9
Juliet had been home from the golf course less than an hour when her cell phone rang.
“Hey, Juliet. It’s me, Tavina. Sorry to call you at home on a Sunday night, but I just learned my extended family is arriving from New Orleans in the morning and we want to take them to Water Circus tomorrow. Would it be too much trouble if I took the day off?”
Juliet mentally scanned her calendar. “No, that should be fine. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Really? Oh, thanks so much. I really wanted MD to get time with his little cousins.”
To borrow from a popular cliché, Tavina believed the sun rose and set on her three-year-old boy, a cute little guy with big brown eyes and a dimpled smile. Tavina named him Marquis DeAndre Mosely. “That’s the only way we’re likely to have an MD in the family,” she said with a laugh.
The few times Tavina had brought little MD to the office, he was surprisingly well-spoken for a toddler. He’d also been trained to use his manners. Juliet offered him an energy bar from her desk drawer, and he quickly said, “Thank you, ma’am.” Then, to Juliet’s delight, he added, “You’re pretty.”
Juliet reassured Tavina it was no trouble for her to take the day off and enjoy her family. “I can get by one Monday without you,” she told her assistant.
“I’ll call the temp service and arrange for a replacement,” Tavina offered.
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s only one day. I can ask the receptionist to help out if I need anything.”
Juliet hung up the phone and headed for the kitchen, where a can of Pacific Chai tea she’d found at Whole Foods last week was calling her name. Before she could put a pot of water on to boil, the phone rang a second time. This time it was her mother.
“Honey, I know it’s late, but your dad and I are downtown and we’re heading to the Riverwalk for dinner. Would you join us?”
Juliet groaned inside. She was pooped. The only thing she really wanted was to wrap her yoga pant–covered legs up on the couch and catch up on her DVR episodes of The Good Wife.
“Oh, Mom. I’m pretty tired . . .”
Silence.
“And I have an early morning,” Juliet quickly added.
“Well, sure—I understand.” Her mother paused. “Maybe another time.”
Juliet sighed. She couldn’t take the disappointment she heard in her mom’s voice. “Look, okay—I’ll go. But I really don’t want to be out late. I have a big week ahead.”
“No, no. I understand completely. We’ll meet you in an hour at Casa Rio.”
After slipping on a pair of jeans and boots, Juliet ran a brush through her hair and covered her lips in a light peach gloss. Before heading out the door for the car, she grabbed her leather jacket from the hall closet, not that she expected the night air to chill enough to wear one. But hey, the coat matched her boots. That counted for something.
Traffic would be light on a Sunday night. She would get downtown in plenty of time to meet her mother at the scheduled time. Juliet clicked on the radio. Using the designated button on her steering wheel, she scanned the stations, searching for some light jazz.
Suddenly, the term E. coli broadcast through the speakers. Juliet stopped the dial and turned up the volume.
“A six-year-old who fell sick late last week of suspected E. coli has died, and two more children have fallen victim to a deadly strain of O157:H7. A spokesman from Children’s Hospital here in San Antonio has confirmed that the Centers for Disease Control out of Atlanta, Georgia, has been alerted and an investigation is now under way. While health officials are working to identify the source, at this juncture no one is able to confirm these incidents are related.
“People usually get sick two to eight days after ingesting contaminated food or water. Most people infected with the O157:H7 strain develop diarrhea—usually watery and often bloody—and abdominal cramps and recover within a week. But some develop more severe infection leading to hemolytic uremic syndrome, or HUS, a type of kidney failure and nervous system impairment, often deadly in children under six years old and the elderly. Listeners are strongly encouraged to take all proper precautions. More information about the symptoms of HUS and ways to prevent contracting this disease has been posted online at our website.”
Juliet’s stomach clenched. The ominous report suggested more than a simple undercooked burger at a backyard barbecue. She knew many in her field would be working feverishly to identify the source and end the outbreak. Time was of the essence in these situations.
Tomorrow she’d put in some calls. See if she could help in any way.
She pulled into downtown, found a lot off Market Street, and parked her Jeep on the fourth level, next to an old green and white pickup with a bumper sticker proudly displayed in the back window that said, “I’m from Texas. What country are you from?”
Normally she would smile at the humor, but not today. Not after learning of a potential outbreak in their city.
She’d need to cut this dinner short. No doubt the scientific forums she followed on the internet would be buzzing tonight as everyone in her field closely monitored the developments.
She quickly made her way along the sidewalk and down the cement stairs to the path lining the murky black San Antonio River that snaked through downtown. The Riverwalk, lined with restaurants, hotels, and more, had long been known as Texas’s number one tourist attraction. Just ahead, Juliet spotted the brightly colored patio umbrellas lining the Casa Rio.
Her mother saw her and waved. As Juliet approached, the maître d’ directed her to their table.
“There you are.” Her mother placed her napkin on the table and lifted from her chair.
“No, sit.” Juliet bent and kissed her mother’s cheek.
“Your father was held up.” Her mom scooted up to the table. “Something about an outbreak.”
Juliet slid into a chair opposite hers. “I heard on the radio on the way here. Does Dad know anything?”
“Not that he’s been able to tell me yet.” Her mother handed her a menu. “But he promised he’d be here. We were doing a little shopping downtown when he got the call.”
“It’s awful. Those kids.” Juliet shook her head. “And so unnecessary, what with everything the science community knows about food pathogens. Someone along the line clearly failed to utilize proper detection methods. Whoever is responsible should be hung by their toes from the top of the Tower of the Americas.”
“Oh, Juliet!”
“I’m serious, Mom. There’s no excuse.” Her eyes scanned the entrée selections, although she didn’t need to. Founded in 1946, Casa Rio was the first San Antonio business to open its doors to the river and take advantage of the unique waterfront setting. Her family had been coming here for years, and Juliet always ordered the same thing—pollo asado, with an extra side of chunky guacamole.
The waiter took their order.
“Gracias, amigo.” Juliet handed him the menu. She looked across the table. “What’s the matter, Mom? You look tired.” She scooped salsa onto a chip and brought it to her mouth.
Her mother adjusted a pair of reading glasses nested in her thick bobbed hair. “Gee, thanks a lot.”
Juliet’s expression tightened with concern. “I’m serious. Maybe you’re overdoing it a bit at the birthing center.” She popped the chip in her mouth, savoring the strong bite of the finely chopped jalapeños mixed with chunks of tomato and onion, garlic, and cumin.
Her mom waved her off. “A little hard work never hurt anyone. If I look a bit haggard”—she straightened her fork on the table—“maybe it’s because your father dragged me all over town today looking for hatch chilies. They’re past season, but he insisted on searching every farmer’s market in Bexar County until he found a batch.”
“Hey, do I hear my name being taken in vain?”
Juliet glanced up. Her father appeared next to her mother. He planted a kiss on top of his wife’s head and moved to take a seat next to her.
Her mother smiled at him. “I ordered the enchilada plate for you.”
“With extra green sauce?”
She nodded. “Yes, with extra sauce.”
He turned to Juliet. “Now, that’s why your mama’s a keeper.”
Juliet gave him a weak smile, stifling a comment that in her opinion, he was lucky her mom kept him around.
Her father rustled a chip from the basket and dredged it through the bowl of salsa like he was trying to drown the thing. Her mother wet her fingers and tamed a strand of his hair.
He turned to Juliet. “So, did you hear about it?”
“About?” She played dumb, stubbornly refusing to play along.
He talked while he chewed. “The outbreak. Sorry situation if you ask me.” He swore under his breath. “Today’s corporations. Always cutting corners when it comes to safety.”
“Bennett—language.”
Juliet’s father shrugged. “Sorry, Carol. But Juliet’s hardly a little girl—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” her mother chided. “You know I don’t care for foul language.”
He slipped his hand over hers in a signaled apology.
Juliet reached for her glass of iced tea. “Why are you pinning the outbreak on some corporation? Could be a public pool for all we know, run by a municipality. Here in Texas, there were three reported cases just like that last year.”
“Not likely.” He popped another chip in his mouth and chewed noisily.
Juliet’s mother held up both hands. “Look, you two, let’s change the subject.”
Juliet ignored her mom’s admonition and pierced her father with a sharp glare. “What do you mean, not likely?”
Her father slowly leaned back in his chair. He lifted his eyebrows. “Surely you’re not unaware that statistics show—”
Juliet threw her linen napkin to the table. “Oh, c’mon. Get over yourself, Dad. The laboratories in corporations across this country employ state-of-the-art mechanisms to detect even a hint of pathogens.”
Her father smirked. “Yeah, so they don’t get sued.”
“Oh, here we go.” Juliet grabbed her purse. “Look, Mom. I’m too tired for this tonight.”
Her mother’s arm reached across the table. “Honey, wait—”
Juliet shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and it’s just better if I head out.” She ignored the tears pooling in her mother’s eyes. “Just have them box my dinner. You can eat it for lunch tomorrow.” She glanced over at her father as she moved to kiss her mother’s cheek.
“Carol, honey. I’m sorry.” He too reached for Juliet, remorse clearly written on his face. “I’m sorry. Juliet, please stay.”
Juliet lifted her chin and pulled her hand away. “Call me tomorrow, Mom.” She turned and scurried away, brushing past the growing crowd mingling down the sidewalk path lining the river.
She’d walked about a quarter of a block when in the distance, she heard screams over the sound of the mariachi band playing on a nearby veranda.
The music stopped. Juliet froze.
“Someone call 911!”
She turned back toward the commotion.
Her father’s voice rang out. “Carol!” he screamed. “Hurry, somebody! I need a doctor!”
Looking back, Juliet marveled at how everything raced and slowed at the same time. She knew she’d dropped her purse and ran back, her feet pounding the sidewalk like a drum. Her mind simultaneously blurred and absorbed details—clumps of variegated green hostas and lacey ferns sprouting from the edge of shimmering water that reflected the hanging lights overhead. Chattering tourists sitting in a boat floating by, and the mingled smells of grilled meat and onion drifting from the open-doored restaurants.
But the single sight she would never forget was that of her mother’s face turning pale gray as she lay crumpled at the base of the table, while her father heaved compressions at her chest. Her eyes—open and sightless. His—frantic and filled with fear.
In her own—Juliet would never forget she was responsible.