by Laura Moore
“Yeah, I remember. I wanted to pummel the son of a bitch. Now I want to kill him.” His rage was such that Sean thought he probably could, too. “But I just can’t believe Granger would do this out of petty revenge, Karen. He’s too goddamned lazy. No,” he said with growing conviction. “Somebody put him up to it—someone with a hell of a lot more initiative than Granger.”
May Ellen pressed a crumpled handkerchief to her eyes. “Poor Lily. I never imagined she would be risking her life by coming back and finishing the study. How I wish that Dr. Lesnesky hadn’t gotten sick—”
“My God!” Sean breathed. “That’s it! Lesnesky. His report didn’t show any evidence of disease, which, in light of recent events, is just too damn hard to believe. I’m willing to bet his study was fixed from the very start—” Sean stopped in midsentence. A white-coated doctor was coming toward them. He sprang to his feet.
The anxious group had gathered around the attending physician, Dr. Paul Shumacher. Kaye had introduced herself and then asked the doctor if he could give them any news.
“At the moment, Mrs. Alcott, your daughter is still unconscious. We’ve administered an antivenom shot, but it will take some time for the antidote to take effect.” He paused, his expression grave. “Dr. Banyon’s system has been severely weakened. You see, in addition to having to fight the venom from the stingray, Dr. Banyon also ingested a significant amount of water when she lost consciousness—any more, and, frankly, her chances would have been slim indeed.”
Kaye blanched. Blindly, she reached for Sean’s arm, clutching it for support.
“The next twenty-four hours will tell us a lot,” the doctor informed them. “We’ll have to monitor her carefully, in case she develops an infection or, worse still, pneumonia. I must tell you, Mrs. Alcott, your daughter’s a very lucky woman. She’s extremely athletic, I assume?”
Kaye nodded mutely.
“That fact may very well have saved her life. Her heart rate is unusually slow. Which means the stingray’s venom didn’t circulate as quickly as it might have in another, less fit, individual. She’s lucky in another respect, too.” Dr. Shumacher looked at Karen and smiled. “The doctor who examined you in the emergency room told me that you attempted to restrain Dr. Banyon on your ascent. If not for your clear-headedness, she probably would have suffered an embolism.”
Karen’s lips trembled. “Thank you, Doctor.” Overcome by emotion, she turned her head into Dave’s shoulder.
“What would you say Lily’s chances are, Dr. Shumacher?” Sean asked, and knew he’d never been so scared of an answer in his life.
“I’m guardedly optimistic. If the antivenom works quickly enough, her body should be strong enough to stave off an infection. In that case, I see no reason for her not to make a complete recovery.”
Sean’s knees went rubbery with relief. “When can we see her?”
The doctor checked his watch. “They should be bringing her up to her room now. I expect you’ll be able to see her shortly. I’ll have a nurse come down when they’re ready.”
Despite the doctor’s prognosis that Lily would be all right, Sean’s anger flared each time he thought of how badly she had been hurt. How close he’d come to losing her.
Restless with impatience to see Lily, and to exact vengeance on her behalf, he began to pace. “I’m not going to let whoever is behind this thing get away with hurting Lily. Karen, you said she managed to get new samples when you were out on the reef?”
From her seat beside Dave, Karen nodded. “And I got pictures, too.”
Sean’s mind raced. “Okay, this is what I need you and Dave to do. Dave, you’ve got to make sure Owen Rafern doesn’t breathe a word about what happened today on the Tangiers—I don’t want anyone else to know that Lily actually succeeded in collecting new evidence.”
“Sure thing, Sean,” Dave replied.
His mind racing, Sean continued, “Karen, can you telephone Simone Devaux and tell her what’s happened?”
“Yeah, I bet she’s worried—she and Lily spoke earlier today, so she already knows something’s screwy.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Tell her we need her to analyze the new samples immediately. Come to think of it, I want to talk to her, too. Let’s call her from here. Then, tomorrow morning you and Dave are going to pack up the samples and ship them express to the center.” He broke off and his feet slowed. “I know all this is a lot to ask, after what you’ve been through—”
“Stop right there, Sean. We’ll get the samples shipped.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks, Karen. The fewer people involved, the better. The only way we can win this is to lull whoever is behind the scheme into a false sense of security. The word is bound to get out that there was an accident on the reef, but most people will assume the conditions were too rough to collect samples or to take photos.”
“Should I send my film when I ship the samples?” Karen asked.
“The lab you use is in New York?”
“That’s right. Duggal Photo, in Chelsea. Best lab in the country.”
“If you’ll trust me with it, I’d like to hand deliver your film. And while I’m in New York, I’ll go pay a visit to someone I need to have a little talk with.”
Dave regarded him assessingly. “So Lesnesky’s still at Sloan-Kettering?”
“That’s right.” Sean’s expression hardened. “I’ll let him confess before he goes to hell.”
“What can Mother and I do to help, Sean?” Kaye asked.
“The most important job of all. You’re going to take care of Lily. As soon as the doctors say she can leave, I want you to bring her home to May’s, and keep her there. I won’t leave for New York until I’m sure she’s out of danger, but that means I may still be gone when she’s released. It’ll be a big load off my mind if I know she’s safe with you. But Kaye, don’t you or May Ellen let her know where I’ve gone, or why.”
May Ellen frowned. “Why ever not, Sean?”
“Because I have no idea how Lesnesky will react when I accuse him of having manipulated the reef study. He could very well deny everything,” Sean explained. “I don’t want to give Lily false hope. She’s been through enough. Karen, can you help move her belongings out of Ferrucci’s?”
“I’ll be delighted. That place was giving me the creeps.”
“You can pack your own things while you’re at it,” Dave said, taking her hand in his. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
A single light illuminated the hospital room. Sean sat in the chair he’d pulled close to Lily’s bed and stroked her outstretched arm, taking care to avoid the thin plastic IV tube taped to her forearm. The skin he lightly caressed was warm again. Her color, too, had improved. The signs gave Sean hope, and he clung to them.
He hadn’t moved for the last hour since the others had left. Kaye would return first thing in the morning. Sean had shamelessly used his clout as mayor to stay past regular visiting hours. He couldn’t bear the thought of Lily being alone while she was unconscious.
His voice was sandpaper-rough from exhaustion. He’d been talking, trying to reach Lily and lead her out of the night inside her. Rambling, he’d talked of everything, how much he loved her, how brave she was, how he dreamed of their future together.
When his voice gave out, he clasped her hand in his, entwining their fingers. He lowered his head to kiss the curve of her shoulder. Too tired to move, he let it rest there, and succumbed to sleep.
He awoke later, his hand still holding hers. He stretched to ease the stiffness in his back, and his arm jarred hers a fraction.
Lily’s eyelids fluttered.
Elation flooded him. Bending closer, Sean touched his trembling lips to the corner of her mouth. “Wake up, Lily. Wake up and let me see your beautiful eyes.”
Though her lids quivered, they remained shut as if weighted down, a burden too heavy to lift. But when Sean felt her fingers tighten ever so slightly around his, he wanted
to dance, to shout with triumph. “I’m here, Lily. Everything will be okay,” he whispered. “Sleep, my love. You’ll see me in the morning.”
Lily’s dreams were hazy. She thought that she dreamed of Sean, but he was far, far away. She heard only his voice, yet it was as elusive as he. Though she tried, she didn’t have the strength to reach him. She gave a silent cry.
Then a soft breath stole over her, lulling and soothing. Sleep, my love.
The sound of the nurse entering the room with a steel trolley in tow woke Sean. He sat back in the chair groggily while she bustled about the room, her white crepe-soled shoes making little squeaking noises on the linoleum.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “And how’s our patient?” she asked, replacing Lily’s IV drip with lightning-fast efficiency.
“Good morning,” Sean replied, and spared her a brief smile before fixing his attention on Lily. He gave the hand he’d been holding all night a gentle squeeze. “Lily, it’s morning. Open your eyes for me. I know you can do it. Look at me, Lily. Lily, I need you so—”
“Sean?” The word was scarcely a whisper.
Thank God. “That’s right, sweetheart. It’s me, Sean.” His voice shook.
Turning her head toward the sound of his voice, Lily slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, her blue eyes cloudy and disoriented, and . . . so wonderfully alive. His own eyes blurred then, with hot tears of joy that she was alive, breathing, and staring up at him.
“What happened?” she croaked weakly. Her eyes widened in sudden alarm. “The ray . . . Karen—”
“Shh, love, don’t worry. Everything’s fine. You’re going to be fine. The stingray stung you. But you’re going to be all right. You are incredibly brave and strong.”
“Karen . . .”
“Karen’s fine,” he reassured her. “She’ll be here later. You’re in the hospital. This nice nurse,” he paused, and glanced at the name tag pinned to the older woman’s uniform, “Nurse Peters wants to take a look at you.”
“Don’t—”
“No, I won’t leave you, Lily.”
Lily’s hospital room became a hive of activity. With her return to consciousness, nurses and doctors filed in and out, each taking a turn at examining her and checking this or that. A short time later, Kaye swept in with an enormous bouquet of flowers. Seeing an exhausted but awake Lily, Kaye all but melted in a cascade of tears. When at last she’d calmed, she told Lily that her half brothers, Ned and Mike, had arrived this morning and were eager to see her. Scott Alcott would be by later, too, with May Ellen.
Kaye’s announcement gave Sean a bittersweet pang. On the one hand, he was happy that Lily would soon have her entire family caring for her. He knew, too, that her friends were literally flying to her side. Simone Devaux, Lily’s boss at the Marine Center, would be coming in from Boston as soon as she had the results from the water and core samples. Yet on the other hand, the arrival of these others told Sean that the time had come for him to go.
He hated the thought of being apart from her, but Sean told himself that the best way for him to help Lily right now was to fly to New York and confront Abe Lesnesky. He would wait, though, for Kaye to return. She’d gone down to the cafeteria to buy Sean and herself some much-needed coffee.
Her strength already taxed, Lily was drifting in and out of sleep, her eyes closing for longer and longer periods. When Sean’s cell buzzed in his jacket pocket, she barely stirred.
“Yes,” he answered, his voice pitched low so as not to disturb her.
“Sean, it’s me.”
“Hi, Evelyn, I was just about to call you.”
“How’s Dr. Banyon?”
Sean smiled at Lily’s pale sleeping face. “Alert and on the mend. Though she’s dozing now.”
“That’s wonderful. Please give her my best. I’ll come by later this afternoon.” Evelyn paused. The silence stretched long enough that he knew that whatever she was about to say, it was bad. “Sean, have you seen the morning paper?”
“ ’Fraid not. I haven’t left the hospital since I got here.”
“The TV news?”
“No.” Wearily he rubbed his unshaven cheek. “What’s up?”
“Well, you’re the lead story everywhere.”
“I don’t suppose they’re talking about how I successfully renegotiated the contract with the sanitation workers’ union?”
“A little more dramatic. The front page of the newspaper has a photograph of you and Dr. Banyon, as well as a rather damning article. The TV’s picked them both up and has added a twist of its own—a five-second clip of a reporter asking you about a harassment charge, and you shoving him to the ground. I’ve seen it four times already this morning. The best spin I can put on it is that you are extremely photogenic. . . .”
“What in hell are they talking about? Who’s accusing me of harassment?“
“The newspaper has a quote from Dr. Banyon.”
He cursed, abruptly realizing what this was all about. Someone must have heard their fight at Norma Jean’s and run to the press with the story. He ground the heel of his hand against his eye.
“Sean, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“What do you want to do about the press?” Evelyn asked.
“Not a damn thing,” he replied at last. Rising from the chair, he walked to the window and stared blindly at the still-empty parking lot. “I’ve got better things to worry about right now. Lily’s been hurt and I’m responsible—”
“Sean, you can’t—”
“No, listen to me, Evelyn,” he said quietly, distinctly. “Lily nearly died out on that reef, doing a job for this town. Whoever set her up is going to pay. That’s a hell of a lot more important to me than whatever the press is saying.”
Over the line Sean heard her sigh of acquiescence. “Hey, cheer up,” he said. “Maybe Coral Beach’s next mayor won’t bug you to make espresso every other minute.”
The joke fell flat, without a single chuckle from Evelyn. “Okay, here’s what I need you to do. First, get me on the next flight to New York. Then call Simone Devaux at the Marine Center. Give her my arrival time so she can let George Hunt know. Give her my cell number, too. I’ll drop Karen’s film off then head uptown to the hospital where Lesnesky’s being treated. I want Hunt there when I talk to Lesnesky.”
“You think Hunt will convince him to admit that he fixed the study?”
“Yeah. I’m hoping that he can appeal to whatever dregs of professional integrity remain in Lesnesky.”
“And what do you want me to say to the reporters? This is serious, Sean. They smell blood.”
“Stonewall them. And don’t tell anyone where I’ve gone. Call me back when you’ve got the flight information.”
Sean hung up just as Kaye entered the room, two steaming coffees in hand, a newspaper tucked under her arm, and a stricken look on her face.
Sean eyed the folded paper. “That bad, huh?”
Kaye nodded tightly, her lips pursed with worry. “I was so distracted last night. And then this morning, I was trying to find a florist that opened early—Sean, have you seen it?” she asked, setting the coffee on Lily’s bedside tray. Checking that Lily was still asleep, she handed him the paper. “Here, look for yourself.”
Sean opened the folded newspaper. The photograph was front and center, positioned just below a headline, which screamed, Mayor Accused of Harassment! Though grainy, Lily’s wheat blond hair was instantly recognizable.
The photographer must have taken the shot yesterday, Sean fumed, when he’d dropped Lily off at the condominium. His arms were about her, their mouths fused in a kiss that in no way could be described as platonic.
The edges of the newspaper crumpled as his hands tightened into fists. He wished only that his hands were around the neck of the bastard paparazzi who’d spied on him and Lily with a telephoto lens. It sickened and infuriated him to think some creep had been sneaking around watching his and Lily’s every move . . . the
ir lovemaking.
“How could they do this?” Kaye cried. “I thought the Courier was a responsible newspaper! There’s an article, too. Sean—”
“I’ve seen enough,” he ground out, handing the paper back. “Get rid of this thing, Kaye. I don’t want Lily to know about this—it’ll only hurt her more. And keep the TV off, too. They’re apparently running a clip about us on the local news.”
“Sean, you can’t keep this from her forever,” Kaye said.
Sean’s gaze went to Lily lying in the hospital bed. Dark violet circles shadowed her closed eyes. “I know, but we can keep it under wraps at least until she feels better. I’ll deal with the press when I get back from New York.”
Lips pursed, Kaye shook her head but gave him no argument.
“Thanks, Kaye, and take good care of her.” Sean went to the side of Lily’s bed and kneeled so his face was inches from hers. He reached forward and cupped the side of her face. “Lily,” he whispered gently.
Her eyes opened and slowly focused.
He smiled sadly, wishing he didn’t have to leave her. “Lily, I’ve got to go. An emergency meeting’s been called. But I’ll be back very soon. You rest and get better, love,” he said, brushing her forehead with his lips.
Too weak to protest, too weak to follow, Lily watched Sean depart, her eyes swimming with silent tears.
The procession marking Lily’s release from the hospital three days later was led by Lily’s stepfather, Scott Alcott. He walked slowly, struggling to see past the overflowing mass of flowers he held in his arms, which had transformed Lily’s sterile hospital room into a sweetly scented hothouse. The majority of the bouquets had come with a card signed, Sean.
More slowly still came Lily and her grandmother. May Ellen’s hand was under Lily’s elbow, offering support. Lily’s teeth were clamped tight, her nostrils flaring in sync with each laborious step she took.
She hated this debilitating weakness. After five minutes of walking, her legs were wobbling like a drunken sailor’s, the muscles in them having turned to jelly back at the reception desk in the middle of the lobby. At this point, pride alone was keeping her moving . . . and the fear that if she fell, Granny May would come tumbling down with her.