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Repercussions
Dante I sit in an armchair I dragged into the master bedroom in my safehouse upstate, watching Dr. Fletcher and his nurse tend to El. She looks so small in the bed, the hollows of her cheeks sunken and her hair lank. Not seriously injured, the EMT said. Still, I’m thrilled I had enough time to hire Fletcher and the nurse before the raid. They’re discreet, professional, and fast. They talk to each other in snippets of conversation that give me the barest hint of what’s going on. “Saline. Her veins are shrunken.” “Heart rate elevated, but not dangerously.” “That laceration is likely infected. We need penicillin and a disinfectant.” I don’t dare interrupt them. I can’t imagine stealing a second Eleni might need to get better. Tear streaks mark her face, and she was already crying when I
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