no idea whether they’re better. I’ve never worked with you.”
She looked up, as if surprised that I hadn’t paid her a false compliment.
I continued, “I’m just saying this is probably a bad time—”
“You need me to contact a girl in a coma. Simple. It’s ten o’clock and you’re not going to get anyone else to do it tonight. Might as well give me a shot, let me repay Lucas.”
What could I say to that? Spending the next couple of hours with the Diva of the Dead wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, but she seemed calmer now, as the high from her performance wore off. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Or so I kept telling myself as she dropped her robe and started searching for clothing.
Gone
FOLLOWING THE ADDRESS I GAVE, THE CAB STOPPED IN front of a square block of brick squeezed between a restaurant and a small accounting firm. Unlike its neighbors, this storefront had no obvious signage. It took a minute of searching to see the near-microscopic sign in the window: THE MARSH MEMORIAL CLINIC.
“Jesus,” Jaime said as I rang the after-hours bell. “What is this? A rehab center?”
“A private hospital,” I said.
“Shit. Who do you have to kill to get in here?” She caught my expression. “Ah, not who, but how many. A Cabal hospital.”
A blond woman in her forties opened the door. “Ms. Winterbourne. Hello. Mr. Cortez said you’d be by this evening. Come in, please. And I presume this is Jaime Vegas?”
Jaime nodded.
“Has there been any change in Dana’s condition?” I asked.
A brief flutter of emotion rippled the nurse’s composure. “I’m afraid not. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Mr. Cortez asked that this be a private visit, so if you need me, please buzz. Otherwise, I won’t bother you. She’s in room three.”
I thanked her and followed her directions into a side hall. As we walked, Jaime looked around, taking in everything.
“And just think,” she said. “This is for the employees. They’ve probably got a place in the Swiss Alps for the execs. And the family? God only knows. Can you imagine having this kind of money?”
“Remember where it comes from,” I said, quoting Lucas.
“I try, but you know, sometimes, you see what a Cabal can do and you think, hmmm, maybe tormenting a few souls now and then wouldn’t be such a bad gig. You’re dating the guy who’s supposed to own all this one day. I’m sure you think about that.”
“Not in a good way.”
“More power to you, then. I’d be tempted. Hell, I’ve been tempted. Ever met Carlos?”
“Carlos Cortez? No.”
“He’s the youngest. Well, you know, the youngest of the legit—uh, of Delores’s kids. Carlos is the hunk of the litter. Takes after his mother, who’s gorgeous…and as vicious as a rabid dog. Carlos got the vicious genes too, but seems to have missed out on Benicio’s brains, so he’s not very dangerous. Anyway, I met Carlos at a club a couple years back, and he showed some definite interest. There were a few moments there when I was tempted. I mean, here’s a guy with money and power, wrapped in a damn near perfect gift box. What more could a girl want? Okay, maybe someone who doesn’t have a reputation for nasty bedroom games, but everyone’s got their hang-ups, right? Honest to God, that’s what I thought. I’m standing there, looking at this guy and thinking, hmmm, maybe I could change him.”
“Probably not.”
“No shit, huh? I don’t learn my lessons well, but that’s one I’ve committed to heart. Take it or leave it, ’cause you ain’t gonna change it. But that still didn’t keep me from thinking about Carlos. Power and money—if Calvin Klein could bottle the scent, he’d make a fortune.” She tossed a grin my way. “Just think, we could’ve been sisters-in-law. We’d certainly have livened up family reunions.”
I pushed open a door marked with a small 3. “They’re probably lively enough as it is.”
Jaime laughed. “I bet. Can you imagine—”
She stopped as we stepped into the room. It was twice the size of my apartment bedroom. A leather couch and two matching recliners were grouped around a coffee table just inside the door. Past that was a king-size bed. A girl with long blond hair lay in the middle of it, a sunflower-patterned quilt pulled up across her chest. Her eyes were closed. Bandages encircled her neck. To one side, machines bleeped discreetly, as if trying not to wake her.