Behind us, a car door shut near the outer gate.
Doctor Paloma heard it too.
For the first time, her eyes left mine.
Deputy Harris came through the cemetery path with one hand resting near his belt, his tan uniform dusted by the wind. Beside him walked a woman in a navy blazer with a state medical board badge clipped to her pocket. She did not look at the chapel. She did not look at the statue of Mary. She looked straight at the coffin.
“Step away from the container, Doctor,” Deputy Harris said.
Doctor Paloma smiled the way wealthy donors smiled when they wanted poor women to feel grateful.
“Deputy, this is church property. Mother Caridad is upset. She has been under strain.”
The woman in the blazer pulled on blue gloves.
“My name is Investigator Elaine Rusk,” she said. “And we have a warrant for your clinic records, your vehicle, and any medical materials stored on this property.”
That erased the smile.
