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Relief has fresh tears running down my face, and I stand and let the duvet fall from my shoulders as the door is unlocked and Santos enters the chapel. He stops for a moment, just a moment, and looks at me and then he’s at my side, taking me in his arms, sitting with me on his lap and cradling me. I cling to him, kiss his cheek, then bury my face in his neck.
“I trusted him,” Santos says against my ear.
“Is he… Did you?” I look up at him, see the splatter of blood on his shirt.
He looks at me, then gets to his feet with me in his arms. “We need to get you to a doctor.” He and Father Michael exchange a look, and Santos carries me out of the chapel. He sets me down on the passenger side of the SUV and turns to Father Michael.
“I’ll send some people, but we need to get the cruiser moved,” Santos says.
“I’ll take care of it,” Father Michael says, surprising me—making me wonder again about his past.
“Val was a friend,” Santos says.
“I know.” The priest takes hold of Santos’s shoulders, then takes something out of his pocket and pushes it into Santos’s hands.
“I don’t want that,” Santos says.
Father Michael closes his hands over whatever it is. “You witnessed a miracle today.” He glances at me. “You know that.”
Santos is quiet.
“Go. Take care of your wife.”
Santos nods. They man-hug, and a moment later, he closes my door and climbs into the driver’s seat as he tucks the thing Father Michael gave him into his pocket.
It’s a rosary.
38
SANTOS
Isend soldiers to Augustine’s to secure the apartment and make sure my mother stays put until I get there.
When we get to the parking lot of the small building that houses Dr. Moore’s practice, three SUVs are parked in the lot, each with two soldiers inside. As we pull in, they climb out of their vehicles and wait.
Dr. Moore opens the door and anxiously looks around at the men. She canceled her first few appointments in order to see us when I called and explained it was an emergency.
I know she knows who I am, what I do. So, when she sees the state we’re both in by the time we get to her office, she doesn’t ask any questions but leads us into the same examining room as last time.
“I’m all right. I’m fine,” Madelena insists as the doctor and I help her out of her clothes, and she examines her. I see the bruises all over her body, and I know the pain of cracked ribs. “The baby though.”
Dr. Moore doesn’t look convinced she is fine. “I’m an OB-GYN. You need to take your wife to a proper doctor to be looked at,” she tells me.
“I will. The baby.”
Dr. Moore nods. My phone rings as I watch her arrange the stirrups and ready the probe.
“Yes?” I answer, turning my back to the women.
“Sir, she’s gone. I have Cummings here and the girl. Ana.”
“Gone?”
“Soldier said she left soon after you did.”
“Santos?” Madelena asks.
“Keep them there. I’ll come soon.” I disconnect the call and turn to my wife. This time, as I take her hand, she holds onto mine, and she too, looks at the monitor along with me. My heart is racing and I’m sure she can see the anxiety on my face.
