Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(21)
If Dave Newton’s investigation failed to exonerate Armando and some kind of multimillion-dollar lawsuit resulted, Joanna would be able to show in dollars and cents how spending a small amount of money on bodycams might have made all the difference.
She had just finished putting the final touches on that and sending it when Frank Montoya came in with Amy leaning on his arm. They stopped at the nurses’ station long enough, Joanna suspected, for Amy to be given a beeper that would let her know when Armando had been moved from the OR to a recovery room.
When Frank and Amy turned to search the room, Joanna waved them into the two unoccupied chairs she’d been saving for them. Amy looked like hell. When Joanna saw her earlier, before delivering the news, she’d seemed completely put together. Now her makeup was gone, her hair was a mess, and the despair on her face was apparent for all to see.
“He’s still in surgery,” Amy announced, “and I need to use the restroom.”
As she walked away, Joanna turned to Frank. “I thought you’d be here first.”
“So did I,” he said, “but Amy insisted on getting her kids organized and packing a bag to bring along. I think she knows she’ll be here for several days.”
“She’s not wrong about that,” Joanna said grimly. “I’m pretty sure she will be.”
“She cried most of the way here, so she’s probably cried out at this point,” Frank continued. “The problem is, much as I hate to do it, I have to drop her and run. I have a meeting coming up later this afternoon that I must attend.”
“You’ve done way more than your share,” Joanna told him gratefully. “I’ll be here, and so will Marianne Maculyea.”
Chapter 6
Joanna and Amy Ruiz sat together for the next two hours, but they mostly didn’t talk. Amy was busy fielding phone calls from relatives and well-wishers, and although Joanna knew that the calls were all well intentioned, she could see that every time Amy had to repeat the story of what had happened and tell people Armando was still in surgery, it depleted her that much more.
Finally, when Amy was briefly between phone calls, Joanna reached over and touched the woman’s knee.
“The people who are calling you all mean well, but they don’t have any idea that they’re draining away your strength. Turn off the phone. People can leave messages, and you can return them at your leisure. Have you had anything to eat?”
Amy shook her head. “Not since breakfast,” she said. “But I’m not hungry.”
“You still need to eat,” Joanna said firmly, sounding just like her mother. It was the same thing Eleanor Lathrop Winfield would have said, with the exact same inflection. “If nothing else, you can pick at a bowl of chicken noodle soup, but it’s going to be a very long night, and if you don’t get some nourishment, you’ll crash and burn.”
“This sounds like the voice of experience speaking,” Amy said, giving Joanna a wan smile.
Joanna nodded. “After Andy was shot, this is where they brought him. And then, when I lost him . . .” She paused, remembering, and then swallowed hard before she continued. “After a while things got so bad that I had to get away, so I took off on foot. I had no idea of where I was going or what I was going to do. I ended up at a hotel a few blocks from here—a place called the Arizona Inn. Have you ever heard of it?”
Amy shook her head.
“I went inside and tried to eat some lunch,” Joanna continued. “I ordered food, but I couldn’t eat it. I left most of my sandwich on the plate, and then I went outside. It’s a resort, you see—an oasis, really—with beautiful plush lawns and gardens. There was this little palm-frond-covered patio with a Ping-Pong table and four big blue wooden chairs, one in each corner.
“I was sitting in one of them, crying my eyes out, when this old lady came walking up to me. She looked ancient, probably somewhere in her nineties at least. One leg was in a brace of some kind, so she walked with a funny gait, but she stomped up to me like she owned the place and asked me if I was a guest. I wasn’t, of course, and I was sure she was about to throw me out, but then something strange happened. She asked me what was wrong and what she could do to help. All of a sudden, I spilled out the whole story—to a complete stranger. Then she took my arm and walked me to the lobby entrance, as though we’d been friends forever. I’ll never forget the words she said as she sent me on my way. ‘It will take time, my dear, but someday things will be better for you. Just you wait and see.’”
“And she was right?” Amy asked.
“Yes,” Joanna replied after a moment, “she was right, but it took a long time. That’s why I think things will be better for you, too, eventually, but right now it’s time for baby steps. We’re going to go down to the cafeteria. You may not swallow a bite of food, but I hope you’ll at least try.”
Chicken soup was one of the items on the cafeteria menu, and that seemed like a good choice. Since breakfast had been a very long time ago, Joanna ordered two bowls instead of one. Joanna ate hers. Amy did not. She stirred at it absently but swallowed only a taste or two. They spoke very little, and Joanna didn’t push it. There wasn’t that much to say. The road ahead for the Ruiz family held two stark and very different choices—either Armando would recover from his injuries or he would not.