gangbanger boyfriend, who went by the name of Duke.
A week ago, she’d canceled an appointment to discuss inducing labor and had left a message saying that she planned to deliver “the natural way.” Sonya’s messages had gone unanswered.
Like many uncooperative cases, Gina might have fallen through the cracks. Other specialists in obstetrics and gynecology at North Orange County Medical Center did their best for such patients, but lacked the determination to track them down.
Sonya had lost a close friend to an ectopic pregnancy. A preventable death, had Lori sought treatment early enough, but she’d tried to hide her condition until too late.
Her death had inspired Sonya to pursue a medical career. She intended to make sure Gina and her baby had a happier outcome.
She’d contacted a girl who’d accompanied Gina on several prenatal appointments and at whose apartment Gina had stayed for a while. Sonya had explained that gestational hypertension could progress suddenly into a dangerous condition termed preeclampsia, which in severe cases might lead to convulsions.
“If anyone else tries to reach me, I’ll be on my cell. I appreciate your help,” Sonya told the nurse. Calls often came through the nurses’ station, since mobile phones were banned in most areas of the hospital.
“You got it.”
At the nursery exit, she stuffed her coverall into a laundry hamper. Thank goodness she had no further patients in labor and had finished her scheduled hours at the hospital-affiliated clinic where she worked.
Sonya’s rapid pace down the hall aroused a twinge in her right knee. Even two years after the accident, she still suffered pangs both physical and emotional, especially when stressed. She’d grown so accustomed to the pain that she hardly noticed.
In her office, Sonya brushed her dark shoulder-length hair out of its chignon. She changed from scrubs into jeans and a knit top so Duke’s buddies wouldn’t peg her as a social worker, then exchanged her low-heeled pumps for jogging shoes.
Because of the hour—5:15 on a Monday evening—traffic was heavy on Harbor Boulevard. Fullerton, a Southern California city with a population of more than 125,000, a thriving economy and a state university, generated almost as much congestion as Anaheim, a few miles to the south.
Sonya tensed each time her compact car approached an intersection. Would she ever lose the instinctive recall of metal crunching into metal and her fiancé’s shout of alarm?
Ex-fiancé. Once the figurative road got rough, he’d taken the first exit.
From Harbor, she made a couple of turns that brought her up winding Lemon Street, lined with thick trees marking the approach to the aptly named Hillcrest Park. How on earth was she going to find Gina in this thirty-seven-acre expanse, assuming she was still here? Well, it wouldn’t be the first wild goose chase Sonya had gone on since the girl had vanished.
She pulled into the parking lot and halted close to a steep flight of stone steps that led to the hilltop park. A tot playground and a striking Spanish-style community center flanked the blacktop.
At this hour, the place appeared deserted except for a silver sedan parked close to the community center. If Duke was nearby, perhaps he’d stashed his green van on a side street. That must be one of the precautions you took when you made your income selling drugs, as she suspected he did.
Great company Gina kept. As Sonya exited into the cool March air, she wished the girl had agreed to stay with her mother and stepfather, who disapproved of Duke.
A movement startled her. Around a corner of the community center appeared a tall man in a business suit intent on framing a detail of the picturesque building in his camera viewfinder.
He descended toward Sonya. She was about to ask if he’d seen anyone when, instead of issuing a greeting or simply minding his own business, he raised the camera and pressed the button.
It flashed. So did her temper.
She wasn’t part of the scenery, and this stranger had no right to capture an image that he could manipulate at will. Sonya had spent enough time around tech-savvy adolescents to know the angles.
“Please delete that shot,” she rapped out as he approached. “You shouldn’t have taken it without asking.”
“Sorry. Is that considered rude around here?” The man had a scar slanting across his forehead, and black eyes that seemed to absorb all the light in the vicinity. He didn’t sound apologetic, nor did he obey her request.
Sonya dropped the matter. She had a more urgent agenda. “Have you seen a pregnant girl about my height?”
He indicated the long flight. “I saw her staggering up that way with a couple of guys. That can’t be good for her, in that condition. Friend of yours?”
“Yes.” Cutting off further conversation, Sonya hurried upward. To her annoyance, the man trailed behind.
Due to the contours of the land, she couldn’t see past the top of the climb, and the rapidly fading dusk cast the area into shadow. What if the man had lied about spotting Gina? Although houses bordered the park on two sides, the sheer size of the place made it unlikely anyone would hear a scream.
Until her accident, Sonya had possessed steady nerves. Now anxiety sometimes threatened her ability to think rationally.
But she refused to yield. Clearing the top of the stairs, she glanced past a flat concrete bandstand to rows of picnic tables, where a welcome figure caught her eye. Sitting alone, Gina hugged herself inside a jacket that barely covered her swollen abdomen. Her heavily moussed shoulder-length hair stuck out in places. Evidently, she hadn’t brushed it since the last time she slept.
That resolved Sonya’s suspicions of the photographer. Even so, she disliked the way he arrived at her side and stood surveying the scene as if invited.
When Gina spotted Sonya, her face registered a mixture of guilt and defiance. A bit farther off, Duke was arguing with another man so fiercely he didn’t at first notice the new arrivals. Both men had the shaved heads, baggy pants and sleeveless undershirts of gang members.
Sonya caught the words money and need a few more days. Then both men broke off as they spotted her and the strange man, who asked in a low voice, “What’s going on here?”
“This is a private situation,” she said tightly.
“It’s a public park.” Despite his air of indifference, his body language struck her as wary. “The whole situation makes me curious.”
“Curiosity could get you killed.”
He shrugged. “That’s a risk reporters have to run.”
Newsmen didn’t usually wander around parks in search of stories. “For what paper?” she challenged.
“Out of state,” he replied calmly. “I was attending a conference in Anaheim.”
“And you made a beeline for Fullerton because it’s such a hotbed of news?” Sonya had nothing against an undercover DEA agent—that seemed the most probable explanation for his nosiness—but Gina and her baby were more important than some drug bust.
“I had an interview in the area. My flight doesn’t leave till tomorrow, so I took a self-guided tour of local landmarks.” He halted as Duke fixed them with a glare.
“Hey, Doc,” the fellow called. “You bring a narc?” He’d obviously drawn the conclusion from the man’s business suit.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I have no idea who he is.”
The rival gang member seized on his opponent’s distraction to lunge toward Duke, knife flashing. The move happened so quickly and unexpectedly that no one reacted except the would-be victim, who dodged, grabbed his opponent’s arm and wrestled him to the table.
Sonya was trying to figure out the best way to protect Gina. The reporter, if that