He looked at his watch: 2:35 p.m. La Paz Hospital was on the other side of the city. With the afternoon traffic, it was impossible to get there in less than forty minutes.
“I know,” the man said, his voice breaking, interpreting Carmen’s silence as a condemnation. “I know I was going fast. Give me the ticket, arrest me if you want, but please… I need to get there.”
A single tear rolled down Diego’s cheek, and he angrily wiped it away, ashamed. He wasn’t running recklessly. He was running against death.
Carmen looked at the half-written ticket. She looked at the scar on the man’s temple, the mark he got the day he saved her. Fate, with its strange sense of humor, had brought them together twelve years later, reversing their roles. Now it was he who needed saving. And she had the power to do it, or the power to destroy him.
Officer Ruiz put the pen away. She took off her sunglasses and looked him directly in the eyes, breaking down the barrier between authority and citizen.
