“I didn’t realize you had a type.”
This time the sideways glance she shot in his direction was distinctly annoyed. “Everyone has a type, even if they don’t want to admit it. Daniel’s really good at fitting in with civilians. He’s a successful business owner, Chamber of Commerce type. That’s not really me. Besides, I don’t think I could live in Albuquerque. Santa Fe’s about as big city as I want to get. If I had my choice — ” She stopped there, possibly worried she was going to say too much.
“If you had your choice?” Rafe prompted her. “If you weren’t stuck living under Genoveva’s roof, could do what you want?”
“I’d like to move a little ways out of town, have a place in the country. Someplace pretty and green, like Pecos or Glorieta. Or maybe even all the way up in Taos. I don’t know. It’s just that sometimes….”
“Sometimes you feel trapped.” He could relate to the feeling all too well, even though he’d at least been able to escape to a home of his own, albeit a home less than a mile from the house where he’d grown up.
“Exactly. And I know I should be grateful for what I have, because so many people have so much less, but…it might be nice to be master of my own destiny. Anyway, I’m just babbling. And while I know Daniel’s a nice guy and probably better than I deserve, I’m just not feeling it.”
Rafe frowned, troubled by his sister’s self-deprecating comment. She deserved everything the world had to offer, no matter what she might think. Unfortunately, he worried that if he tried to call her on her remark, they’d just get into a quarrel. They were both tired and discouraged, and so this probably wasn’t the best time to really get into it. Instead, he only said, “I understand,” and was quiet after that.
That silence followed them all the way to his house. When Cat pulled up in the driveway to let him out, she told him, “I’ll come by and get you around one-thirty tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. That seemed like an awfully long ways off, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “See you then.”
And as he went into the house, he wondered how he would be able to pass another night without knowing what was happening to Miranda.
Somehow, though, he survived. He didn’t have much choice — he messed around on the computer, watched some television before going to bed early. As he wandered around the next morning, he realized there wasn’t much he could do to tidy up the house, since it had already been cleaned in anticipation of Miranda’s arrival. How the place could feel so empty without her, when she’d never even lived here, he didn’t know. Maybe it was only that he’d anticipated her living with him in this house, and that was enough to make him note her absence. But whatever the reason, his footsteps seemed to echo more hollowly than they ever had before, and the hours until his sister was supposed to show up seemed to stretch out forever.
Eventually, though, one-thirty swung around. His phone pinged at him — a text from Cat, letting him know she was waiting in the driveway. He went out and squinted at the bright sunshine, faintly annoyed. How could the sky be so cheerful and blue, the air so unseasonably warm, when the woman who was supposed to be his wife had vanished without a trace?
He climbed into her SUV and shut the door. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” Cat returned amiably as she began to back out of the driveway. “You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks.” One hand went to his jaw; he’d forgotten to shave. Not that it really mattered one way or another. Sourly, he surveyed his sister. Unlike him, she’d obviously made some effort today, since she wore a long embroidered skirt, boots, and a wrap-style top with a bit of lace camisole peeking out from beneath. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. I figured I’d better look as if I’d made an effort, just in case Mom decides to drop by and check up on us.”
“You think she’d do that?”
Behind her dark glasses, Cat lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Of course she would. Genoveva loved sticking her nose in everybody’s business, always firmly convinced that she knew better than anyone else. The odds that she’d swing by the hospital to check up on Cat were pretty high.
“Right.”
A chuckle, and she turned left onto Old Santa Fe Trail, heading south toward St. Vincent’s. “I’m glad you came along, though. I was kind of worried you’d change your mind.”
“No, I said I’d come. I wouldn’t leave you hanging.”
“Well, I still appreciate it.”
They were quiet for a moment as they drove along the old road, tall trees and adobe walls on either side. The street widened after a few minutes, taking them through a slightly newer part of town. Cat turned off toward St. Michael’s so they’d be lined up for a proper approach to the hospital’s visitor parking lot, then turned again.
It wasn’t too busy that Tuesday afternoon, which meant they were able to get a parking space fairly close to the front entrance. They both got out, went in, and headed toward the elevator. It was empty, giving them an unimpeded ride to the fourth floor where Marco’s room was located. Just as they approached the door to his room, Sophia, Marco’s mother came out, the lines of worry smoothing from her face the moment she caught sight of the two visitors.
“Perfect timing,” she said with a smile. She was as slight as her son was round; he’d inherited his size from his late father. “Your mother said Cat was on her way, so I thought I’d slip out and get something to eat.”
“How is Marco?” Cat asked.
Sophia’s smile didn’t exactly fade; it only grew tight, the strain more evident in the shadows around her dark eyes. “The same,” she replied. “They’re going to do a CAT scan later this afternoon. But at least his condition hasn’t deteriorated, either. He’s holding steady. But then, he always was a healthy boy.”
Her voice caught on that last word — clearly he was still her little boy, no matter that he was a grown man in his mid-twenties. “Well, that’s something,” Rafe said, wishing he had something more encouraging to tell her. Problem was, he couldn’t summon much enthusiasm for anything right now. As much as he told his brain to shut up and leave him alone, it kept summoning ever more gruesome possibilities as to what might be happening to Miranda at that very moment. Had she been caught by human traffickers? Had she lost her memory somehow, was shut up on a twenty-four-hour psych hold somewhere?
“You get your lunch,” Cat said, her tone soothing. “Take as long a break as you need. We’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Cat.” Sophia offered them another smile and then headed off toward the elevator.
Rafe expelled a breath. “Well, I guess we’d better go in.”
His sister nodded and led the way inside. Just as Sophia had said, Marco seemed pretty much the same as he’d been the day before, tubes still running into his arm and his nose. At least it seemed he was able to breathe on his own, because his mouth was unobstructed. A ventilator lurked in the corner, though, waiting for the moment when it might be needed.
Two chairs had been placed up against one wall, and Cat and Rafe sat down in those. Thank God this was a private room, so they’d be able to talk without too much worry about being overheard.
“I’m glad Sophia seems to be holding up okay,” Cat ventured.
“Well, she’s a tough lady. Genoveva could learn something from her. It is possible to suffer losses and not turn into a bitter harpy.”
“Rafe.” Cat’s tone was reproving, but she didn’t bother to admonish him beyond that. Whatever closeness had existed between her brother and her mother had been burned away years earlier, and she must have known there was no real way to repair the breach now.
“Whatever.” He rubbed the palms of his hands against the knees of his jeans and wondered whether it had been a good idea to come here after all. What was he trying to prove, anyway? That he was a good son, a good Castillo who understood his place in the clan?
No, he thought suddenly, looking at Marco’s slack features, at the bl
uish shadows under his eyes, he was here because Marco was his friend. Not just a member of the clan, not just a cousin. Rafe wished they could have been closer, because Marco was a decent guy and fun to hang out with, but the distance between Taos and Santa Fe was just great enough that they didn’t get together as often as either of them would have liked. He knew then he would have come here anyway even if they hadn’t been related at all, because it was the decent thing to do.
And because poor Sophia really looked like she needed a break.
“Anyway,” he went on, knowing he needed to say something to try to erase the wounded look in his sister’s eyes, “I’m also hoping that Daniel might get back to me this afternoon. He texted this morning to let me know he was running a trace on a few things, but he had meetings with clients and didn’t exactly know when he’d be able to be in touch. ‘Running a trace’ means he must have figured out a way to track Miranda’s movements, right?”
“I guess?” Cat said, her shoulders lifting slightly. “I have to admit I don’t know much about being a private detective. I assume Daniel isn’t wandering the streets of Albuquerque with a magnifying glass or something.”
The image her remark conjured was so ludicrous, Rafe couldn’t help chuckling a bit. “No, I think he does a lot of his work online. Forensic data analysis, he said one time. Not that I know exactly what that’s supposed to mean. But since he knows what he’s doing, I have to hope he’s got some kind of lead about Miranda, even if we can’t figure out what that might be.”
“I hope so,” Cat said. “It’s hard to understand how someone could just vanish without a trace like that.”
“Unghhh….”
Rafe and Cat both paused and looked toward the bed. Marco didn’t seem to have moved — until Rafe saw the way his cousin’s fingers were clutching the thin hospital blanket. Was it possible…?
“Marco?” he ventured, hoping he didn’t sound like a complete fool. “Did you say something?”
“Unghh…Maahhhhh….”
Cat’s dark eyes were wide, the color in her cheeks gone. “Should I call a nurse?” she asked in an undertone.
“I don’t know,” Rafe replied. He got up from his seat and went over to the bed. “What’re you trying to tell us, Marco?”
“Teh — ” The syllable came out more as a huff of breath. “Tess….”
Now Cat was up and out of her chair, standing next to Rafe, her entire body tense. “Who’s Tess, Marco?”
“Tess…tess….”
The beeping of his heart monitor began to accelerate. Rafe saw beads of sweat gather on Marco’s brow and roll down his temples before soaking the hair next to his ears. “We don’t understand,” he said. “Who’s Tess?”
“Tess…uhhh….”
The heart monitor was going crazy. The next thing Rafe knew, he was being pushed aside by a pair of nurses, one of whom looked at Marco’s vitals and said, “Get the doctor,” even as the other woman began to shove Rafe and Cat out of the room.
“You’ll need to go,” she said, the crispness of her tone allowing no room for argument.
“But he was trying to tell us something!” Rafe protested. “He was out of the coma!”
“No, he wasn’t,” the nurse said calmly. “Sometimes patients in his condition make vocalizations that sound as though they’re trying to speak. His brain activity hadn’t changed, though. And now his pulse is dangerously high, so we need to get that under control. You can go over there,” she added, pointing toward the small waiting area that faced the elevator doors.
A pretty Asian woman wearing a white lab coat hurried into Marco’s room, and the nurse who’d been speaking to them quickly turned away and went in as well.
Feeling helpless, Rafe said, “I guess we’d better go wait.”
Face pale, Cat nodded. The two of them walked over and sat down on the hard chairs there, although they’d only been sitting for a minute or two before the elevator doors opened and Sophia stepped out, a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand. Spying the two of them, she said, “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you in with Marco?”
“He, uh, had kind of an episode,” Rafe began, but he didn’t get any further than that, because Sophia turned away and hurried toward Marco’s room.
She wasn’t even given the chance to get inside. The nurse who had shooed Rafe and Cat away a few moments earlier stood at the door, barring her from entry. Her words came clearly to the waiting area, even though she was some yards away. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Delgado, but the doctor’s working on your son right now.”
“I need to see him! What happened?”
“We’re not entirely sure yet. He had a spike in cardio activity. We’re trying to get him stabilized. If you could please go and sit with his friends, that would be great.”
Even as she ended this sentence, the light next to the door turned red and began to flash.
“What’s happening?” Sophia cried.
“He’s coding. Please — we need to work.”
Rafe got up from his seat then and went over to Sophia, taking her by the shoulders. “She’s right,” he said quietly but firmly. “Marco needs the doctors and nurses to do their thing, and we’d just be in the way. Come sit with Cat and me.”
He could feel the tension in her thin frame, but she seemed willing to accept his advice, allowed him to guide her over to the waiting area. Cat took the cup of coffee Sophia had been holding the whole time, then helped lower her into one of the chairs.
A pair of nurses came out of the elevator, dragging a piece of complicated-looking equipment with them. Rafe had no idea what it was for, but he assumed it was something needed to resuscitate his cousin. Cat’s eyes met his, full of wordless alarm. All he could do was stare back. Right then, he couldn’t remember feeling any more useless. The only thing they could do was sit here and let the professionals do their work — and hope it was enough.
The minutes crawled by. Rafe could hear a murmur of voices coming from within Marco’s room, but none of them spoke loudly enough for him to hear what they were saying. He didn’t know which was worse — to not know at all what was happening, or to have some idea but still realize there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of it.
At last the doctor emerged from Marco’s room. Her shoulders were slumped, which told Rafe everything he needed to know. Still, his mind didn’t want to recognize the truth. This couldn’t be happening…could it?
Apparently Sophia guessed as well, for she slowly rose from her chair and went to face the young woman, who probably was only in her early thirties, barely out of her residency. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
The doctor’s gaze shifted toward Cat and Rafe for a second. Possibly she was trying to determine whether they might be Marco’s brother and sister, or if they were merely friends. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Delgado,” the doctor said. “For lack of a more scientific term, his heart simply gave out. We’re not sure why. Possibly damage related to the stroke, although none of the EKGs we ran seemed to indicate that was even a possibility. We did our best, but it wasn’t enough, clearly.” Once again her slender shoulders drooped. “I am so sorry.”
Sophia nodded. Tears gathered in her eyes, bright and terrible, and ran down her cheeks, but she still remained almost preternaturally calm. “Thank you, doctor. I suppose you will want to do an autopsy?”
The doctor’s finely arched brows lifted even further. “I’m not sure we need to discuss that right now — ”
“I just want you to know you have my permission.” Sophia pulled in a breath. “I want to know what it was that killed my son.”
Rafe came to her, said quietly, “You can worry about that later, Sophia.”
She nodded. “You’re right. For now, I would like to be alone with my son.”
The doctor said, “Of course. Come with me.” Gently, she placed an arm around Sophia and led her into Marco’s room. Rafe hung back, standing near the waiting area, not sure what to do.
Cat’s fingers twined around
his. “Rafe, what’s going on?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t understand any of this. How could Marco be dead? Marco was a year younger than he was. The whole thing was crazy.
And what had Marco been trying to tell them? Who was Tess? Was she somehow connected to Miranda’s disappearance?
It seemed that whatever Marco had known, whatever he’d been attempting to say, it had gone to the grave with him.
Now they would never know.
11
Explorations
Miranda
Breakfast with Simon was surprisingly mellow — so mellow, in fact, that I wondered if I’d imagined the tension between us the night before, had allowed my semi-tipsy brain to manufacture undercurrents that simply weren’t there. We’d goofed around in the kitchen, making bacon and pancakes, and started putting together a list of things we’d need from the grocery store the next time we ventured out.
As I said, almost relentlessly normal…and completely the opposite of what followed.
More practice, of course. This time, I indulged a childhood fantasy of mine and managed to turn myself invisible. That is, I could look down and see myself, but Simon claimed that I had completely disappeared, even though he could hear my voice and was able to feel my hand when I reached out toward him. So maybe it was some kind of weird magical stealth ability rather than being truly invisible, but the result was the same.
“Well, that was fun,” I said, willing myself back to visibility. Even though I had been able to see myself the whole time, I still took a second glance down at my jeans and brown boots, relieved they were clear as day against the gravel driveway.
“It was,” Simon replied with a grin. “And you’ve got one up on me. I’ve never been able to manage invisibility, no matter how many times I tried.”
Darker Paths (The Witches of Canyon Road Book 2) Page 14
