A tall, barrel-chested man stepped inside, his hands up in a pacifying manner.
“Señorita, I mean you no harm. I come to speak to you on behalf of Javier Mendoza.”
Maren’s eyes narrowed, and she took a cautious step backward. Javier Mendoza was shady at best. The locals feared him but never dared showed him disrespect. He was catered to, appeased and otherwise pacified by everyone, including La Fuerza Pública, the police.
There was only overheard gossip and speculation to fuel her apprehension. When his name was mentioned, it was always in whispered tones as if the people speaking feared that he might appear from thin air.
Maren didn’t know specifics about the man, but she knew enough to decide that if he’d sent a man at this time of night, it couldn’t be good.
“I’m leaving the clinic for the night,” she said, adopting a brisk, professional tone. “It’s been a long day and I’m closed until the morning.”
The man smiled, although it did nothing to ease her worry.
“It’s not a medical matter, señorita. Señor Mendoza would like to invite you to his home for dinner. He knows you’ve worked long hours today and wishes you to partake of his hospitality.”
Though his speech was accented, his English was impeccable. Each word carefully rendered. He looked like a thug but spoke like a complete gentleman. He gave her the absolute creeps.
“Please convey my apologies to Señor Mendoza,” she said smoothly, allowing none of her fear to slide into her voice. “I appreciate his kind invitation, but I’m very tired and would like only to return to my home so that I can rest. My day begins quite early, and as you can see, it’s gone quite late today.”
The errand boy, or rather errand hulk, didn’t look pleased by her refusal, so she quickly added, “Perhaps another time.”
Not that she had any intention in hell of ever honoring that particular offer. But if it would get the smooth-talking Neanderthal out of her clinic so she could go home, she’d say darn near anything.
His lips tightened but to her relief, he began to retreat. At the door, he turned, his gaze finding hers.
“I will inform Señor Mendoza of your refusal.”
Maren went still at the implied threat. Ice trickled into her veins and her respiration increased. She stood frozen as the man disappeared into the night, leaving her alone in the now-silent clinic.
It took her a long moment to recover and get over her paralysis. She walked haltingly to the doorway and stepped outside, glancing nervously left and right, almost as if she expected Mendoza to materialize just as she’d thought the locals did when speaking his name.
She shook her head as she locked up. She was turning into a complete ninny. She’d been in far scarier situations. Africa to name one. Thanks to Sam Kelly and KGI, she’d escaped unscathed, for which her parents and brother were extremely grateful. They’d been largely responsible for her not going back there again. They’d begged her to pick a safer place.
Now she wondered just how much safer Costa Rica was for her.
With a sigh, she began the short walk down the pathway to her cottage, rolling her neck and shoulders to ease the knots in her muscles. The evening air was sultry, damp in her nostrils but filled with the scent of flowers. They bloomed like crazy around the clinic and her cottage, courtesy of the locals who’d adopted her and helped with the upkeep.
She smiled, remembering the women bringing by food for her. Men stopping by to ask if she needed repairs. Many of her patients didn’t have money to pay for her services, not that she’d accept, but they looked for other ways to repay her. They’d accepted her. She was well liked and respected. And until tonight she wouldn’t have thought she had anything to fear.
Mendoza had never paid her an ounce of attention, and she’d been here for four years. What had changed? She would never believe she’d simply escaped his notice until now. He was a man who had his thumb on the pulse of the entire area. He’d likely know everyone and know everything that went on anywhere close to where he resided and did business. Whatever that business was . . .
She shook her head again as she let herself into the tiny house. She closed the door and locked it, ruefully acknowledging, again, that if anyone truly wanted access, her locking the door would hardly matter. But it offered her at least a sense of security.
The cottage was cluttered. She was hardly a neat freak. In fact, she was rather absentminded about nonimportant things. In her work, she was focused. Other things, not so much.
Her home was small, but it looked lived in, and during the day, sunshine filled the many windows, giving the rooms a cheerful glow. Her plants thrived, though she was clueless as to how they managed to survive her inattention.
She removed her glasses and dropped her stethoscope on the coffee table, setting her glasses carefully beside it. Then she shuffled into the kitchen to put water on to boil for her tea. She needed to eat, but nothing appealed and the thought of having to prepare anything was more than she could deal with at the moment.
Tea and crackers. It was a perfect filler, and then she’d have an early night and get some much-needed rest.
* * *
MAREN came awake with a start, her mind muggy. Confusion clouded her mind as she stared around, her brow furrowing as she sought to place herself. Glancing at the coffee table, she saw her half-full cup of tea and the box of crackers she’d barely eaten from.
She’d dozed off not long after she’d sunk into the couch. She hadn’t even finished her tea.