She clawed at her pocket and, finding his inhaler, almost fell down the bleachers as she clambered over spectators to get to the ground. A chain-link fence stopped her rush forward. She frantically searched for a way in, but someone grabbed the inhaler from her hand. Next to her, Duke grabbed the top of the chest-high fence and vaulted over, his feet already moving when he landed.

Duke streaked across the diamond to the boy, reaching him before the coaches did.

Gabriela, behind her, shouted at a 911 operator on the phone.

Angel was stuck, unable to help, unable to get to her baby, until something broke inside of her. A fog cleared. She ran to the side entrance of the closest dugout, pushed through the milling group of anxious boys, and popped onto the field. There were sirens wailing in the distance.

By the time she reached the cluster of people around Jose, she could see he was struggling, turning blue around his lips. He was conscious, but his breath came in short, hard gasps, no air coming out, his hands scrabbling at his throat. Duke, kneeling beside him, a hand under his head, held up the inhaler. “I gave it to him. It’s not doing anything.”

The ambulance screeched up to the edge of the field. They were more than a football field of distance away, stopped behind a gate not wide enough to drive through. She saw Duke notice the EMTs in the distance, look at Jose, and then look at her.

“Yes! Go!” she shouted.

Duke gathered the seven-year-old in his arms and took off at a dead sprint, his long legs flying.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” she cried out, sparks of terror coming from her as she raced after them. She had no idea if she was cursing or praying, maybe both, watching Duke and her dying boy pull farther and farther away.

Chapter Twenty-two

“You’re not allowed—”

Angel shoved the much-larger EMT aside. “You’ll have to arrest me.”

She jumped up into the ambulance, beside another EMT, who was securing Jose’s stretcher to the wall. To him she said, “I’m a nurse. I won’t get in your way.”

The young bearded man reset the oxygen mask over Jose’s small face and then cast his attention to the woman behind the wheel. The driver was obviously the boss, despite her spiky blue hair and tattooed neck.

Angel put a hand on Jose’s thigh, squeezing, wishing he’d open his eyes. His face was white, his lips blue. “I’m here, baby.” To the driver, she said with icy steel, “I’m not getting off. Let’s go.”

The driver sighed and nodded back to the EMT, saying, “Okay, lady, but you strap yourself in.”

The alert on Jose bleated. He was crashing.