Authors: Phoebe Conn
“Perhaps, but I won’t be able to count them at my memorial service. Is there anyone here who seems out of place?”
Ana refrained from mentioning him, but nodded toward two well-built men who might possibly be bodybuilders. “There are people here I don’t recognize, but those two might have been the S&M models.”
“I noticed them and plan to question them when they leave rather than disrupt the memorial. By the way, Robles and Mesa toured local gyms but failed to learn anything significant. As for today, I thought your remarks were especially touching.”
“Thank you. They were sincere.” She saw Gian Carlo on the opposite side of the patio, apparently staying out of the lieutenant’s reach, and hurriedly covered a yawn.
“A late night?” Montoya asked.
“Yes, and a very enjoyable one. Will you excuse me?” She turned away before he could object and circled the crowd to reach the refreshment table. There were plates of cookies, small cakes, and candies along with wine and lemonade. She took a cup of lemonade and sipped it while she scanned the group. Valeria and Lourdes were talking with a male model Ana worked with occasionally. Apparently the three were close friends. With a lean build, he didn’t look suspicious, and in the soft-spoken crowd, no one appeared to be hiding murderous intentions. She made her way to Gian Carlo, who now stood alone.
“I’m ready to leave whenever you are,” she confided.
“Now would be fine with me. Let’s tell Galen and his wife good-bye.”
Galen winced as they approached him, but Ana focused on his wife. “This was such a nice memorial for Jaime. Thank you so much for hosting it.”
Lena looped her arm through her husband’s before she nodded to acknowledge the compliment. “Let’s hope we won’t have another such sad occasion anytime soon.”
Gian Carlo agreed and took Ana’s hand as they left the patio by the side gate. He opened the door of his MG for her and looked back at the house. “Why do you suppose Galen married her?”
She waited for him to get into the driver’s seat. “Maybe her father had the money to finance his first collection, or they fell madly in love when neither had a dime.”
He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine. “Whatever the reason, we can say we were here. Is there anywhere you’d like to stop on the way home?”
A long walk would have been so nice with Alejandro, but she’d had enough of Gian Carlo’s company. “Thank you, but I’ve things to do at home. Don’t you?”
“Sure, but I do my best to avoid them. What’s your next job?”
There was no news on the Almodóvar film, but she wouldn’t have mentioned it if there were. “I’m working with a French shoe designer, Lamoreaux. He wants only my legs, however.”
Turning left, he looked toward her. “You do have great legs. Oh hell.”
He’d taken the turn too fast, and Ana grabbed for the dashboard to brace herself. He wrestled with the wheel. The tires screamed for purchase, and the sports car skidded out of control. She saw a bright flash of blue sky.
Orlando Ortiz had been rushed to the hospital closest to his home, and, certain a moment of garbled speech wasn’t serious, he was an extremely poor patient. He submitted to a CT scan under duress, but no blockage or bleeding was found in his brain. “I told you there was no reason for alarm.”
His doctor disagreed. “You probably had a TIA, or transient ischemic attack. The symptoms your wife observed were real, but quickly passed. She was correct to insist you come to the hospital, however. I’ve warned you to quit smoking. Alcohol and a high-fat diet are also contributing factors in strokes. You need to make some changes in your habits soon. When was the last time you went on a vacation? Do you ever sail on one of your cruise liners?”
Thoroughly annoyed, Orlando shook his head. “I’ve no time to waste on vacations.”
“Clearly you’re a Type A personality. They believe they thrive on stress, but the opposite is true. They often die of massive strokes long before their time. You have young boys to consider. What about your eldest son? Is he any help to you?”
Orlando barely contained a rude snort. “He intends to be an architect and build homes for the poor. He’s not interested in the business.”
“That’s unfortunate. I want to speak with your wife before you go, but you must regard today’s episode as the warning it is and make your health a priority.”
Orlando nodded, and checked his watch, eager to go.
Alejandro found his stepmother in the emergency waiting room. She was a petite woman with henna-tinted hair and several years too young to be his mother. They were polite to each other but had never really bonded. He sat down beside her. “How is he?”
Carlotta grabbed his hand. “He always knows everything, but when I couldn’t understand him, I told him slurred speech is a bad sign, and I refused to wait for him to get worse. His doctor met us here and is seeing him now.”
She’d always been devoted to his father. Alejandro gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “You were wise to make him come. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
“Nothing is easy with such an obstinate man, but you know him.”
That was the first critical word he’d ever heard her speak about his father. He nodded rather than add his own lengthy list of complaints. He recognized the doctor approaching them and stood with her.
“I have good news.” The physician explained his findings and the warnings he’d given Orlando.
Alejandro understood his description of a TIA, but Carlotta had multiple concerns. “I make sure my husband eats healthy food at home, but he goes out with his friends and orders thick steaks. He doesn’t smoke around our boys, but he smokes in his office. I’ve no idea how much he drinks. It must be too much.”
The doctor laid his hand on her shoulder. “He’s the one who has to see the value of changing his habits. Compliment him when he does and ignore his poor choices. You can’t control his behavior and shouldn’t try. There’s no reason to keep him here. He’ll be ready to go home in a minute.”
As the physician walked away, Carlotta looked up at Alejandro. “He’s going to argue he didn’t need to come here, but he really did.”
“He should be grateful you’re looking after him so well.”
She shrugged. “He’s grateful for some things but not others. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Call whenever you need me.” Alejandro stayed until his father was ready to leave, but Orlando looked more annoyed than pleased to see him.
“I’m fine,” Orlando insisted. “You didn’t need to leave your studies to come here. I don’t want you to get behind and not graduate with your class since it’s so important to you.”
Carlotta rolled her eyes, and Alejandro understood why. His father intended to control everything and everyone he could, or die trying. They’d come in an ambulance, and he drove them home but quickly told them good-bye. Before Alejandro pulled his SUV out into traffic, he called to see if Ana had gotten home. Gian Carlo answered her phone. He was crying so hard Alejandro couldn’t understand him. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
Gian Carlo gave an audible gulp as he swallowed hard. “There’s been an accident. We’re at L’Esperanza.” His voice broke. “Ana’s hurt, and you need to hurry.”
Alejandro cursed under his breath. He’d thought he could trust Gian Carlo to see Ana home safely, but if she’d been hurt, he’d blame himself. “Calm down. How badly is she hurt?”
“Badly! And it’s my fault.”
Alejandro broke the connection and sped to L’Esperanza. The hospital treated accident victims, and Ana would receive excellent emergency care, but he damned himself the whole way for foolishly leaving her behind when she’d wanted to come with him.
He walked into the second emergency room for the day and found Gian Carlo huddled in the corner, hugging Ana’s purse. There wasn’t a mark on him. He sat down beside him. “Are you trying to tell me Ana is dead?”
“No,” Gian Carlo exclaimed, his blue eyes growing huge. “She’s alive. I rode with her in the ambulance. She hit her head and has a broken leg. Other things could be wrong, I don’t know. The doctor hasn’t come out to talk to me yet.”
Alejandro shoved himself back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “If you have Ana’s phone, did you call her mother?”
“I didn’t even think of it, and I don’t want to terrify her. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they looked.”
Alejandro felt sick. “It sounds as though they might be worse. Tell me how it happened with every detail.”
Gain Carlo shook his head as though he could clear away the bloody mental images. “We were talking about work. I took a corner too fast, lost control and hit a light pole. People came running to help. An ambulance was there in minutes. Ana was unconscious. She didn’t feel anything.”
Alejandro could easily imagine the red MG wrapped around a light pole and Ana lying crushed in the wreckage. It sickened him clear through. There had to be something he could do to help her. “If Ana’s unconscious, and her mother is in France, I’m going to say I’m her next of kin. Don’t dispute me on it. I’ll make whatever decisions need to be made until she can make them on her own.”
Gian Carlo looked around to make sure no one was seated close enough to overhear and still whispered, “You’re not her husband.”
Alejandro gave him a vicious glance and silenced that argument. “The hospital won’t know it, will they? We kept our marriage a secret so it wasn’t in the tabloids. Ana will be able to speak for herself when she comes to, but if anything has to be decided before she does, I’ll do it. Now give me her purse. You look ridiculous sitting here hugging it like a doll.”
Gian Carlo wiped his nose on his sleeve. “It was down by her feet, so her phone and camera weren’t smashed.”
Alejandro reached for the bag, but the side was wet where Ana’s blood had soaked through. Sickened, he set it on the floor by his feet. “If we lose Ana, I’ll kill you.”
“Don’t bother, I’ll kill myself. She was so beautiful. She didn’t deserve this. I should have been the one hurt. I’ve never been in an accident. Never. I wasn’t drinking either. I was cold sober, just stupid and driving too fast.”
Alejandro didn’t argue with him. They drank coffee from a vending machine and regretted it. They’d been waiting nearly two hours when a pretty young woman in a white coat came their way. They rose and stepped toward her.
She directed her first question to Gian Carlo. “I’m Dr. Pallares. Are you Miss Santillan’s brother?”
“No, just a good friend. This is her husband.”
Alejandro gave his name with his usual pride, but Dr. Pallares frowned slightly. “I hadn’t heard Ana Santillan had married, of course, I don’t follow popular culture as closely as some people do.”
Alejandro lowered his voice. “It was a quiet ceremony, and we hadn’t announced it to the public as yet. How is she?”
“Come with me, I’ll show you her X-rays.”
Alejandro brought Ana’s bag. Gian Carlo tagged along behind them. They were led to an empty treatment room where the physician put the X-rays on display. “Her lower right leg was broken in three places. An orthopedist will insert a rod through the center of the tibia to hold the bones in alignment. It will take several weeks to heal, but with time for rehabilitation, she should still be able to strut a runway gracefully. I do need your signature, Mr. Vasquez.” She had a clipboard with the proper forms, and he scanned them hurriedly before signing.
“Thank you. Ana suffered a concussion, and she’ll recover with rest. A plastic surgeon will repair the cut in her head. It sliced through her cheek, but again, with time to heal, she’ll be as beautiful as ever.”
“May I see her?” Alejandro asked.
“She’s being prepped for surgery, so you’ll have to wait until she’s in the recovery room. You’d be more comfortable at home. I’ll give you a call when she’s out of surgery.”
Alejandro shook his head. “My wife wouldn’t leave me. I’ll stay.”
“If you insist.” Dr. Pallares directed him to the waiting room on the surgery floor.
“I can’t leave either,” Gian Carlo explained and followed him. The small waiting room had more comfortable furnishings than the one in the emergency department, but neither man could relax.
Alejandro paced while Gian Carlo sat and shifted his position every other minute. “Do you suppose the cafeteria makes milkshakes?” he asked.
Sick with dread, Alejandro shook his head. “How can you think about food?”
“Milkshakes aren’t food, are they?”
“Yes, they are, but what does it matter? Go look for whatever you want.”
“Do you want me to bring you one? Milk has soothing qualities. It’s why people drink warm milk when they can’t sleep.”
Alejandro doubted he’d ever sleep again. “I’d only throw it against the wall.” He remembered licking frosting off Ana’s delectable body and had to sit down and rest his head in his hands. He ought to call her agent and Fatima, but he couldn’t find the necessary will. The same worry spun in his brain—if he hadn’t left Ana at Galen’s, she wouldn’t have been hurt. No matter how guilty Gian Carlo felt, Alejandro would always feel a thousand times worse. He’d known Ana only a month, but calling her his wife had been so easy. Their sudden marriage would only last until she woke. She’d probably be too sore to laugh, but she’d want to, and he’d have to pretend she hadn’t broken his heart.