Justice Lost (Darren Street #3)(7)

I stared at the computer screen in my apartment and thought about that night. It had only been a week. I first knew something was wrong when Jenny Diaz, the nurse, brought the second, older nurse in to look at Grace. That was when they told me they were moving Grace to another room. If Jenny Diaz had noticed something and gone to get the second nurse, the countdown started when Jenny walked out of the room. That moment, I believed, was when Jenny Diaz began to believe Grace’s uterus may have ruptured.

Up to that point, the doctor was nowhere to be found. We’d been told he had been paged and that he would be arriving soon, but he didn’t arrive until Grace was obviously in trouble, and when he did arrive, he looked and smelled drunk. I needed some answers, so I decided to turn to the nurse, Jenny Diaz. I called the birthing center and asked for her, but they told me she wasn’t working until the next day. I asked what time her shift started, and surprisingly, the young woman I was talking to offered the information right up. Jenny would be in at 7:00 a.m. the next day.

“Twelve-hour shift?” I said.

“Right. She gets off at seven.”

The next morning, I was in the employee parking lot at the birthing center at 6:30 a.m. At 6:45 a.m., I saw Jenny Diaz get out of a silver Chevy Malibu. I watched her walk into the hospital. I left, but I was back twelve hours later. I got out of my car when I saw her walk out of the building. It was hot, nearly ninety degrees and muggy. I stopped about ten feet from her car.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Diaz?”

She looked over at me, surprised, and then stopped dead in her tracks.

“I apologize if I frightened you. I’m Darren Street. I was here last week with Grace, the woman who—”

“I remember you,” she said.

“I wanted to thank you for your kindness.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m sorry about what happened. I really am.”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“I really shouldn’t talk to you, Mr. Street. I’m sure there will be a lawsuit.”

“I’m not filing a lawsuit. Grace and I weren’t married, and I don’t want money for the baby. It wouldn’t bring her back. Wouldn’t do any good.”

“Her parents will probably sue,” Jenny said.

“Maybe. Probably. But that has nothing to do with why I want to talk to you.”

She looked around the parking lot. “There are cameras out here.”

“I know.”

It was a part of me now, looking for cameras everywhere I went. I was constantly vigilant about watching for people following me. I did a lot of doubling back in traffic, circling blocks multiple times, pulling in and out of parking lots. The things I’d done in the past had caused me to become paranoid.

“There’s a dog park just down the street,” she said. “We could talk there for a few minutes.”

“Perfect. I promise I won’t take much of your time. I’ll follow you.”

I was relieved to hear that she’d talk to me, and as I followed her out of the parking lot, I wondered why a nurse who would undoubtedly become involved in litigation, who would be deposed, and who could possibly lose her job if anyone found out she had spoken to me would make herself so accessible. Perhaps she felt guilty. Maybe she knew instinctively that when Fraturra didn’t answer his pages early on that he wasn’t coming and that she should have called the head of his medical group immediately. Perhaps she was simply a genuinely kind person and thought she could be of assistance to someone who was grieving. Or maybe she had some kind of personal grudge against Fraturra. Had she known my real reason for wanting to talk to her, she probably would have fled with her arms flailing, screaming at the top of her lungs for help. But instead, five minutes later, we were sitting next to each other on a park bench in the shade of an elm tree while people and their dogs passed by.

“Long day?” I said.

She looked tired, but she was a pretty woman with high cheekbones, dark, smooth skin, and shiny black hair.

“How did you know when I would be getting off?” she said.

“I called the nurses’ station last night. They told me.”

“No questions asked?”

“Nope.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not some kind of murderer or stalker.”

If you only knew, I thought. “Yeah,” I said. “You might want to speak to them about giving out information over the phone.”

“I assumed the woman who died was your girlfriend, but I wasn’t sure until you said so back in the parking lot. How long had you known her?”

“Several years. We were engaged once, but we went through a rough time and broke up for a little while.”

“She was a sweet lady.”

“Yes, yes, she was.”

“Where is she now? I mean, I know she isn’t, you know . . . Was her funeral here in Knoxville?”

“She was originally from San Diego. She and the baby are there now. It’s a nice spot.”

She folded her hands and looked down at the ground. “What did she do? For a living, I mean.”

“She was a lawyer. She worked in the federal system, defending criminals.”

“Really? That beautiful lady was a criminal lawyer?”

I smiled and nodded my head. “Don’t let the pretty face fool you. She was as tough as a pine knot. Smart, too. The world lost a fine lawyer and an even better person.”