she grabbed the wall for support. Her head spun, her ears hummed with her rising pulse.
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
