Chapter 4
Four
Doctor Brendan Kilbride was an impressive man.
The ship’s hospital was equally impressive, offering four private rooms and even an operating room. Most of the major tests
done at the hospital could be done right on the ship as could minor or life-saving surgeries.
The doctor had two highly efficient nurses at his side, and standing in the waiting room, Wes—still dripping with an equally
wet Chloe at his side—learned that there was always a second doctor on board, as well. His name was Dr. George Lincoln and
while he was much younger, just having finished his residency at Tisch Hospital in New York, according to the equally young
Billy Cliffton, the doctor had been top of his class all throughout medical school and been offered jobs across the country
and beyond.
Normally, of course, they’d have been asked to leave since they were sopping wet, but they were apparently celebrities now
that they’d been part of the overboard rescue.
That they were noticed didn’t thrill Wes in the least. They were supposed to blend in with the crowd!
“We saved a life,” Chloe said quietly to him. “And it’s no shock that a man who runs a dive boat might have been a lifeguard
at some time in his life. And, Wes! Remember. Our first priority, always, is to save lives!”
He nodded; he knew that he wasn’t pleased with being noted—not that she hadn’t been, as well. Just the dive off the ship was
impressive and she had been the one to draw Edward Thompson to the surface.
“I’m okay with this,” she said softly. “You must be, too. We had no other choice.”
But what if the man was the killer they’d been seeking?
They didn’t know that.
And it was more than possible that he’d been helped in his “fall” overboard.
Dr. Kilbride emerged from the room where he’d been examining the patient and giving orders to his nurses.
“We got him out of his wet clothing quickly and he’s receiving warm intravenous fluids,” Kilbride informed. He was studying
the two of them. “The man was lucky you knew what you were doing with CPR,” he told Wes.
Wes shrugged. “Who knew that needing a job in college could really pay off for me,” he said. “I’m just grateful—”
“I’m grateful that you’re the one who reached him. Our people have had training, but we’ve never had a passenger go overboard
before. I like to believe that he would have been fine, but . . .”
The doctor was a tall man with mid-length silver hair, dark brown eyes and a serious demeanor. “Young lady, you might well
have found him before he floated back to the surface, deprived of oxygen too long. You’re heroes!”
Chloe shook her head. “Just good swimmers, Doctor, and I thought at one time that I might want to head to the Olympics as a diver, so . . . As my husband said, we’re just grateful that we were able to be useful and that Mr. Thompson is alive!”
“And you two now need to worry about your own health. I would say that showers are in order for you,” he told them.
“Is it possible to speak with Mr. Thompson?” Wes asked.
“He’s out right now. I’d like to let him stay out for a bit, time for his body to warm up completely,” Doctor Kilbride said.
“I know he’ll want to speak with you.” He grimaced. “I’ve only one case of seasickness in here now, so I can promise you,
I won’t leave him until he is awake and talking and well on the way to full recovery. He’s got a few good scrapes on him,
but luckily, he didn’t break any bones. A few days in here under observation and I believe he’ll be able to rejoin the cruise,
though I’m going to suggest that he take it easy and enjoy the lounge chairs when I do release him. Return to your cabin.
I’ll call as soon as you can see him.”
Wes and Chloe thanked him and left the infirmary. As they passed other passengers, they were applauded and congratulated by
many of them, and he tried hard to accept all the words of praise with courtesy and the humility needed to try to remain just
a regular someone among them all. Chloe was good at it, saying she had surprised herself, but that she just instinctively
followed her husband. She and Wes spent their lives on boats and in the water and when her husband had jumped in . . . Well,
once upon a time she had competed in diving and, surely, they were just lucky to reach the man first; the ship’s crew would
have been fine without them.
When they reached the room at last, Wes groaned aloud. He almost threw himself down on the couch, but remembered he was soaking
wet.
“You can take the first shower,” Chloe told him.
He shook his head. “You go ahead. I know you’re fast. I’m still mentally kicking myself over what just happened.”
“Well, stop that fight!” she said sternly. “Wes, he wasn’t breathing when I dragged him up! If you hadn’t known what you were
doing—”
“The crew is trained.”
“Trained, yes. Not tested in a real emergency. And not that they wouldn’t have been okay, and there definitely could be an
emergency they get to be the heroes for one day, but . . . I’m going to shut up and take my shower so that you can have it!”
She disappeared into the bedroom area of their salon for a brief minute, grabbing clean clothing.
Then she got into the shower.
Just as she left, another thought sprang into his mind.
What if he had been pushed? What if someone on the ship was determined on finishing the job? Was he going to be safe in the
ship’s hospital?
His burner phone had been in his pocket; he drew it out, amazed to see that it was still working. Then again, Alonzo wouldn’t
have sent them out without the best available equipment.
He called the contact in his phone listed as “Uncle Joe.”
Alonzo answered. “Joe here.”
Always prepared. Making sure that it was Wes calling him, that the phone hadn’t been taken, and that he wouldn’t be known
as who he really was.
Wes quickly described what had happened—and his fear for Edward Thompson now.
“No problem. I’ll take care of it,” Alonzo promised.
“It’s already been picked up by the media—that a man fell from a cruise ship.
Apparently, from chatter, there was a massive school of dolphins frolicking near the ship, too, and that caused people to lean over the rails and press into one another. ”
“Sir, how—”
“Like I said, news travels fast. No secrets—it’s all over the internet. We’re lucky that with everything going on, none of
the passengers got good shots of you or Chloe. I asked you both to change it up a bit in case you did wind up in family photos
and there was the odd chance you’d be recognized as who you really are and what you do, but . . . Anyway, I guess it was such
a zoo at the time and the distance from the ship’s decks to the water was enough to pretty much show nothing but the tops
of your heads in anything that our tech crews have been able to find. My point—the world knows what happened. It will be easy
to see to it that Milestones gets a nurse of their own out there to watch over Thompson.”
“Okay, but—”
“It will be George Garcia, who is a registered nurse practitioner—but also with one of our legat offices.”
“Ah. Okay, thanks. I don’t think that I could have figured out a reason for Chloe and me to be in there at all times.”
“You think he was pushed.”
“I do.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Alonzo ended the call. Perfect timing.
Chloe emerged from the bathroom towel-drying her hair. He frowned, noting that the towel had dark stains on it.
“Ah, come on. Obviously, black dye. And no matter how good, it comes off a bit,” she told him.
He grinned. “So, what color is your hair really?”
“Like a light reddish-brown,” she told him.
“Well, the black does enhance your eyes. Man, they are green!” he told her.
She laughed. “Good! Glad it all matches.” She frowned, looking at him. “And what about you?”
“Alonzo told me to change it up, too. I’d had a beard—well-trimmed, of course, kind of, at least. Now I’m clean-shaven and
the opposite—and my hair is usually very dark.”
“And with any luck, neither of us will have roots showing during the time we’re here,” Chloe said. She wrinkled her face.
“Not a fan of beards, anyway.”
“So sorry!” he said dryly. “Anyway, what’s important. Alonzo is getting a nurse on board who will be arranged by Milestones—with
direction from the assistant director himself. We won’t need to worry about keeping watch over Edward Thompson hour after
hour.”
“Or worry that someone will stick something else into his IV,” Chloe murmured. “We agree that we think he was pushed?”
“I think it’s more than possible. But . . .”
The cabin phone was ringing. Wes answered it quickly, nodding to her. Doctor Kilbride had seen that one of his nurses had
called to tell them that Edward Thompson was ready to speak with them, anxious to do so, wanting to thank them.
“Two minutes!” he told Chloe.
Grabbing clothing, he hurried into the shower, and as soon as he was out, they headed to the ship’s hospital.
Again, he somewhat marveled that a ship’s infirmary could be so complete, spacious—and ready for just about anything. Then
again, he supposed that was the kind of thing that came along with a luxury cruise.
They were led in quickly to see Edward Thompson. The man was covered in a blanket and an IV was still sticking out of one
arm.
“You two! My heroes, I understand. Thank you very much. So much! I want you to know that anything that Milestones can do for you, we will do!” he vowed passionately.
“We’re just so grateful to see you looking alive and well!” Chloe told him, standing by the bed and squeezing his hand.
“And I made you—and tons of people in all the fear and excitement—miss classes they want to attend. But the people onboard
here are great—they’ll just reschedule anything that was missed,” Edward said.
“Again, nothing compared to you, sir,” Wes said politely. “What happened?” he asked, as if perplexed. “Despite the decks,
the railings are pretty high. It’s not as easy as one might think to just fall off a ship.”