Adam guided her to the exit, more for his own need for fresh air than for Señora Fernandez. Adam stood a moment in the dusky light, watching her sandals kick up dust along the side of the road.
Adam rubbed his neck, feeling the strain of what would be a long night’s work. He agreed with Valenti. The late shift was difficult.
As he turned, a sting stabbed his arm and looked down in time to see a jejen. He slapped at the fly, but it had already vanished. As he headed inside, Adam’s arm stung with a fiery itch, and he rubbed the irritated spot.
When he reached the nurses’ station, Kate beckoned to him. She peered at his scratching and grinned. “Got a bite?”
He nodded.
“Vitamin B and baby oil work wonders.”
“I know,” he said, wanting to remind her he was the physician.
She motioned toward the computer screen. “The supplies are accounted for and stocked. I’ve checked everything twice.”
“Learned your lesson?”
She sent him a fiery look. “You can check it yourself if you’d like.” She swung the monitor toward him and rose from the chair.
“I’m joking, Katherine.”
Her eyebrows raised as her frown melted. “Well, I just thought…”
He harnessed a chuckle, seeing the look on her face. No one could get as addled as Katherine…at least, when he talked to her. She didn’t like him, he figured.
“Do I have another patient?” he asked, needing to get on with his work and not worry about Katherine’s fluster.
Kate nodded. “Knife wound. Room two.”
Knife wound. He had seen too much of that. Harvesting accidents, street fights and drug-or alcohol-induced arguments. Adam had already seen cuts and bruises from their Independence Day celebration the day before, the fifth of July.
Adam strode into the hallway and headed toward the examining room. Before he reached the doorway, he felt a hand on his arm that spun him around.
“Look, Montgomery, where do you get off advising my patient to do something I said wasn’t necessary?”
Adam felt his jaw drop. “What are you talking about, Dan?” He gazed into Dr. Eckerd’s angry eyes.
“I’m talking about Liana Ramirez.”
“The child? I don’t—”
Eckerd gripped Adam’s jacket and crushed the cloth. “Do you remember telling Señora Ramirez that her daughter needed plastic surgery for the birth-mark?”
Adam jerked his arm away from the doctor. He faintly remembered one day he’d seen the family in question, but they often shared patients. No one had an exclusive patient list at the clinic. “I recall having the mother ask my advice about the mark. I said that you were correct. Some nevi fade with time, but the girl’s is raised and deep purple. It’s the type that is often permanent.”
“And one that would benefit from plastic surgery.”
“Yes, but—”
“This is another example of your cocky attitude and self-importance. You could have discussed it with me first. I think you’re wrong. You’re costing the clinic money it can’t afford and endangering a child’s health with your arrogance.”
“Dan, my suggestion wasn’t arrogance. I based it on my knowledge as a plastic surgeon.”
“Next time think about someone else’s reputation before you mouth off with your advice.”
Adam watched the doctor charge away, and he stood with his mouth hanging open. What was going on? The climate? The late shift? A full moon? He shook his head and checked the clipboard hanging beside the examining room. Adam recognized the name. He’d seen Felipe Garcia more than once.
“Señor Garcia,” Adam said, entering the examining room.
The man gave him a sheepish grin. “Toma mucho.” He tipped an imaginary bottle and pantomimed taking a drink.
Adam silently agreed he’d had too much alcohol and probably too many drugs. Adam’s chest tightened, thinking of the lives destroyed by substance abuse.
In minutes, he’d cleaned and sutured the arm wound. Adam knew the man would have pain and he looked through the cabinet and found the last few tablets of Darvocet. They would do him for now. “Regrese en de dos días.” He raised two fingers in the air, then pointed downward, indicating he wanted him to come back in two days.
Felipe nodded and eased down from the table. “Dos días. Gracias.” He lifted his hand in farewell, then vanished through the door, a white bandage wrapped around his arm.
“¡Adiós!” Adam called, his thoughts tangled in the plight of the locals with their poverty and poor living conditions. His heels thudded as he crossed the tile floor and slammed the cabinet door. He needed to tell Katherine to get someone to restock all the cabinets in the examining rooms.
Adam paused, hearing his attitude. The lecture he’d heard before he came to Doctors Without Borders rose in his mind. Staff needed the ability to work and live as a team, to manage stress, to be tolerant and flexible. His shoulders drooped with the thought. Perhaps he lacked that attribute. Flexibility was for the nurses and technologists, not surgeons. But here, he had to adjust.
Instead of heading back toward the nurses’ station, Adam headed for the dispensary to carry back a few supplies for the cabinet. He also had an ulterior motive. He wanted to be certain the Demerol and morphine he’d ordered had arrived, although Katherine would be irked if she knew he had checked on her.
He followed the lengthy hall to the end and turned the corner, digging into his pocket for the dispensary key, but as he neared the doorway, he saw the door was ajar.
Who would leave the room unlocked? He picked up his pace and pushed open the door.
His heart stopped. Blood froze in his veins.
“What are you doing?” he yelled.
A shot tore through him, smarting worse than a giant jejen fly.
He staggered backward. Heat and pain seared his flesh as his legs buckled.
Blackness.
Chapter Two
Pow!
Kate’s heart tumbled when she heard the shot.
Pow!
Another.
Her pulse pounded as she rose on trembling legs and tore into the hallway. She hesitated, panic charging through her body. Which way? The shot had come from the left, she thought.
She rushed along the corridor, fear pumping through her limbs while glancing through doorways.
Nothing.
