and down. “Are you hurt?” she asked bluntly.
“No.”
“Then who is?”
“No one exactly,” Beth said, waving her hand in a vague gesture. “I was speaking hypothetically.”
“I see.” Anne raised her white brows questioningly. “And is this hypothetical gash infected? Does it need stitches?”
“I’m not sure—that is, I wouldn’t think so.” Good grief, Beth thought. She hoped not. “How would a person tell?”
“It needs stitches if that’s the best or only way to stop the bleeding.”
Beth gnawed on her lower lip, unsure if the merman’s wound had still been bleeding or not. “And if the bleeding has stopped?” she finally asked, hoping for the best.
“Then I’d possibly still administer antibiotics—and a tetanus shot wouldn’t hurt either.”
Beth nodded. Antibiotics in a pill form might be possible to get the merman to eat, but stitches or a tetanus shot had her stumped. She’d administered shots dozens of times at the children’s care facility where Anne had persuaded her to donate time while in college, but giving one to the merman, well, good luck with that.
She was pondering the problem, when Anne interrupted her thoughts.
“Someone should stay with him until he wakes up.” Anne snapped her medical kit shut with a decisive click, then looked back down at Ralph, who’d begun snoring loudly. “And I need to get back to your father.”
Beth nodded. “I’ll stay. Just give me a minute to change. Oh, and Anne— You won’t mention anything to Dad or the captain about Ralph’s accident, will you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” the nurse told her. “Frankly, I don’t see a need to get Carl all worked up over it when Ralph will be just fine, and the captain isn’t too fond of the young man as it is. He’ll probably find a way to hold this against him for some reason.”
“Thanks.” Beth gave her a grateful smile, then left the room. She’d go change her clothes—their clammy dampness was becoming more uncomfortable by the second—then she’d talk to the Delanos, she decided. They could take care of the merman, while she stayed with Ralph.
It was a good plan. Except the Delanos wouldn’t have any part of it.
“The pump and filtering device run just fine on their own. We’re not going near that fish freak again,” Dougie told her, spitting on the deck to emphasize his decision. Big Mike did, too, then smiled at her, his head bobbing in benign agreement with his brother’s decree.
“Who knows when he’ll grab one of us? We take our orders from Lesborn, not your father—or you,” Dougie added, “and since Lesborn’s out of commission…” He shrugged.
Beth looked from one to the other, seeing the fear beneath the sullen determination on Dougie’s face and the bewilderment on Big Mike’s. She straightened her shoulders. “Fine. You two take care of Ralph,” she said decisively. “I’ll take care of the merman.”
Night had fallen by the time Beth returned to the hold. She’d settled the grumbling Delanos in with Ralph—ignoring Anne’s look of surprise—then changed into a dress and had dinner as usual with her father, whose joyful expression and expansive plans about his “fantastic find” assured her he had no idea at all of what had transpired that day.
But as soon as the meal was finished, she slipped away, changing once again—this time into black shorts and a gray shirt. The dark clothing would help serve as camouflage, she thought, to prevent anyone noticing her going into the hold at such an unusual hour. And indeed, no one appeared to notice her as she hurried across the deck to the door.
After she unlocked it, she glanced carefully around, then slipped into the room, letting the door close quietly behind her. She paused, taking the time to twist the lock from inside. No way did she want anyone to come in unexpectedly and discover the merman. She had enough to worry about without that.
She started down the stairs, keeping a steadying hand on the railing. The room was darker, more shadowy, than it had been earlier. Only a dark patch of sky was visible through the porthole. The lights along the wall were still on, though, and the powerful filtering pump hummed steadily. With all the uproar over Ralph, neither she nor the Delanos had remembered to dim the lights before leaving the room, Beth realized. They’d all been too upset—and just plain frightened.
She shuddered, remembering Ralph struggling in the merman’s grip. Clutching the bag of medical supplies she’d “borrowed” from Anne a little tighter, she pushed the memory away and forced herself to continue her descent. Halfway down the staircase, she paused to look over at the tank. For once, the merman wasn’t swimming around. For a few seconds, she couldn’t even see him. He had to be in there somewhere, of course, but the surface of the water stirred gently, creating liquid shadows that made it hard to see.
Then she spotted him, lying with his forearms resting on the platform, the human half of his body lifted out of the water. His head lay on his arms, his face hidden in the crook of his elbow.
Beth’s heart skipped a beat. Was he asleep? Unconscious? she wondered, as she hurried down the rest of the stairs. Surely he wasn’t dead? Anxiety quickened her stride as she headed across the room toward the platform. He didn’t move as she climbed the wooden steps, but as soon as she stepped out onto the structure, he lifted his head.
Relief flowed through her. No, not dead, not even unconscious. But definitely hurting. For a split second—before he’d assumed his usual expressionless mask—she’d swear she’d glimpsed suffering in those dark-blue eyes.
“You poor thing,” she said involuntarily. She started toward him—then stopped in midstep as his lip curled, revealing excellent white teeth.
Beth remained frozen in place, uncertain what to do as he continued to watch her unblinkingly. She needed to get closer, to see to his shoulder. But she couldn’t get her feet to move. From across the room, he’d looked formidable. Up close he was totally intimidating.
For one thing he appeared much larger than he had in the water. Nor, in spite of the hints of pain on his face, did he appear at all weak and helpless. Lying with his arms and torso propped on the wood made his shoulders appear broader, his brown chest deeper than Johnny Weissmuller’s in the old Tarzan movies Anne so enjoyed.
But what really made Beth nervous was that unblinking gaze. Something in his unreadable, narrow-eyed stare made her pulse beat faster, kept her rooted in place like a person afraid of being bitten by a dangerous dog. Not that she’d ever had any contact with dogs—well, except for a puppy she’d played with once when The Searcher had anchored for a time near Catalina island. Nor was she exactly worried about being bitten—although the merman’s teeth did look extraordinarily white and strong. No, she was much more concerned about being dragged into the water as he’d done to Ralph.
She couldn’t forget how easily he’d held Ralph, or the strength it must have taken to throw the man—who had to weigh at least two hundred pounds—back up on the platform.
She took a deep breath trying to calm her racing pulse. The point to remember here was that he had thrown Ralph back, she reminded herself. He’d released him. If the merman was truly, knowingly vicious, then surely he wouldn’t have
