her.
“Jules, I need you in here.”
Shifting her gaze, she caught sight of Nadir Patel poking his head out of an exam room. Along with Julia, Kevin and Marcus, Nadir was the fourth physician on staff. In his native India, he had run a thriving pediatrics practice, so he was responsible for dealing with the younger patients in Valero.
“Everything okay?” she called.
“I’m attempting to take a blood sample and our patient is a tad cranky. Perhaps you could lend a hand?”
A loud, petulant wail came from the exam room, telling Julia that Nadir’s patient was more than a tad cranky.
“Sure thing,” she called back.
Ten minutes later, she’d successfully assisted Nadir in drawing blood from the bawling two-year-old. Afterward, she went to check on her own patients, pleased to see that many of the ones who’d come in complaining of malaria-like symptoms were no longer showing signs of the parasite. She still couldn’t release them until the blood test results were in, but she was fairly confident they weren’t looking at a serious outbreak.
For the next three hours, she bustled around the clinic, doing everything from stitching up patients to changing bedpans. Her white coat might label her a doctor, but the clinic was so understaffed that the responsibility lines blurred significantly, and Julia often found herself being not just a doctor, but also a nurse, a surgeon, a janitor, a cook, a babysitter or any other job that cropped up.
It was no surprise that by the time nine o’clock rolled by she was ready to collapse. Because she was on the evening shift, she hadn’t eaten dinner with her colleagues. She’d scarfed down a can of cold beans during a break between patients, and her stomach rumbled with hunger by the time she shrugged out of her coat and left the clinic through the back doors.
The D.I. staff lived in heavy canvas tents behind the building. There were four large tents, two for the men, two for the women, which housed six cots each, and along with those, there were a few smaller tents for people with special circumstances; one for Simone, and the others were reserved for the married staff.
She strode to the tent she shared with Lissa and two other nurses—Kendra, a lovely African-American woman from Detroit, and Marie-Thérèse, a young French blonde right out of nursing school.
Kendra was passed out on one of the cots, so Julia tried to be quiet as she sank onto the edge of her cot. She dimmed the battery-operated lamp so as not to disturb the sleeping nurse, then opened one of the two drawers and pulled out her toiletry kit.
As tired as she was, she wanted a cool shower before bed to wash off the heat and grime of the day. There was a bathroom and shower area behind the tents, which they shared with the men. Not that it mattered much in such primitive conditions, but a schedule had been arranged to preserve the modesty of those who actually still cared about things like that. Julia was always far too exhausted to worry about who might see her naked.
She stood up with her toiletries in hand, then froze when the radio on the night stand began to crackle. Shooting a quick look at Kendra, she grabbed the radio and hurried out of the tent, ducking through the flap.
Outside, the small recreation area was deserted, and she headed for the long picnic-style tables where the staff usually congregated for meals.
“J-J-Julia … c-can … h-hear me?”
She could barely make out the tinny voice emerging from the speakers, but it sounded like Kevin’s. Her brows furrowed as it suddenly occurred to her that he still hadn’t come back.
As more static hissed out of the radio, she clicked the button and said, “Kevin, is that you?”
“J-Julia …”
She heard him more clearly this time. Relief swept through her. All right, at least he was still in one piece. He’d probably decided to spend the night in one of the villages rather than trek it back to the clinic in the dark.
“Kev, do you read me? Where are you?”
“I … village … Esperanza …”
Julia frowned. “Esperanza? Why did you go so far north?”
More static, followed by what sounded like a round of heavy coughing. “Things … h-here … bad.”
For the first time since she’d heard her colleague’s voice, a real pang of concern tugged at her gut. “Kev? What’s going on there?”
“I … t-treatment … don’t know … never seen it before.”
Unease circled her spine like a school of sharks. Her palms started to tingle as a wave of panic swelled inside her.
“The water … maybe … don’t know.” Kevin sounded more anguished, and his British accent grew more pronounced, the way it always did when he was upset. “B-bad, Jules … Don’t know wh-what’s wrong with me … stay away.”
Those last two words sent a chill through her body.
“Y-you hear me, Julia? D-don’t come here.” He repeated himself, more desperate now. “Don’t … come … here.”
And then the radio fell silent.
Chapter 3
“You’re at a church? You’re kidding, right?” The incredulous voice of Second Lieutenant Nick Prescott blared out of the satellite phone.
Chuckling, Sebastian swept his gaze over the single-story brick building a hundred yards away. Two simple wooden crosses were the only hints that it was a church, one adorning the door, the other affixed on the roof. A yellow glow spilled out of the window at the side of the structure, telling Sebastian that the elderly priest who’d shown him hospitality was still awake in his quarters.
“No joke,” he replied. “Though technically I’m in a barn.”
He glanced behind him at the darkened entrance of the little barn he’d be spending the night in. He’d already scouted the area to make sure it was safe, and now he was looking forward to collapsing on the big pile of hay in that empty stall and falling asleep listening to the snorts and neighs of the priest’s two Appaloosa mares.
“So you ran out of gas, and instead of hiking to the nearest gas station, you decided to spend the night in the San Marquez countryside?” Nick’s confusion only seemed to deepen. “And since when do you not carry an extra gas can with you? You’re like the poster boy for always prepared.”
“I had an extra can,” he muttered, swallowing a rush of frustration. “Someone stole it. Most likely one of the patients at the clinic, because I can’t imagine anyone on staff robbing the reporter who’s there to write a story about them.”
And if he hadn’t been so distracted by Julia Davenport’s big hazel eyes, maybe he would have noticed the missing gas container when he was leaving the clinic.
Fortunately, once the Jeep could no longer run on fumes, at least it had the decency to break down near this church.
“Fine. That doesn’t explain
