“What’s wrong with her?” Cass screamed.
Sam eased Jen gently to the elevator floor so he could check her airway, breathing and circulation. The ABCs of his first responder course spiraled through his mind like a CD on replay. “Jake, help me.” He was the firefighter. He knew what to do. Jake knelt beside him, Tommy clinging to his neck.
The elevator doors opened.
“Gran—” Tommy squealed and lunged for his grandparents, who were standing at the door waiting to board.
Sam’s mom quickly overcame her surprise at the sight of the slumped woman and wrapped Tommy in her arms.
“We’ve got to get this woman to sick bay,” Jake said. “We’ll meet you at the buffet when we can or back at the room.”
“What deck is sick bay?” Sam asked the ship employee standing in front of the elevator panel.
“Oh, uh, Deck Five, Plaza,” he said in a thick Eastern European accent.
“Well, hit it, will you?”
The man did as he was told, but the elevator stopped at the next deck down. “Excuse me. I get off here.”
Cass lunged at the control panel and slapped the five again. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Her respiration is good. Pulse is rapid,” Jake said. “Does she have any medical conditions or allergies?”
“No, not that I know of.”
The elevator doors opened on the fifth floor and Sam swept Jen into his arms. She was impossibly light, as if a strong nor’easter could sweep her off the deck. His chest crunched at the unwelcome image.
“Which way to sick bay?” he asked the startled passengers waiting to board the elevator.
“Deck Four—Gala, one down—turn left,” a woman spoke up.
Cass slapped the 4 button. “How could a ship employee not know where sick bay is? He told us five.”
A few seconds later the doors pulled open again, and Sam charged left with Jen in his arms, Cassandra and Jake following.
A middle-aged woman in green scrubs directed him to lay her down on a bed, then she immediately checked Jen’s vitals as they relayed what they knew.
The nurse pulled on reading glasses and jotted down Jen’s blood pressure reading. “What has she had to eat or drink in the past three hours?”
Cassandra perched on a chair beside the bed and clutched Jen’s hand. “Nothing that I know of.” Black tears streamed down her cheeks. “We were on our way to supper.”
“She had a glass of something a bit ago,” Sam interjected. “I didn’t see what.”
The nurse eyed him suspiciously as she felt Jen’s glands. Not that he blamed her. He was kicking himself for not intervening when he saw that waiter press a drink on Jen that she didn’t seem to want.
The nurse’s expression changed. She swept back Jen’s hair and pulled off the seasickness patch. “Not sure if this is a contributing factor to her blacking out. But we’ve seen a number of negative reactions to these.”
Cass gasped. “Is she going to be okay?”
The nurse patted Cass’s shoulder. “Her respiration is a bit slow, but her vitals are good. We’ll continue to monitor her until she comes to, unless you’d prefer we evacuate her to a hospital immediately.”
“Do you think we should?”
“The doctor will be here shortly. Let’s wait to see what he thinks.”
“But that’s what you think it is?” Sam asked. “Just the seasickness patch?”
“Did she take any recreational drugs? Alcohol?” The nurse’s gaze narrowed in on Cass. “It’s important you tell me everything so we can provide the best care to... This is your sister, right?”
“Yes. She doesn’t do drugs.” Fresh tears streamed down Cass’s cheeks. “Or drink.” Cass swiped at her damp face. “This is all my fault. She didn’t even want to come on the cruise.”
Jake rubbed Cass’s back. “It’s not your fault. She’s going to be okay.”
The nurse turned her attention to Sam. “You said she had a drink. What was it? Did she leave it unattended?”
“Can we speak outside a minute?” He cupped her elbow and steered her firmly out of the room. Once the door was closed he asked, “You think someone put a roofie in her drink?”
The nurse looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “And how do you know about Rohypnol?”
“C’mon, you just went through the list of what every woman shouldn’t do if she doesn’t want her drink spiked with a date rape drug.”
Jake appeared at the doorway, listening in.
The nurse shrugged. “I can’t verify it without a urine sample.”
“But the symptoms fit?” His heart went back to racing a mile a minute. “Even if she only had the drink ten minutes before she passed out?” Sam knew why the nurse was being cagey. She wasn’t at liberty to discuss a person’s medical condition with a nonrelative. But if he was going to catch whoever did this to Jen, he needed answers.
The nurse perched her reading glasses on her head. “Depending on the dose, roofies can take effect within minutes. Symptoms typically peak at two hours.”
“How long before she wakes up?”
The nurse hesitated.
“How long is a patient typically out?” he rephrased impatiently.
“A few hours, at least.” She glanced toward a couple of other occupied rooms and lowered her voice. “If you think she ingested the stuff less than an hour ago, the doctor will give her activated charcoal. It’ll soak up the drug from her stomach and intestinal tract.”
Sam inhaled. “And if I’m wrong?”
“If it’s been longer than an hour since ingestion, or we’re wrong about the substance, it’ll be pretty useless, but it won’t hurt.”
“Good. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can track down the source.” He turned to Jake, still standing at the door to Jen’s room. “You mind staying with them?”
“No problem. You go on.”
Sam raced up the three flights to the lounge where Jen was given the drink. A balding, forty-something Caucasian man staffed the bar. The waitstaff was all female.
Sam stepped up to the bar.
“What can I get you?” the barkeep asked.
“I’m looking for the
