with Adam clinging to life with his falling blood pressure and faltering pulse. The problem had been what she feared—internal bleeding. Now she waited with Adam’s parents for his second surgery.
Kate eyed her watch. Nearly two hours. She’d told his folks everything she knew about the horrible incident. The details lay muddled in her overtaxed mind, and she was glad they’d accepted her patchy description.
“Rats.” Adam’s father slammed his fist on the table beside his chair and sent the lamp teetering before it settled in place. “What are they doing?”
“Frank,” Liza Montgomery said to her husband, her voice calm and hushed, “be patient.”
“Patient! I’ve been more than patient. I don’t understand what’s keeping them.” He rose, unfolding his tall, stocky frame, and paced in front of them.
Kate scrutinized the Montgomerys and wondered if she should infringe on their privacy. Her nurse’s persona took over, and she leaned forward. “Adam has internal bleeding, Mr. Montgomery. That may take time to repair…depending on where they find the problem and how extensive the damage is.”
She glanced at her watch again, realizing only a minute had passed since she’d last looked. “The doctor should be in soon, I’m sure.”
Frank ran his thick hand through his bushy white hair and gazed at her with vivid blue eyes canopied by shaggy white brows.
His eyes unnerved her; they were the same shade of blue as Adam’s.
He gave her a subdued nod, then settled back into the chair and folded his hands in front of him while he stared at the floor.
Kate wondered if he were praying. Though he was arrogant as a peacock, Adam, she knew, was a Christian. Kate guessed his father was, too.
“So tell us about yourself, Katherine,” Liza said, gazing at her with amazing green eyes and a kindly smile.
Kate froze at the suggestion. Talking about herself fell somewhere in her list of favorite activities between cleaning the toilet and scrubbing out the trash cans.
“Not much to tell,” she said, hoping to dissuade the woman without being rude.
“Tell us about your work at Doctors Without Borders. Adam tells us so little.”
Kate relaxed. She could talk about the clinic. “It’s challenging. We deal with poverty, primitive conditions and a language barrier. We all speak a little Spanish—very little in some cases.” She gave them a halfhearted grin, the first she’d displayed in many hours. “But despite the problems, we feel blessed to provide care to people who would have none if we weren’t there.”
Liza shifted her rounded frame to face Kate more directly while she pushed back a graying blond curl from her rosy cheek. “I’m sure it’s rewarding, and you’re serving people just as our dear Lord has told us to do.”
“Yes. We’re making a difference,” Kate agreed, filling the time by sharing stories of their living facilities, the patients they’d treated, the long hours they worked. “But it’s beautiful, too,” Kate said. “In spring the trumpet trees blossom with flowers. Mauve, rose, white. So lovely. The coconut palms get heavy with fruit. And the lagoon with the thick mangrove islands. And birds of every color. It glorifies the Lord’s handiwork.”
Liza’s smile brightened. “You’re a Christian.”
“Yes. My mother depended on the Lord to get us through…” Kate let the words slide. “Get us through” was more than Kate meant to share about the past. Without prayer and God’s presence, her childhood would have been devastating.
“Does your mother live nearby?”
Kate tried to cover her sadness. “No, she died of cancer when I was eighteen.”
Liza’s face skewed with sympathy. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.”
“That was fifteen years ago. I’ve learned to accept it. I like to think God has a purpose for everything.” Her words sounded correct, but so often Kate wished her mother had lived so today she could provide her mother with the home and security she’d never had.
“You’re so right. And she must have been a wonderful mother to give you such a good upbringing…and look at you. You’re a nurse. I’m sure she would be proud.”
Kate gave her a nod. “Yes, she would have been. I wish she knew.”
“Perhaps she does, dear. We just never know.”
Frank’s patience had reached its limit. He bounded from the chair and strutted across the room to the volunteer’s desk. Kate watched him pointing to his watch and to the telephone. She was sure the poor woman felt intimidated. He was a powerful, impressive man, and being the mayor of Colorado Springs, he was a man who expected action. Today he wasn’t getting it.
The attendant held firm, and soon Adam’s father turned away, grabbed a cup of coffee from the dispenser and carried it back to the chair. “Anyone want any of this stuff? It’s so strong, it could stand alone without a cup.”
Kate could attest to that. The acrid smell drifted toward her and curdled her stomach. She shook her head.
Liza sent him a “No, thank you,” then leaned closer to Kate. “Frank has no patience. I wish he could learn that not everyone jumps at his bidding.”
Kate only smiled.
“I volunteer here, and I always feel badly for folks who have to wait so long for their loved ones,” Liza said.
“You’re a volunteer at Vance Memorial?”
“Yes. I’m usually at the front information desk, but I fill in where needed. Like I said, God wants us to do for others. Since I’m not a nurse or a doctor like Adam, I help in this way.”
“What a lovely thing to do,” Kate said. She knew many rich women would spend their time at a country club or garden club meeting…all kinds of social soirées, but here was a woman who did something for others.
“I sit on the board of the Galilee Women’s Shelter, too. We do fund-raisers for the facility, help out however we can.”
Kate’s throat tightened, and she swallowed the emotion that strangled her. “Such a worthy cause. That must be very fulfilling.”
“Indeed. It’s sad to learn how many women—sometimes even children—pass through its doors.”
“I can imagine,” Kate said, holding back the feelings that continued to swell inside her. “I’m familiar with that center and its work. I’ve always admired the people who make it an option for women.”
Liza’s gaze searched hers, as if trying to read into her comment, sending a queasy feeling to Kate’s stomach.
“Our big fund-raiser is coming up in a few months,” Liza said.
Kate breathed a relieved sigh. She was grateful Liza hadn’t probed about her personal life.
