“I know.” Naomi patted Welita’s shoulder, trying to calm her. “Mrs. Watson, can we move on with this?”
“Of course. The psychiatrist will be here in a few minutes to ask you some questions and determine whether or not you should be detained—for your safety.”
“I already told you, we’ll watch over her,” Welita said.
“I’m sure the psychiatrist will take that into account.” Mrs. Watson pulled out a pamphlet from the folder she was carrying and handed it to Naomi. “After your release, we recommend that you seek psychological treatment.”
“She’s not crazy.”
“I’m not crazy.”
Naomi and Welita spoke in unison.
Chuy took a breath and was about to say something, but he shut it when Welita threw him a glare.
Mrs. Watson pursed her lips. “As I mentioned to your grandmother, you can benefit from receiving psychotherapy. We have some good therapy groups in the city. In fact, I know of a fantastic psychologist not too far from where you live,” she pointed to the pamphlet Naomi held. “His information is in there.”
“I have my own plans for healing her,” Welita said.
“And how is that?” Mrs. Watson eyed her skeptically.
“She is going to start going to Mass with me every Sunday, and Rebecca will help me watch over her.”
“And who is Rebecca? A psychologist?”
Oh, boy. Here we go. Naomi leaned back into the bed. She knew her grandmother’s faith was important to her, but she doubted anyone else would understand or believe that she had a guardian angel named Rebecca.
“Uh, Welita.” Chuy got up from his chair and placed an arm around her. “I think it’s a good idea for Naomi to see someone.”
Naomi blinked with surprise. One, he dared to interrupt Welita, and two, he was challenging her. She’d never seen him do that.
Before Welita could say anything, he continued, “I mean, she can still go to Mass with you, but she needs someone to talk to who can help her work out her troubles. It doesn’t mean that she’s crazy if she goes. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Watson?”
“Of course, Mr. Duran.” She turned to Welita. “Think of it this way, Mrs. Duran. When a person has tooth pain, they go to the dentist. Well, when a person has emotional pain, they can go to a therapist.”
Chuy took Welita’s hand in his. “We don’t want her to be in pain anymore, and Naomi’s willing to go.”
Welita looked at Naomi. “Are you?”
Naomi looked at both of them, at the concern on their faces. Although she didn’t feel like going, she knew it would put their minds at ease if she did. “Yes, I’ll go. And I’ll go to Mass with you, too. Mrs. Watson, I’ll look into this”—she glanced down at the brochure and read the name of the psychologist—“Dr. Ryan Dantan.”
Mrs. Watson let out a breath and smiled. “Wonderful. I’m sure you will find him most helpful.”
***
In the waiting area down the hall from Naomi’s room, Lash paced in circles, stopping every time he heard someone walking down the hall. From where he was, he should’ve been able to hear if Naomi was awake, but the beeps of the machines and various noises of other equipment muffled any noise coming from her room. When he saw Welita marching down the hall and into the room, he felt a bit of relief. He doubted that she would look so fierce, arguing with the woman in the navy suit, if Naomi was close to death’s door.
Lash sank into the chair and dropped his head into his hands. How could he have missed it?
When he saw Chuy banging on Naomi’s door, it had taken every ounce of self-control he’d had not to run across the street, push Chuy aside, and knock the door down himself. There had to be something terribly wrong for Chuy to lose his cool like that, but he couldn’t figure out what. No one had gone inside the house, he was sure of that. He hadn’t smelled smoke, so there was no danger of fire.
When two paramedics had jumped out of the ambulance and ran into Naomi’s apartment, Lash had felt sick to his stomach. How could he have messed this up? His assignment had been simple: watch over the girl and make sure nothing happened to her. But only a few weeks later, there she was, being carried out on a gurney with blood-soaked bandages wrapped around her wrists.
A door creaked open, and Lash’s head popped up. The woman in the navy suit walked out and then down the hall. She looked around, making sure no one was watching before knocking on a closed door. A man with crocodile boots stepped out into the hall.
Sal! Lash jumped to his feet and got as close as he could to the pair while trying to stay hidden.
“It’s done,” the woman said. “Ms. Duran has agreed to meet with Dr. Dantan.”
Sal nodded, stuck a hand into his jacket, pulled out a small, thick envelope, and handed it over to the woman. Before she could touch it, he drew it away. “Don’t forget our agreement.”
“Of course. I’m a woman of my word,” she said as he placed the packet in her hand. She opened it and sifted through its contents.