that were cognates, not translations. There were buildings devoted to medical care that were called 'spas.' And beside a business offering a jumble of unrelated but major kinds of surgery would be an office offering 'painless dentistry' and teeth whitening.
Jane found the address in the center of this wilderness of medical and cosmetic marketplaces. The four-story stucco structure looked like an apartment building jammed between a pharmacy and another medical center, but it had balconies that opened onto a view of another stucco wall two feet away.
She drove past and then around the area for a few minutes before she found a parking space in a lot beside a large market. She went inside and used American dollars to buy a few snacks and some cans of Coca-Cola. She put them into her SUV and began to walk.
She thought about her conversation with Steve Demming. The address he had given her seemed to match his description of the building and the district. But she still wasn't positive that he had given up hope of killing her.
She had knelt beside him in the dark house. 'Why should I believe you?'
He said, 'Because I don't have anything to gain by lying now. I want to live.'
She heard the siren in the distance. 'The ambulance. One last thing.'
'I know. If you find out I lied, or that I warned anyone that you were coming, you'll kill me.'
'I hope you believe that.'
'I do.'
Jane walked along the street behind Agua Caliente listening and looking, trying to get a sense of everything that was happening around her. She went past dental offices, other places specializing in
It took her a few minutes to walk to the Clinica Medica de la Mujer. She walked past and made a quick assessment. It had a staircase off the small lobby, and an elevator. There was a pretty young woman in a lavender skirt, matching high heels, and a white lab coat sitting at a graceful writing desk at the back wall. Near her sat a man in a set of hospital scrubs, but he was behind a solid counter that looked like a security station.
Jane never slowed down, and didn't attract any attention to herself. She kept going from one building to the next, shopping at stalls and watching the changes in the traffic and the movement of pedestrians. She had coffee in a nearby restaurant where she could watch the building through the front window but remain an undifferentiated part of the crowd. When she finished she walked to where she had left her car and drove off.
She spent the hours until dark exploring the city in the SUV. She took the road to Otay Mesa, where there was another border crossing, and studied the traffic there. When she judged it was late enough, she drove back to the Clinica Medica de la Mujer.
At midnight Jane climbed up the ladder at the back of the darkened pharmacy to the roof. It rose above the second floor of the Clinica Medica de la Mujer. She stepped close to the first balcony on the second floor of the Clinica, jumped the few feet between them, and climbed over the railing onto the balcony. She looked in the sliding glass door, and she could see there was a woman asleep in the bed.
She tried the door, and found that it was open a crack. Someone had been enjoying the cooler night air. Jane pushed the window open and stepped inside. She saw a tray on the movable table near the bed, picked it up carefully so it wouldn't wake the sleeping woman, and took it with her as she stepped out into the hall. If people saw her, their own minds would supply the explanation. The hall was empty.
Demming had told her that Christine was on the fourth floor of the building. She set the tray on the floor and stepped into the staircase near the end. She climbed to the fourth floor, walked down the hall, and looked in each of the rooms. There were no patients in any of them. When she got to the end of the hall away from the balconies, she saw a room with a solid door with a small double-glazed, metal-webbed window. It looked like a room for some kind of physical therapy or diagnostic equipment. But what caught her eye was that a key hung on a nail beside the door.
Jane moved close and looked in the window. There was a bed, and a patient asleep in it. She took the key and used it to unlock the door, then put it back on the nail so it wouldn't be missed, and slipped inside. She moved past the bed, and she could tell from the shape of the lump under the covers that it was a woman. She opened the blinds to let a little moonlight into the room. It was Christine. Demming had told the truth.
Christine was sleeping soundly, lying on her back, but Jane could see her chest rising and falling in a too-slow rhythm. Jane noticed that there was a medical chart on a clipboard hanging beside the door. She wasn't sure what it said, but there seemed to be a list of drugs and doses. The only one she recognized was diazepam. Valium. They must be giving it to her to help her sleep.
Jane went to the bed and touched Christine's shoulder. She didn't move. Jane shook her gently, then patted her face, but she didn't react. Finally, Jane lifted her to a sitting position and whispered in her ear, 'Christine. Christine. You've got to wake up. You've got to be alert now and talk to me. Wake up.'
There was no change. Christine was still limp and unconscious. Jane eased Christine down on the bed.
Jane pulled back the covers, then untied the hospital gown at the back of the neck, and looked under it. A fresh, clean-looking bandage stretched across Christine's upper chest from her left shoulder to under the right arm. Jane covered her again. Maybe the other medications were for pain. Bullet wounds were painful and took a long time to heal.
Jane searched the room and then the rest of the floor, looking for equipment that might help her get Christine out. There was no wheelchair, but maybe that was a good sign. If Christine couldn't walk, this was going to be difficult. There didn't seem to be a walker or crutches, either. Then she returned to Christine's room and tried again to wake her. Jane was acutely aware that time was passing. The clock on the wall said 2:14.
She heard the elevator arrive on the fourth floor, a quiet, sliding sound as the doors rolled open. She couldn't hear footsteps, but she was sure the staff must wear rubber-soled shoes. She went into the small bathroom, opened the shower curtain, stepped into the bathtub, and listened. She was right next to the corridor wall, so she heard a scrape as the newcomer lifted the key off the nail. Jane heard a louder sound as the key slid into the lock and rattled a bit when the door proved to be unlocked.
Jane stayed still. The person opened the door, stepped in, and let it close. Jane heard squeaky footsteps on the polished floor as the person stepped to Christine's bed. The person moved the rheostat on the wall up so the lights began to glow dimly. It was a woman's voice. 'Christina,' she said loudly. 'Christina, are you asleep?' She waited a few seconds, there was a rustling sound, and then the woman set something on the table by the door and then went out again.
Jane listened while the woman locked the door. When Jane heard the elevator move again, she came out of the bathroom and looked at what the nurse had left on the table. It was a small tray with a pitcher of water, a plastic cup, and a small cup containing four colored pills. Since Christine hadn't been able to take her medicine, maybe the nurse would return soon.
Jane searched the area around the bed for a telephone or intercom, then for a button to summon the nurse. If there had ever been anything like that, it had been removed. Jane went to the window to see what was visible on this side of the building.
'What are you doing?'
Jane spun and looked down. Christine's eyes were open, gleaming with reflected light from the window.
Jane stepped closer. 'I'm glad to see you're alive. They told me at first you were dead.'
Christine seemed to be trying to sit up, but she was too groggy. She raised her head. 'Jane?'
Jane touched Christine's arm. 'I'm here. I told you I'd do whatever it took. Talk to me. Try to wake up.'
She blinked, tried to raise herself. Jane lifted her to a sitting position. 'Sybil shot me.' She started to say something else, but she couldn't keep from crying.
'Your baby was born, wasn't it?' Jane said. 'Is it here?'
'He's still in San Diego with Richard's family. They took him away.' She sobbed. 'His name is Robert. He's beautiful.'
'Okay. We have to get you out of here. Can you walk?'
'Yes. Not at first, but now I can. They've been keeping me pretty doped up with painkillers and things, but there's nothing wrong with my legs. I just feel so tired all the time.'
'Drugs are a good way to keep you from running to the police, but they can't be expecting to keep you in this place forever.'
'It's a
