Fatal Divide (25 page)

He ended the call quickly and went for a walk along the water. Froze his ass off. Tomorrow’s first errand would be to get the right kind of clothes for this place.

It wasn’t until he got back to the apartment that he finally used his primary phone, the one he bought here in Anchorage, to call Dylan. The call went to voice mail. Jimmy ended the call without leaving a message. Dylan would call back, once he saw the Alaska area code on the missed call.

Jimmy was satisfied with his day’s work. So far, everything was going according to the plan he’d made when Dylan first suggested sending him somewhere that lacked
Los Reyes
presence. For a plan that he’d hatched on the fly, it looked pretty good.

FIFTY-FOUR

The doctor had come and gone, but Wanda still sat by Hector’s side, numb with disbelief, pain, and exhaustion. It wasn’t going to get better, not according to the doctor. After nearly four days, it was certain that Hector was in a coma, and the prognosis for him coming out of it wasn’t good.

The doctor, Wanda couldn’t remember his name, explained that Hector most likely had bleeding in the brain, which caused it to swell and push down on the brain stem.  The cardiac arrest he suffered yesterday was undoubtedly related, and would probably be repeated. Without continued hospitalization, Hector wouldn’t live long.

Wanda asked about moving him to a bigger facility in Tucson, one where there was more sophisticated equipment. She didn’t mention better doctors, but it was understood. She wanted specialists. The resident shook his head.

“It’s too late,” he said, not without sympathy. “The damage is already done, and I wouldn’t expect it to be reversible.” He patted her on the shoulder, the same way he would a kid with a sore throat. Didn’t he realize he’d just torn her world apart?

Hector would hate this. If only they’d understood the extent of the damage when he had the cardiac arrest. She would have made them stop, told them to let him go in peace.

Wanda leaned over and put her forehead on Hector’s arm. That arm had held her when she cried over her first miscarriage, comforted her when the doctors told her there would never be a baby for them, and raised her arm in triumph when she won the mayoral race in Dodge. How could she go on, when he was trapped in a body that only went on living because of the damned machines?

Sometime after the nurse brought in the lunch she didn’t eat, Wanda became aware of voices outside discussing her. She got to her feet, smoothed her hair, and went to the door. Outside, the two deputies, different ones she thought, were talking to Alex Ward. Oh, God, she was going to have to tell Alex, let other people know of her loss. Tears began to roll down her cheeks unnoticed. Alex looked up.

“Wanda! These guys said you shouldn’t be disturbed.” She walked closer as she spoke. “Oh, Wanda. What... is he...?”

Wanda shook her head. “Coma. But he isn’t going to wake up. The doctor says it’s certain.”

One of the deputies lunged forward as Wanda staggered, catching her before she fell. He helped her into a chair that sat next to the door, and signaled his partner to get help. Alex knelt beside the chair to hold Wanda, and she cried on the girl’s shoulder until the nurse came.

“Come on, let’s get you something to help,” the nurse said, pulling Wanda from the chair, and then walking her to a more comfortable one in an alcove just around the next corner. When the nurse came back, she had a syringe, which she used to give Wanda a shot.

“It’s Valium,” she said. “That will help you feel calmer for a while. Do you want to stay here for now? I’ve sent for the doctor.”

Wanda nodded her head weakly. She’d rather go back to be with Hector, but she supposed he wouldn’t miss her. The thought sent a fresh round of sobs to her throat. Alex had stepped a few feet away and was talking into her cell phone.

It felt surreal. Wanda understood that she was in shock, or something like it, and it was getting worse. Sounds were muffled, as if she were under water, and the lights were too bright. She closed her eyes. If only they’d turn the lights down a little, so they wouldn’t hurt her eyes. Maybe people would stop changing shapes, too. And then the world went away.

FIFTY-FIVE

Come on, Daddy, answer the phone!

Alex risked a peek at Wanda, who was swaying in the chair where the nurse had placed her moments ago. She’d given Wanda a shot of some kind. Alex didn’t think it was the right thing, because Wanda’s eyes grew very round, before they snapped shut.

“Hello.”

“Daddy! Thank God you answered. I need you, I mean Wanda needs you, or someone. Hector’s... he’s not going to make it, Daddy. Someone needs to be here with Wanda.”

“Slow down, Baby Girl. What are you saying?”

“Just come, Daddy. I don’t know what to do for her.”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is anyone else there for her?”

“No. There are two deputies here, but I think they’re guarding her. One of them caught her before she fainted, though.”

“Alex, calm down. Sit down somewhere and take some deep breaths. Tell Wanda I’ll be there as soon as I can, and wait for me. I don’t want you on the road like this.”

“Okay, Daddy. Please hurry.”

She told the helpful deputy her dad was on the way. She hadn’t seen the other one since he’d gone to get the nurse. It seemed strange that no one was here looking after Wanda. The hospital seemed to have gone quiet in this wing; it was just her and the deputy, and neither of them knew what to do for Wanda.

She looked unconscious, but if she were sleeping, Alex didn’t want to wake her up. She balled up a sweater she had for later and put it behind Wanda’s head, hoping it would be more comfortable than resting her head on the too-low back of the chair.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked the deputy. “Why did she just go to sleep like that?”

“Not sure,” was his laconic reply. “The nurse gave her a shot of Valium. Maybe it was too much, on top of how tired she already was. That’s rough, about her husband.”

“Do these doctors really know he won’t wake up? I’ve heard of people waking up after twenty years or something.”

“Don’t know. He must have been sure, if he told her that.”

“Poor Wanda. Poor Hector. I wouldn’t want to live that way, being gone and having to have someone take care of... everything,” she finished. What she envisioned was horrid.

Too late, Alex remembered that she’d promised to get word to Dylan. Now that her panic had passed, she realized she should have asked her dad to go by the cop shop and update him before he came out to Dodge. But, he was probably on the way by now.

Where was everybody? Alex thought she heard the nurse tell Wanda the doctor was on the way. Shouldn’t he be here by now? And where had the other deputy gone? She threw herself into a chair that matched the one where Wanda slumped. After a minute, she jerked herself out of it and started pacing instead.

When will Dad get here?

FIFTY-SIX

Paul was worried about Alex, and even more so about Wanda, but he couldn’t leave the O’odham girl at the house, alone. Under any other circumstances, he’d call Rick, or maybe Dylan, to come and be with her. But Dylan was in jail and Rick didn’t know about Sophia. Paul wanted to keep it that way, not because he didn’t trust Rick, but to give him plausible deniability in case the girl wasn’t what Alex and Dylan thought she was.

He knew a thing or two about keeping secrets. You didn’t share them with anyone you didn’t trust one hundred percent or who would be compelled to tell. That left very few people in town he could call on for help.

It had to be Jen. He hated to involve her, but there was no other choice. He looked at his watch. Bad timing, but she did have behind-the-counter help right now, if he remembered the schedule correctly. He picked up his cell phone and brought up his favorites list.

Jen answered after a couple of rings. It must be loud in the bar.

“Hi, Paul! Are you coming down?”

“Jen, no, I’ve got an emergency on my hands. I need a huge favor.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was on the road, after Jen came over without asking many questions. When he introduced her to Sophia, she raised her eyebrows, but she still didn’t ask questions. He really needed to quit stalling and make her his. She was one in a million, Jen.

Paul pushed the speed limit all the way to Sells without seeing a single cop on the road, outside the reservation or inside. He parked haphazardly near an ambulance sitting at the ER entrance, its doors open and the lights still whirling, but with no siren blaring.

Inside, a lone volunteer manned the information desk. He asked for Wanda Lopez, but apparently Wanda wasn’t admitted. Then he asked for Hector.

“Mr. Lopez is not able to receive visitors.”

Paul checked his impatience. This woman didn’t know what was going on near Hector’s room. He explained that he thought he’d find both Wanda and his daughter in a waiting room near Hector’s room. Would she please tell him the room number? She did, but told him if he went into the room without a doctor’s permission, it wouldn’t go well for her. He promised not to.

Hector’s room was on the second floor. Paul dashed up the stairs and then slowed down as he passed the nurse’s station, where a Native nurse glared at him for the commotion he made bursting out of the stairwell door. He found Alex, Wanda, and a pair of deputies in a waiting alcove.

Wanda looked like she’d been pulled through a knothole backwards. He went to her and took her hand, waking her up. “Wanda, I came as soon as I heard. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked at him blankly and shook her head. “They say there’s nothing.”

Her eyes drifted away, past his shoulder. He squeezed her hand, and then let go and stood up, turning to Alex.

“Tell me what happened.”

Paul listened in growing disbelief as Alex explained everything that happened since she’d gotten here.

“And the doctor hasn’t been up?” he demanded. One of the deputies answered.

“They’re all down in the ER, except for the two in emergency surgery. Ambulance came in right about the same time. Kid playing with a rifle, shot his little brother. The brother’s in surgery, the kid who shot him is in restraints in the ER. Tried to kill himself.”

Paul gulped. What a god-awful story. He looked at Alex, who had turned white, making every freckle she had stand out. “Has anyone checked on Hector?”

“I guess so,” said the deputy. “But what’s the point?”

Paul wanted to slug him. Would have, if he hadn’t thought it would have left Alex alone in the world, until Rick was able to spring Dylan. “Where’s Thurston? Seems to me this poor woman needs a break. Why do you guys have to be here?”

“Warrant for her arrest. Kevin ordered us to watch her, but not to execute the warrant as long as Hector’s in here.”

“Looks like you may be here for quite a while, then. Did either of you think to call and let him know what’s going on?”

“Yes, sir. He’s not at the office, and radio’s off. We don’t know where he is.”

Unbelievable. The whole county was falling apart; the mayor facing an arrest, an innocent man in jail cooling his heels because the sheriff had a temper, and now the sheriff was missing. It was high time someone with a little common sense heard about this snafu.

“Alex, do you still have Lt. Wells’ number?” he asked.

“Yes. Do you think we should call him?” she answered.

Instead of answering her, Paul looked at the deputies. “What do you think, guys, do we call him or will you?”

FIFTY-SEVEN

Early Sunday Evening

Kevin Thurston kicked at the tail light assembly. Of all the ridiculous things to happen to him, he’d been snatched just outside the hospital by a kid he was trying to question. Maybe he was getting too old and slow for this kind of work.

It started when he saw a young man, who looked just like Dylan Chaves, acting suspiciously. The kid came out the ER exit and looked around, then slipped into the waiting ambulance. The thing that was, the kid had on what Thurston considered gangster clothes, not scrubs.

His pants hung almost off his hips, exposing a pair of boxer shorts, a wife-beater undershirt tucked into them, and no shirt over it. Thurston was sure he was in the ambulance looking for drugs. Thurston walked around the ambulance and took a stance behind the open doors, with his legs spread slightly apart and hands on his hips.

“What are you doing in there, son?”

Instead of the surprise and cowering he expected, the kid launched himself out the doors and landed squarely into Thurston’s chest, knocking him to the ground. Before he could regain his senses, the kid cuffed him with his own cuffs and forced him into the back of his own SUV, trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey.