The Angel's Game (The Cemetery of Forgotten 2)

“I understand. I was hoping you wouldn’t be affected quite so much.”

“Why?”

“Because I need you. Or rather, Cristina needs you.”

I gave a deep sigh.

“You must think I’m a coward,” I said.

The doctor shook his head.

“How long has she been like this?”

“Weeks. Practically since she arrived here. And she’s getting steadily worse.”

“Is she aware of where she is?”

“It’s hard to tell,” the doctor replied with a shrug.

“What happened to her?”

Dr. Sanjuán exhaled.

“She was found, four weeks ago, not far from here—in the village graveyard, lying on her father’s grave. She was delirious and suffering from hypothermia. They brought her to the sanatorium because one of the Civil Guards recognized her from last year, when she spent a few months here, because of her father. A lot of people in the village knew her. We admitted her and she was kept under observation for a night or two. She was dehydrated and had probably not slept in days. Every now and then she regained consciousness, and when she did, she spoke about you. She said you were in great danger. She made me swear I wouldn’t call anyone, not even her husband, until she was capable of doing so herself.”

“Even so, why didn’t you let Vidal know what had happened?”

“I would have but … You’ll think this is absurd.”

“What?”

“I was convinced that she was fleeing from something and thought it was my duty to help her.”

“Fleeing from what?”

“I’m not sure,” he said with an ambiguous expression.

“What is it you’re not telling me?”

“I’m just a doctor. There are things I don’t understand.”

“What things?”

Dr. Sanjuán smiled nervously.

“Cristina thinks that something, or someone, has got inside her and wants to destroy her.”

“Who?”

“I only know that she thinks it has something to do with you and that it frightens her. That’s why I think nobody else can help her. It’s also why I didn’t let Vidal know, as I ought to have done. Because I knew that sooner or later you would turn up here.”

He looked at me with a strange mixture of pity and despair.

“I’m fond of her too, Señor Martín. The months Cristina spent visiting her father … we ended up being good friends. I don’t suppose she talked to you about me—there was no reason she would have. It was a very difficult time for her. She confided a lot of things in me, and I in her, things I’ve never told anyone else. In fact, I even proposed to her. So you see, even the doctors here are slightly nuts. Of course she refused me. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“But she’ll be all right again, won’t she, doctor? She’ll recover …”

Dr. Sanjuán turned his head toward the fire.