Catch Me in Castile (23 page)

I had only four days left before it was time to cut my losses and head for home. If, after I found him, he told me he was going to marry Helena, then I would bow out gracefully. Even though sticking around simply to torment Helena with my presence sounded appealing, the healthier thing would be to get the heck out of Dodge.

Especially if
someone was trying to kill me.
There were sure enough people who wanted to. Did I really need to have a near-death experience before taking the hint?

Before I left the Botello home, I wrote an entry in my Get a Life Journal:
6) Find Santiago before it’s too late
.

I found the address in the phone directory and stopped at a store for directions. After checking my nerves and lipstick in the mirror of the car I had rented, I took a deep breath and went inside.

The waiting room was empty. A plump woman behind the counter startled when I walked up. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see any patients in here today. Can I help you?” she asked, hand over her heart.

“Yes,” I said, fighting the quiver in my voice. “I’m here to see Dr. Botello.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“I see. I’m sorry to tell you, but Dr. Botello is indisposed until next week. Can I recommend Dr. Virgilio? Just down the hall.” She pointed with her pen.

“I really need to see Dr. Botello. Is there some way he can be reached?”

She shook her head, “Sorry,
señorita
, I cannot say.”

“Can’t, or won’t say?”

She frowned. “I have my instructions.”

“Please, it’s a matter of life or death.”

“Oh dear, then I’ll call Dr. Virgilio.” She lifted the phone. “You may have a seat in the waiting room.”

I walked out the door.

Next thing I knew I was taking that elevator up to the eleventh floor of his apartment building and knocking on the door with more gusto than I felt. My heart was in my throat as I waited for the door to open.

No answer.

I knocked again several times, harder and harder each time. A few days ago, all I wanted was to pound my fists against his chest and bloody his nose. Now, I just wanted to hold him. Sorrow flooded my heart.

I’ll never see him again.

I sobbed with my forehead against the wood.

“
Señorita
, no one is home.” An ancient lady with cataract eyes peeked out from behind her door. “Do you wish to come in? Have something to eat? You look a bit…unstable.”

Haphazardly I wiped my cheeks. “No, thank you. I need to see the doctor. Do you know when he’ll return?”

“I’m not sure it will be today. When he left he was carrying a suitcase. Please come in. A little meat on your bones would do you some good.”

“I should be going. If you see him, can you tell Dr. Botello I came by? Here’s my card. It has my cell number on it.”

“I see.” Watery eyes squinted at the card and then back at me. “American, hmm?”

“Yes, I’m going home in a few days. I wanted to say good-by to Santiago, uh, Dr. Botello. Thank you again for your kindness.”

Her thin and gnarled arthritic hand grabbed at my wrist like an old bird claw. “How can you leave with the airlines on strike? Didn’t you hear about it on the news? No planes leaving today, tomorrow, for who knows how long.” She patted my arm. “Looks like you are not going anywhere.”

Story of my life
.

I thanked the old woman and drove to the police station.

A harried officer with a thick black moustache leaned over the counter at me. “You wish to file a Missing Person’s Report?”

“Yes. My doctor friend is in trouble.”

“So you say, but he has only been gone for one day?”

I sighed, knowing what was coming next. “Yes, but the circumstances are unusual.”

“Really?” His dark eyes bored into mine. “What are the circumstances?”

“I’m…I’m not sure. What if you suspect someone is in danger, but they won’t tell you exactly what it is?”

He shook his head in a now-I’ve-heard-it-all fashion. “Hold on.” He raised a finger and dialed a number. As he spoke on the phone, he kept glancing my direction, a frown spreading under that black moustache. When he finished the conversation he was fuming.

“Do you know how dangerous it is to lie to a police officer,
señorita
? Why do you want to waste my time?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Doctor Botello is not missing. I just spoke to his nurse. She knows exactly where he is.”

“Good. Then you can call him for me to make sure he’s all right.”

“I will not call a doctor who clearly does not wish to speak to you. Maybe you should see another doctor. You look feverish to me.”

I threw my hands up in disgust. “How am I going to find him?”

“
Señorita
, sometimes men do not wish to be found.”

I didn’t know what the darkness was, but it closed in all around me, crushing my lungs, blackening my thoughts.

Maybe he didn’t want me to find him. Maybe he just wanted me to go home.
Stop it,
I chastised myself.
What if he’s in trouble and no one helps him?

“On the veranda,” Maria answered.

I slid the glass door open. “Hey, how I can get in touch with Rosa?”

“Why?” Something flickered in her eyes.

“To see if there’s anything I can do. You know, with her sister being ill and all? Maybe she needs something I can bring to her.”

“That’s nice of you, Erin. I don’t know where her sister lives.”

I sat on the lounge chair next to hers. “You don’t have an address? Phone number? Anything?”

“No.”

“Relatives of hers I can call?”

“Nope.”

“That seems strange to me. I can’t believe you don’t have any emergency contacts.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“Um…”

“Exactly. Rosa is a private person. She doesn’t want any of us meddling in her personal affairs.”

“I’m not meddling. It’s just odd. How do you know when she’ll return?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “When I see her little round face, otherwise, we don’t bug her.”

“I see.”

“Look, while we are on the subject of harassing people, there’s something we need to discuss.” Angry circles formed on Maria’s cheeks. “Helena said you went to Santiago’s apartment, his office, and the police station looking for him.”

“How’d she know?”

“Come on, are you saying Helena’s lying? Of all the people I know,
she
doesn’t lie.”

Helena
had me followed
.

“No, she’s not lying.” I squeezed the tension building in my neck with my fingers. “But it’s not like that.”

“Aww, sweetie, you need to leave them alone. He’s made his choice. I’m sorry you’re hurting. You’ve got to see that you’re making matters worse.”

“I know,” I whispered, pressure building behind my eyeballs.

She sighed. “I love you, you know that, right? I’m sorry to just come out and say this, but someone needs to intervene. You’re sick, Erin. You should really see a professional.”

My heart sank.

Her lips were set firmly, her hands on her hips. “Crashing the car, stalking people, talking about evil and such?” She sighed again. “I’m sorry, so sorry. You need help.”

I smiled weakly. She didn’t even know about the ghost business. “As soon as this strike lifts, I’ll fly home.”

The shrill ring of the phone made me jump. Quietly, I moved down the hall.

Maria answered it in her room. “Santiago.”

Eavesdropping is not normally the kind of thing I’d do, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I held my breath outside her bedroom door and listened for all I was worth.

“Where are you?” she was saying. There was a significant pause. “Top secret, huh? You can trust me. I won’t spill anything to Helena. Oh all right, spoilsport.”

I leaned into the wall.

“Oh, she’s just fine. Back to normal,” Maria said.

He asked about me at least. Where are you Santiago?

“No. I don’t need to anymore. Everything’s fine.” There was silence as she listened to him. “No. I told you, no more pills.”

Whaaa? Pills?

“Santiago, will you stop? There’s nothing to worry about.” Her tone sounded as if one of them was worried. “Why are we talking about this? Concentrate on making those future plans. I’ll take care of Erin and send her on her way.”

I didn’t like the way
that
sounded.

I tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen, not a moment too soon. I was standing in front of the refrigerator replaying what I had just heard when she came in the kitchen.

“Hi,” I called out cheerfully. “Was that Rosa on the phone?”

Her brows drew together in a frown. “No, some telemarketer. I swear they get worse all the time.”

“Wow, you’ve got them in Spain too? What was he selling?”

“Hmmm? Oh I don’t know, who listens to them?” she said a bit tersely. “I was in the middle of making us lunch and now it looks like I’m out of time.”

Four pieces of bread, lunch meat, sliced cheese and a jar of mayo were lined up on the cutting board.

“You going somewhere?”

“Doctor’s appointment.” She grimaced. “Yeast infection. It’s bad.”

“Eeew. Those are awful. Why don’t you talk to Santiago about it?”

She shot me a look. “Go see my
brother
about a feminine problem?”

“No, I mean, can’t he just prescribe the pills you need so you can start taking them right away? What’s his number?” I took my cell out of my pocket. “I’ll call him for you if you feel funny about it.”

“No! I mean, no, I don’t want to bother him with this. It’s kind of embarrassing. I already have this appointment, I might as well just bite the bullet and go.”

“Are you sure?” I placed the phone on the counter in front of her. “You can call him, I’ll step away.”

“No.” She turned her back on my phone and helped herself to a Coke out of the refrigerator. “I hate to bother him with all my shit. It’s time I grew up and took care of myself. See you later.”

I frowned. My little trick hadn’t worked. I desperately wanted his number on my cell so I could call him after she left. Well, at least I knew he was alive. For now.

I went ahead and used the fixings she’d left to make my old standby, a turkey sandwich with mayo on a wheat roll. My appetite had returned in full force and I was starving. Leaning over the counter, I wolfed down the sandwich and chugged down a Coke. It was good to enjoy eating again. The illness or heatstroke that had upset my system was completely gone.

“One good thing on a perfectly horrible day,” I said to the empty kitchen.

Half an hour later, I was dying.

Slumped on the cold bathroom floor, knees drawn up to my chest, I rested my heavy head on the toilet seat. Consciousness was an elusive state, fluttering in and out of my grasp. I was coming to for the moment and the terrifying situation became real.

“Maria,” I called as loudly as I could for the hundredth time, but my voice was feeble and hoarse. “
Señora
Hernán? Anyone here? Please…help.”

No one answered. I was alone in that huge house. Alone and dying.

For all my efforts I was rewarded with another wave of nausea. I had lost the strength to drag myself back to bed. Walking was impossible. My muscles knotted and ached. I could barely lift my head. The spasms in my stomach threatened to go on forever. The strength required to stand and walk had seeped out of my body.

How long had I been draped over the toilet? It was growing dark. Could that be? I turned my face toward the window and felt the warmth from the sun on my cheeks.

I’m blind.

“Maria!
Señora
Hernán!”

All the muscles in my stomach convulsed. I lay there for a few moments, trying to catch my breath. Then slowly I began to crawl out of the bathroom.

“Help! Please, someone.”

From somewhere far away a shrill noise was scraping against my eardrums. I willed it to stop. Begged it to stop. I was tired. So spent. A heavy hand shook my shoulder. I opened my eyes. Or at least I thought they were open. I was still blind.

“What can I do?”
Serena asked inside my thoughts.

“The phone…” I whispered. “Call for help.”

“The what?”

“Help me…to the phone.”

I started to crawl. It was a painstaking effort. I grunted, I groaned in monosyllabic curses, dragging my body a few feet at a time before I had to stop, panting and retching.

I am so cold.
My teeth chattered.
My head…oh, God, my head.

“Keep going,”
Serena crooned softly.
“You can do it. You have to.”

The phone was only fifteen feet down the hall, but it might as well have been in another country. I wasn’t sure where I had left my cell phone. In the kitchen? I couldn’t waste time crawling in the wrong direction for it. Relying on my hands to guide me, I dragged myself like a blind inchworm.

The shrill sound started again. The phone was ringing. I had to get to it and tell the person on the line to call for an ambulance. I inched on.

The ringing stopped and the machine picked up. “Santiago, it’s Martin,” a deep voice said in English. “Pick up. This is important.” He blew out a breath. “The results are back from the blood sample you gave me. It’s not good. Hell, I’m not going to downplay this, it’s what you feared—it’s returned.”

Patting the wall, my palm hit a doorframe. I tried to recall. Three steps? Four, to the table with the phone?

“Are you hearing this?” the man shouted into the phone. “You’re all in danger. Let the authorities take care of…things. I know your usual modus operandi, but you can’t intervene, not this time.” His voice lowered. “I’m sorry buddy. I tried. We all gave it our best shot.”

My hand hit a table leg.

“Holy shit!” Horror zinged into the man’s voice. “I’m in trouble too, aren’t I, by association? Santiago, get out of there. Get out now.”

The line went dead.

My heart stopped for a fraction of a second. The image of Santiago’s face came into my view so perfectly I thought he was really standing there, arms outstretched and a beautiful smile on his face. My heart lurched and did a couple of fast beats.

Resting back against the cold wall, I sucked in huge gulps of air. Then I reached for the receiver. I was light-headed and delirious. I wasn’t sure I could dial 911. “Serena, help me.”

She didn’t answer.

“Serena?”

She was gone. I was alone. Cold panic flopped in my gut. When the onslaught passed, I pressed the 0.

“
Buenos días
,” the operator said.

The room was dark except for the shooting lights zinging past my eyes. I was going to pass out soon. “Help, I need help.”

“
Hola
?” She hadn’t heard me.

I tried again, but was forced instead to swallow hard in an attempt not to vomit. I wasn’t successful. The incensed operator’s curse words were new to me.

“No! Please…” I cried to the dial tone. The phone slipped out of my hand and crashed to the floor.

For a few moments I lay there and sobbed. I was dying. Part of me prayed it would be over soon. I had never been in so much agony. Every part of me was rebelling at once.

The room was pitch black, or rather, my sight was. I groped around on the floor for the phone. When I finally found it, I touched each button. Maria liked to store frequently called numbers. I hoped beyond hope I would find a button to connect me to someone. Anyone. I didn’t want to die alone.

Thank God.
The phone was ringing. It rang and rang and rang.

Sweet Jesus,
no one’s going to answer.

“
Bueno
?”

“Please…help…me,” I whispered and swirled away into oblivion.