Chapter 4 - The Secret Ward
The drive to the parish felt like navigating through a fever dream. The sky had turned a dark, bruised purple, heavy with the promise of an evening downpour.
My mind raced. Brenda was cornered now, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet. A cornered predator was the most dangerous thing in the world, and my mother—foolish, devout, blind Doña Elena—was sitting right next to her.
When I pulled into the cobblestone courtyard of the parish, I saw my mother’s small silver sedan parked near the back entrance of the community hall. Brenda’s red hatchback was nowhere to be seen.
I threw open my car door and ran into the building, my footsteps echoing through the wide, tiled corridors.
“Mama!” I yelled, pushing through the doors of the parish kitchen.
Father Samuel, an elderly priest with thick spectacles and a silver cross around his neck, dropped a tray of metal communion cups in surprise.
“Ricardo! Good heavens, child, what is the matter with you?”
“Where is my mother?” I gasped, looking around the empty kitchen.
“She left about ten minutes ago with Brenda,” Father Samuel said, frowning. “Brenda came in looking very flustered. She told your mother that you had suffered a severe breakdown at the funeral home and that you had been taken to a private clinic in Zapopan. Your mother was beside herself with worry! She got into Brenda’s car immediately.”
My heart stopped. “Which clinic? Did she say which clinic?!”
“No... just that it was near the military hospital,” Father Samuel said, coming closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Ricardo, what is happening? Brenda looked... strange. Her eyes... she wasn't listening to anything I said.”
I didn't answer. I pulled out my phone and called Agent Ibarra.
“Salvatierra!” Ibarra answered on the first ring. “We just raided Brenda’s apartment in Tlaquepaque. We found two unregistered handguns, cash envelopes, and a burner phone linked directly to El Alacrán. We’ve issued an emergency arrest warrant for her!”
“She took my mother, Ibarra!” I screamed into the phone. “She lied to her, told her I was hospitalized, and drove off toward the military district in Zapopan!”
There was a heavy pause on the line. I heard papers shuffling, followed by the sound of a police siren blaring in the background of Ibarra’s phone.
“Zapopan?” Ibarra’s voice sounded strangely tense, almost hesitant. “Doctor... listen to me very carefully. Where are you right now?”
“I’m at the parish! I’m getting into my car right now!”
“Drive to the Military Medical Center in Zapopan,” Ibarra ordered. “Gate 4, behind the main complex. Do not stop for anything. I am meeting you there with three units.”
“Why Gate 4?” I demanded, throwing myself into the driver’s seat. “Why would she take my mother to a military hospital?!”
“Because, Ricardo...” Ibarra took a deep, heavy breath over the static line. “There’s something about Camila’s case I couldn't tell you at the prosecutor’s office. Something we had to keep under total lockdown to keep her safe.”
My hand froze on the ignition key. The entire world seemed to tilt on its axis.
“What... what are you talking about?” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it was painful.
“Camila didn't die in that parking lot, Ricardo,” Ibarra said softly.
The phone almost fell from my hands.
“...What?”
“The bullet hit her upper chest, missing her subclavian artery by three millimeters,” Ibarra explained rapidly. “She went into massive neurogenic shock and lost consciousness immediately. When the paramedics arrived, she had no palpable pulse, which is why the first responding officer mistook her for deceased. But in the ambulance, they managed to restore a rhythm.”
Tears burst from my eyes, hot and blinding, spilling down my face as a ragged gasp tore from my chest.
“I ordered a complete blackout on her survival,” Ibarra continued. “We staged the death declaration at the scene, wrapped a white sheet over an empty gurney for the news cameras, and transferred her straight to the High-Security Ward at the Zapopan Military Hospital under a false name. If El Alacrán or Brenda knew she was alive, they would have sent someone to the hospital to finish the job!”
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“She’s alive...” I sobbed, laughing and crying at the same time, pressing the phone against my ear. “Camila is alive!”
“Yes, Doctor! She woke up from surgery three hours ago!” Ibarra yelled over the siren. “But Brenda isn't stupid! She must have realized the coroner’s office never released a body to the funeral home! She’s heading to that hospital right now to confirm her suspicions—and she’s using your mother as a human shield!”
