The cooler temperature inside was a relief from the blistering hot afternoon, and Leine felt her bad mood shift into less lethal territory. The exterior of the home hadn’t suggested the comfortable and spacious interior, and Leine relaxed a bit when she saw medical books on the bookshelves they passed, as well as a framed diploma in the hallway from a well-known medical school in Mexico City.
“He’s in his office,” Willy said as he led her down the tiled hall past a sweeping stairway. They continued to a room at the back of the home, which turned out to be the doctor’s office. Inside the room were a large desk, a floor lamp, a three-panel screen, and an examination table. A gray-haired man sat crouched over the desk.
“Doctor Ramirez,” Willy said.
The man swiveled to face them. Leine pegged him to be somewhere in his seventies. His brown eyes unnaturally large behind thick lenses, the doctor wore a loose, short-sleeved shirt, a pair of pressed chinos, and a weary expression on his face. His gaze traveled to Leine’s arm and back again.
“William told me you had been injured.” He motioned for Leine to come forward. “Let me see.”
“I’m—ah—I’m just going to go now, if that’s all right…” Willy said, and started to back out of the room. Leine shot him a glance and he froze.
Doctor Ramirez studied her arm for a moment and gingerly turned it to look at the back side. “Ah,” he said, probing the area surrounding the wound. Leine winced but said nothing, shutting down the pain.
“The bullet exited here,” he explained, lightly touching the back of her upper arm. “It does not look as though it came into contact with bone or an artery. This is extremely fortunate. I will need to clean the wound before I bandage it.” He opened a lower drawer and pulled out a pale blue, short-sleeved hospital gown. “Only remove your shirt. You may use the screen.” He nodded at the three-panel divider.
Leine took the gown and walked to the other side of the screen, behind which was a door she assumed led to a bathroom. She tried the knob, but it was locked.
“You should go into the hall,” Doctor Ramirez said to Willy. “This won’t take long.”
“You need to stay here, Willy,” Leine called through the screen.
Careful not to touch the injury, Leine maneuvered the T-shirt over the wound and pulled the rest over her head. She slipped the gown on and returned to the examination table.
“Where’s Willy?” Leine asked. The extortionist was nowhere to be found.
“He had to use the restroom,” Ramirez replied. “He said he’d be right back.”
The doctor rolled his chair to a cabinet next to the table, slid open a drawer, and retrieved a roll of gauze, antiseptic swabs, a pair of scissors, and two large bandages, which he lined up neatly on the counter. Ramirez instructed her to sit while he proceeded to tie a clean tourniquet around her arm, removing the old one and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket.
“I can give you something for the pain, if you like.”
“As long as it’s in a form I can take later.”
Doctor Ramirez rummaged through a cupboard until he found what he was looking for, and handed her a blister pack of pills. Leine put it in her back pocket.
“Thanks.”
Leine stared at the wall, trying to ignore the pain as Ramirez disinfected the entry wound and discarded the blood-soaked material. As he worked his way to the back of her arm he cocked his head to the side. “How is it that a beautiful woman comes to me with a bullet wound in her arm?” When Leine didn’t answer, he frowned. “Unless this beautiful woman has been doing something she should not have been.”
“That is no concern of yours, Doctor.”
Doctor Ramirez sighed. “So they tell me,” he said.
They? Leine narrowed her eyes. Where was Willy? There’d been plenty of time to relieve himself.
“Doctor Ramirez, would you mind calling Willy back inside?”
Ramirez gave her a quizzical look but nodded. “Of course. William?” he called. He continued to tend to her wound, wrapping several layers of gauze around the two pads, one at the front of her arm and one at the back. When Willy didn’t respond, Leine stood up.
“But I’m not finished,” the doctor protested.
Leine tucked the loose end of the gauze into the rest of the bandage to secure it. “I am.” Drawing her gun, she moved toward the door and cracked it open. Muffled voices from another room floated toward her. She turned to the doctor.
“Who else is here?” she asked.
Chapter 16
Doctor Ramirez opened his mouth, his eyes wide as he looked at the gun.
“There is no one else. I live alone except for my housekeeper, Esmeralda, but she has the day off today.”
“I’m going to ask you a question and you need to answer me truthfully,” Leine said, watching the hallway from behind the door.
“Of course.”
“Who do you work for?”
“It is only me. Why do you ask?”
Leine turned her head. “You misunderstand my question. Who do you work for?” The voices in the hall grew louder. Her heart thudded in her chest.
Ramirez glanced at the floor. Shaking his head, he raised his eyes to meet Leine’s. “I assumed you knew. William told me you were one of them.”
Otero. Leine eased the door closed, making sure to lock it, and strode to the window next to the desk. Vertical iron bars blocked the opening.
“Where is the nearest exit?” she asked, her body thrumming with tension.
“There are only two ways into or out of the house, unless you are on the second floor. The windows there have no bars.”
Leine briefly considered holding a gun to Ramirez’s head and using him to evacuate the building, but hostage-taking rarely ended well, for the hostage or the hostage-taker. If she managed to maneuver them both to the SUV, getting into the vehicle put her at high risk; one step to the left and Ramirez was out of danger, leaving her wide open.
“What about that door?” She nodded at the three-sided screen.
“It leads to a supply room with a toilet. There is a small window, but bars cover it, as well.”
The doorknob jiggled, followed by knocking.
“Doctor Ramirez? It’s Willy. Have you finished?”
Leine crossed the room in two strides, grabbed the doctor by the front of the shirt, and dragged him behind the screen.
“Tell them to wait.”
“One minute,” Ramirez called.
“Unlock the door,” she said in a low voice, aiming her gun at his midsection. Ramirez reached inside his front pants pocket and produced a key ring with several keys. His hand shook as he fumbled for the correct one. Leine stepped back to give him room, fighting to remain calm.
Finally, Ramirez found the correct key, inserted it into the lock and opened the door. Leine snatched the key ring from his hand on her way into the room. She turned and held a finger to her lips as she silently closed and locked the door behind her.
The room was small, about five feet wide by eight long. A toilet stood against the back wall with a deep laundry sink beside it. A recessed window was to her right, the shadow of vertical bars visible through the glass. Stainless shelves stood next to the window. Medical paraphernalia filled the top three tiers, and cleaning supplies took up space on the two lower ones. A plastic bucket with wheels and a mop skulked in the corner.
Muffled voices floated toward her through the door. Doctor Ramirez could be heard arguing. Leine couldn’t hear Willy’s voice and didn’t recognize the other two.
The handle rattled. “Unlock the door, now,” a male voice demanded in heavily accented Spanish. Only the accent wasn’t Spanish.
Doctor Ramirez responded with something unintelligible. Leine glanced at the bank of fluorescent lights above her. She slid her gun into her waistband and stepped onto the lower shelf. Grabbing hold of an upper rack with her good arm, she boosted herself high enough to latch on to the light fixture. Several shots rang out and the do
or handle jerked convulsively.
She climbed up one more rung and, still holding on to the light fixture, stepped across to the windowsill. Bracing herself, she let go of the light and slid her gun free. The door burst open. A spray of bullets slammed into the far wall, shattering the toilet as the lead gunman emerged.
Water gushed across the floor as Leine returned fire. Surprised by her elevated position, the gunman didn’t move in time, and the bullets found their mark, shattering the right side of his face. With a scream of pain, he grabbed at his head and staggered from the room, blood pouring from the gaping hole. She continued firing through the open door as a second gunman threw himself against a wall, out of the line of fire. Ears ringing, Leine leapt to the floor and kicked the door closed. Jarred by the impact, agonizing pain coursed through the left side of her body, stealing her breath and clouding her vision. She leaned against the wall, gasping.
The broken handle quivered. Moments later, the door burst open and the body of the first man lurched through, the second gunman shooting from behind as he muscled the corpse into the room. Leine broke from behind the door and fired. The bullet burrowed into the shooter’s side and he cried out, clutching his waist. Unable to handle the weight of the dead gunman, he collapsed to his knees, the corpse sagging on top of him. With a grunt, he shoved the body onto its side.
“Drop it,” Leine ordered, her gun aimed at his temple.
The gunman closed his eyes and shook his head, his breath coming in short bursts. His gun wavered as though the weapon had grown too heavy. Without a word, he raised the barrel.
She fired.
Ramirez was speaking rapidly into his cell phone when Leine stepped over the two bodies and into the examination room. He placed the phone on the desk when he saw her and backed away.
“Please don’t shoot. I—I have more medicine. Here—” He yanked open a drawer and ripped through its contents until he found a box of painkillers, which he held out to her. His hand trembled.
Her mind racing, Leine strode past him toward the door. Satisfied no one else was coming down the hall, she walked back to the desk and grabbed the phone to see who called. William Flint. She held it to her ear. Dead air. She placed it back on the desk as she turned to Ramirez, the gun aimed at his head. Sweat rolled down the side of his face. The painkillers lay scattered at the doctor’s feet.
“Your shirt,” she said, pointing the gun at his chest.
“What?”
“Give me your shirt,” she repeated.
Ramirez quickly unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and held it out to her.
“On the desk.”
He laid it on top of the desk and stepped back.
“Bandages. Antibiotics,” she managed. She was losing it. Dark spots floated in and out of her vision and her knees trembled. She had to get to the SUV.
The doctor scrambled for more bandages and gauze, placing them inside a plastic bag, which he put on the desk next to the shirt. Then he reached into a drawer for a bottle of pills, adding them to the bag. “Antibiotics,” he offered.
Nodding, Leine picked up the bag and shirt and tucked them under her arm. “You never saw me,” she said.
“But they will know you were here.” Ramirez glanced at the two corpses lying on the floor. “What do I say when they ask what happened?”
“Whatever you tell them, lie. Give them a different hair color, ethnicity, age, different clothing, whatever. If they find me, it will be on your head.” She backed toward the door and glanced into the hallway before turning to the doctor. “You don’t want Esmeralda to have to look for another employer.”
Ramirez blinked, licking his lips. “I understand.”
“Tell Willy I’ll find him,” she said, and slipped out the door.
Chapter 17
Hypervigilant, she crossed the street to her car, scanning for immediate threats. A second SUV with blacked out windows was parked on the other side of the street, presumably belonging to the dead gunmen. There was no sign of anyone, including Willy Flint.
Leine climbed into her vehicle, started the engine, and calmly pulled away from the curb. There hadn’t been any sirens yet, but that didn’t mean the local police weren’t on their way. She didn’t know the neighborhood but assumed gunfire wasn’t an everyday occurrence. She hooked a left onto another shade-lined street and continued to wind her way back to the rental agency.
Several blocks later she pulled to the curb, parked, and took off the bloody hospital gown. The bullet wound was seeping blood, staining the gauze crimson. Ignoring it for the time being, she slipped on the doctor’s shirt. Although short-sleeved, it was large enough to cover the bandages. She checked her face in the rearview mirror and used a clean scrap of hospital gown to wipe away the obvious blood spatters.
When she was satisfied with her appearance, she pulled away from the curb and drove toward A-1 Rentals. Her good arm felt like a lead weight. Her body screaming for rest, she fought the longing to lie down.
She had to find a grocery store where she could buy juice and cookies. The sugar would help her fight the dearth of energy that accompanied significant blood loss. Where the fuck is an Oxxo when you need one? The ubiquitous convenience stores could usually be found on every street corner throughout Mexico. But now? Not one in sight.
She drove down one promising street after another but still couldn’t find a store. Beyond frustrated, she forced herself to head toward the rental agency before she passed out. Once she was there, she could call a taxi to take her to the border.
She turned right onto a main arterial street. On the opposite side was a small market advertising fresh fruit, soda, and cigarettes. Leine pulled in next to the curb and shifted into park. She got out and took several deep breaths as she made her way into the store. The cold blast of the air conditioner took her by surprise. She hadn’t noticed how warm her skin was. She’d have to take the antibiotics soon.
“Galletas,” she said to the woman behind the counter. Her voice sounded weaker than she’d intended.
The clerk’s eyebrows shot up as she pointed to a rack behind Leine. Leine turned, grabbed the first package of cookies she saw and ripped it open, shoving the contents into her mouth. Noticing the look on the clerk’s face, Leine fished a handful of money from her pocket and threw it onto the counter.
“Jugo,” she said, her mouth full of cookie. The clerk pointed at the back of the store to an older, glass-front cold case. Forcing herself to walk in a straight line, Leine made it to the case and wrenched the door open. She selected two bottles of orange juice and returned to the counter. The clerk rang up her purchases, all the while politely ignoring Leine’s obvious distress. Grateful she didn’t have to engage, Leine paid and left.
Once inside her vehicle, she popped open the juice and drank as much of it as she could. Then she ate another cookie and washed it down with more juice. When she felt some of her strength return, she brought out her phone and glanced at the screen. Lou had called twice and left a message. She’d have to call him later. There was someone else she needed to talk to. Leine hit speed dial for Agent Herrera.
“I just made your job harder,” Leine said when he answered.
“What do you mean?” His voice assumed a wary tone.
“There’s more to Josh and Elise’s disappearance than we thought. I found the car at the bottom of a ravine with a dead body in the trunk. I think it’s Josh.” She took out the bottle of antibiotics and twisted the cap off.
“Jesus. How’d you know where to look?”
“Willy Flint.” Leine popped two of the pills into her mouth and followed them with a swig of juice.
“And he would know, how?”
“Apparently he was the one who drove it off the cliff.” She grabbed the plastic care package from Ramirez, fished around until she found the bandages. Then she put the phone on speaker and placed it on the console. “He was playing me against the people who hired him to do it, to see who’d pay more; but I’ll get to that i
n a minute.”
“Go on.”
Leine carefully removed the saturated bandages and tossed them on top of the bag. She ripped open several sterile pads and laid them out in front of her on the dash. “Someone—probably Willy—tipped off Ignacio and his sidekick, although Willy’s involvement didn’t occur to me at the time.”
She tore off a length of surgical tape with her teeth and placed it on the dash, sticky side up. Using half of the sterile pads to cover the entry wound and half for the exit wound, she looped the gauze several times around her arm and secured the dressing with the tape.
“They knew where I was and came by to teach me a lesson. They’re no longer a problem, but Ignacio got lucky and shot me in the arm. I had to find a doctor in town and instead of calling you, I contacted Willy.”
“You what?”
Leine stopped what she was doing. “I took him with me, assuming I’d be able to keep an eye on him. I was wrong.”
There was a pause. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, although two more of Otero’s thugs tried to kill me while I was at the doctor’s. They’ve been taken care of,” she added. She rolled up the gauze and put everything away in the plastic sack, which she stuffed into her bag.
“Fuck, Leine. Anything else I should know?”
“Be careful. They’re going to be pissed off and might take it out on you since you were with me at Vista del Mar. Although, I’m not sure Ignacio had time to tell anyone about your involvement.”
“Who did you see?”
The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller Page 10