Adam's Promise Page 2

  He turned his thoughts back to the infant and headed to the storage cabinet to locate a supply of plastic strips to give the mother. He knew she would have little money to buy her own.

  The cabinet looked almost bare. Why didn’t someone see that supplies were in each room?

  A rap on the door jarred the thought from his mind. Adam turned, and his pulse skipped. Katherine. Could she read his mind? She stood in the doorway with a pile of sterile strips and bandage supplies clutched in both hands and piled against her chest.

  “Sorry to disturb you.” A curious look washed over her face as her gaze shifted from him to the baby he held cradled in his arm.

  “The supplies just arrived, and I know this room is short,” she said. “I imagine you want some of these for Señora Fernandez.”

  “Thanks,” Adam said, puzzled by the coincidence. He returned the infant to his mother while Katherine stocked the cabinet with supplies. Before she left, Katherine handed him several sterile strips.

  He slid the bandages into a plastic bag and handed them to Señora Fernandez. Gratefulness filled the woman’s face, and her response renewed his sense of purpose.

  With the mother content and smiling, 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. The office was empty.

  She charged forward. Turning the corner, her legs buckled, and 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 crime?

  When she explained about Adam’s surgery, the detective’s glower let her know they’d contaminated the crime scene. How could she explain they couldn’t stand back and let Adam die? She only shook her head and showed them the surgery taking place inside the operating room. The detective looked through the window, gave instructions to the officers, then walked away.

  The younger man quizzed her again, taking down names and facts that Kate could remember while the other officer listened.

  “Come,” she said, guiding the young men to the dispensary. She led them along the corridor, and as they reached the doorway, the detective stepped in from the delivery entry and followed them.

  She motioned the men inside, her stomach churning at the pool of blood on the floor. Not just blood, but Adam’s blood. She indicated where she’d found him, his position on the floor. From that location, one officer measured distances and angles, speculating from the drugs found on the floor where the looters had stood.

  The other officer donned plastic gloves and moved about so as not to disturb evidence any more than the medical staff had destroyed earlier. While Kate watched from the hallway, the younger man pried what appeared to be two bullets from the wall beside the doorway and dropped them into plastic bags.

  The detective turned his attention to a blood stain on the corner of a storage cabinet. Kate suspected it was where Adam had struck his head in the fall, the reason for the gaping wound above his temple.

  They worked with speed, measuring and taking notes. When they finished, one officer closed the door and
cordoned off the room.

  Kate gaped at the closed door blocking their medical supplies. Somewhere in her addled mind, she thought of the people who depended on the clinic for their health-care needs. Sadness turned to anger and the emotions mingled with the fear and bewilderment that already overwhelmed her.

  Outside the dispensary, the detective pointed to the delivery door. “Do you keep this locked?”

  Carmen, lingering on the sidelines, translated. “Yes, always.”

  He opened the door and Kate followed. Outside she could see the body on the ground while officers huddled around. The detective shooed her away, but she peeked at the doorjamb anyway, wondering if it had been pried open. She saw nothing—no marks or dents. She looked closer, but the irate man ordered her away for a second time.

  Kate moved inside and hurried toward the operating room. She had nothing to do now but follow orders and prepare to leave. Her breath came in gasps as she neared the surgeon. Would Adam make it back to Colorado Springs alive?

  She couldn’t bear to think otherwise.

  Kate’s body trembled with exhaustion as she willed her eyes to stay focused. She looked around the surgical waiting room at Vance Memorial Hospital, with its drab yellow walls and unimpressive framed prints. She shifted on the plastic upholstery and eyed her rumpled blouse and pants she’d worn for the past twenty hours.

  The chaos of those past hours filled her mind. The surgery at the clinic, the fear, the questioning, the packing, the waiting.

  She had flown back in the Medevac with Adam clinging to life with his falling blood pressure and faltering pulse. The problem had been what she feared—internal bleeding. Now she waited with Adam’s parents for his second surgery.

  Kate eyed her watch. Nearly two hours. She’d told his folks everything she knew about the horrible incident. The details lay muddled in her overtaxed mind, and she was glad they’d accepted her patchy description.