Day 21 – Thursday noon
Mater Dolorosa
The first thing Ginny noticed was the cold. The second was the nausea. She clawed her way to consciousness, trying to get her eyes open, to get to a bathroom, so she could vomit. She didn’t make it.
There was a bucket sitting on the floor beside her. She grabbed it and vomited again, then heard a whimper from across the room and looked up. She was not alone.
“Grace?”
Ginny had heard that chloroform could make a patient so sick he could tear out newly inserted stitches with the force of the vomiting. She believed it. She vomited again, then pushed the bucket aside and gulped in air, grateful to find it (mostly) odorless.
“What are you doing here?”
The other woman crawled toward her across the floor, almost unrecognizable as the suave, sophisticated ICU nurse Ginny knew. Her hair was a mess, her clothes stained, her eyes haunted.
“I came to see Father Ignacio.”
Ginny had her head in both hands, trying to avoid moving it. “He told me.” She peered at Grace with one eye. “Why?”
“Why did I come?”
“Yes.”
“To make my confession.”
Ginny had both eyes closed again, but her ears were working. “A dead child.”
“Yes.” Grace started crying.
“Is he a real priest or is he just faking?”
“I don’t know.”
Ginny had settled into a stillness that seemed to be working to keep the nausea at bay. She took a careful breath, then opened one eye. “Tell me what happened.”
The old Grace would have refused. This one begged.
“At first, it was nothing. I heard some people talking about how hard it was for illegals to get good medical care in Texas. If they came for treatment, they got deported.
“Some of the stories were heart-breaking, but they were just stories. Then, one day, at church, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to. They were in bad shape. I could see how dehydrated they were. One of the women was holding a baby. Just holding it. It was dead.” Grace pulled in a ragged breath.
“I couldn’t do anything, but I couldn’t escape the feeling I should. I asked the woman I was with if there was any way I could help. At first, she said no. But I kept asking and eventually she told me they needed everything: food, water, clothes, medical care.
“I got hold of some of those brochures they’re always pushing at nurses, and gave them to her, explaining there were charities in Dallas designed to meet those needs. She took the flyers, but shook her head at me. ‘They won’t go,’ she said. ‘They’re afraid.’ So, I started bringing things in and giving them to my friend, to pass along. Little things, at first, then bigger loads, then one day she told me to follow her in my car.” Her face twisted at the memory.
“She took me to a part of Dallas I didn’t know existed. Not south Dallas. Here. In this upscale suburb. You wouldn’t believe the slum conditions. It wasn’t just malnutrition. They were infected and infested. I looked at a few of the children and asked what kind of care they were getting. I was told there were old women who were considered healers, and there were benefactors who gave them money so they could buy over-the-counter medicines. Better than nothing, but not good enough.
“I started spending time with the healers. Some of what they did was harmless and some of it effective. Tar works, you know, on skin conditions, but they had no insulin for the diabetics and no antibiotics. They understood the problem. They just couldn’t get their hands on the medications.
“I went home that day and started thinking. I didn’t have the right credential to prescribe either drug. I’m not a Nurse Practitioner, but I know people who are.” She brushed at the tears.
“I stole a script pad and forged a signature and used those to buy prescription drugs, out of my own pocket. And I kept urging the refugees to go to the free clinic. But they wouldn’t. When the script pad ran out, I couldn’t get another so I had to come up with something else. They were relying on me.
“About that time I overheard Lisa talking to the guy in Human Resources. They were in the cafeteria and I don’t think either one of them knew I could hear them. She was saying he needed to follow Phyllis to the drug drop, to get pictures of her breaking the law, so she could be fired. He was arguing, saying he couldn’t sell photos like that, not without losing his job.
“Anyway, I gathered that Phyllis knew where to buy black market drugs, so I followed her and got lucky. She led me to the dealer. I didn’t let on, just waited until she was gone, then made my first buy. It was almost too easy. You can get anything you want.” Grace shook her head.
“One night I was there, making a purchase, and Phyllis caught me at it. She thought I was buying recreational drugs and I didn’t tell her the truth. She lectured me on the evils of a drug habit. I told her to mind her own business. But she was really angry and grabbed my arm. She broke one of the vials. That set me off and the two of us indulged in a very un-ladylike brawl.
“Isaac, the HR guy, had taken Lisa’s advice and followed Phyllis, so he was able to get nice, clear shots of the whole thing.” Grace frowned. “He offered to sell them to me. Probably did the same to Phyllis.
“Last week, one of the healers asked me to get her some chemo for a child with kidney cancer. I should have said no. That stuff is poison. But I did it and handed it over, with the instructions out of the drug handbook and a package insert I got off the Internet. I tried to walk away, but they kept begging me to set up the IV, to tell them how much, how often. Their English wasn’t up to the task. I should have said no.” Grace put her head down on her arms.
“He didn’t do well, even with me staying with him, watching the IV, giving him the antiemetic. He got weaker and weaker and I got scared. So I drove him to one of the clinics, dropped him off, with his mother, and told her to pretend she had no English. Then I ran home.”
Ginny watched the tears well up and spill down Grace’s cheeks.
“He died in the night. I couldn’t face going in to work, so I called in sick. That was Tuesday. By Wednesday, I couldn’t live with myself, so I called Father Ignacio and asked for an appointment. He heard my confession, and gave me penance and sent me out to the Lady Chapel. I was on my knees, going through the prayers, begging for forgiveness when they grabbed me.” She looked at Ginny. “Do you have any idea what they plan to do with us?”
Ginny took a careful breath. “If they’re feeding you, they want you alive.”
Grace frowned. “It looks like they think I’ll go to the police, but the whole point of confession was so I wouldn’t have to tell anyone else. A priest should know that.”
Ginny felt a stab of annoyance. “They may not want to take a chance on you following the rules, since you didn’t before.”
“But this is different,” Grace protested. “This is a promise to God.”
If the situation hadn’t been so grim, Ginny would have laughed. It was exactly the sort of naiveté that Father Ignacio had twisted to suit himself.
“I’m not sure they believe in God, but I’ll tell you what they do believe in. Money. And you, my dear, with your café au lait skin and your almond shaped eyes and your long, lean, lithesome body, will fetch a pretty penny on the sex slave market.” She saw Grace blanch, then swallow.
“I don’t think I’d like that.”
Ginny shook her head and found that she could do so without vomiting. Good. The drug was wearing off. It was time to think about getting out of here.
“Then we’d better do something about it.”
* * *
Thursday, twelve-thirty p.m.
Streets of Dallas
Fergus wasted no time moving through traffic. Jim was leaning forward, watching the road. “Turn here.”
“I know.”
Jim bit his tongue. Both of them had visited Mater Dolorosa exactly once. They both knew the way.
They were less than a block away when Jim saw a white hatchback coming toward them. He saw the personalized license plate mounted on the front and the Cross of St. Andrew sticker on the windshield and stiffened.
“That’s Ginny’s car!” He turned in his seat to follow the vehicle with his eyes. “There’s a man driving!”
Fergus reached for his dashboard and hit a button.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“Possible abduction/carjacking. White Volkswagen four-door hatchback. License plate CLANTX. Heading south on Sagebrush. The car is registered to a missing woman. Virginia Forbes, aged 28. Caucasian, blue eyes, long red hair. Check the trunk.”
Fergus was still talking as they pulled into the parking lot to find DeSoto waiting for them. Jim almost fell out of the car.
“They’ve got her!”
“They’ve got her car,” Fergus corrected. He explained about the 9-1-1 call. “They’re already on their way.”
Jim shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. She’s not in the car. She’s here.”
DeSoto looked at him curiously. “How do you know?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s find her first.”
“Okay. On the assumption she kept that appointment, we need to find out where they took her.” DeSoto reached into his vehicle and pulled out an electronic device. “This is a wireless bug.” He plugged an earpiece into his ear and handed one each to Jim and Fergus. “We need to send someone in to plant this thing.”
“I’ll go,” Fergus said.
DeSoto shook his head. “Sending a stranger after Ginny will just spook him.” He turned and looked at Jim. “He knows Mackenzie. That could play either for or against us. He might just shoot him on sight, but I think it’s unlikely. Gunshots inside the church are bound to be heard.”
Both Jim and Fergus nodded.
“My people are moving into position now. Ask Ignacio if he’s seen Ginny, but don’t challenge him. Accept whatever he says.”
Jim nodded.
“If we’re lucky, Ginny’s car will give us probable cause for a warrant. In the meantime, the law allows us access to any place open to the public. That’s important because we don’t want our perp to walk on a technicality. Can you two work together?”
Jim looked at Fergus and nodded. His grandfather trusted this man absolutely. Fergus hesitated a moment longer, then also nodded.
“Okay. Stewart, you’ve got Mackenzie’s back. Stay out of sight, but it’s your job to see he makes it out alive and in one piece.”
Fergus nodded.
“Mackenzie, your job is to plant that bug and get out of there. Understood?”
Jim nodded.
“After that, I want both of you to come back here and wait for me.”