I answer. “Carter, Dray and I are with Michelle, and Benchley, at their home. You’re on speakerphone.” That means, hopefully, he’ll remember to watch what he says.
He sounds choked up. “They’re flying us to the capital city in Brunei, then driving us to the nearby port where the boat’s going to dock, unless the boat gets there first and they take them to the hospital. If so, they’ll take us straight there. It’s…it’sher. I’msureit’s her. They showed me a crappy cell phone pic the boat’s crew sent, but it’sher.”
“Where the fuck is Brunei?” Benchley asks.
“Borneo.” We hear a ragged laugh. “Therewillbe shipwreck jokes later, once we get her home. FuckingBorneo.”
I want to drop to my knees inDevotion.
I want to start sobbing with relief.
I settle for closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead with my left hand, my phone tightly clutched in my right. “Connie?” I ask, because we need to know.
We already know about Mike.
“I don’t know,” he says. “The crew told authorities two women, but the picture I saw only showed her. I guess there are a lot of typhoons in the area and their connection isn’t good. The military doesn’t want to risk picking them with a chopper and getting them hurt. It’s a huge commercial fishing vessel, not some little dive boat, so they didn’t want to risk trying to transfer them to a military vessel. They dropped two medics and medical supplies by helo to the fishing vessel. They’re dehydrated and starving, but they’re alive. I don’t know anything beyond that.”
Thank god for Dray. When Benchley’s knees give out, he’s there, helping get him into a chair.
I’m damn sure not worth any help. I’d been standing there with my eyes closed. Dray’s already got him by the time I register Michelle’s panicked gasp when Benchley starts to collapse.
“What happened?” Carter asks.
“Benchley’s not—”
“I’mfine!” the man barks. “Don’t youdarefucking call 911.” He jabs his finger at Dray, who already has his phone out. “I want to be on a fucking planerightnow!”
“Staythere,” Carter says, sounding stern. “I need to let doctors evaluate her first. If you want to be helpful, find methebest hospital close to where she will be. Do I let them take her to Manila, or get her stabilized and fly her to Honolulu, or back to Singapore, or Australia, or where? I don’t know anything about this region. If youreallywant to help her, findthatout for me.”
Dray’s now tapping info into his phone. “Brunei?” he asks.
“Indonesia region, yeah. These fuckers are going to pay for whatever it takes to transport her, so I don’t care where it is as long as it’s reasonably close.”
“Fly her back here to fuckingFlorida, Carter,” Benchley orders.
“Well, obviously. But if she needs to spend a week or two in a hospital, or longer, and she’s stable enough to transport first, I want to transport her to the best place.”
“On it,” Dray says, his thumbs flying over his phone. “Give me an hour.”
“You can have about four, at least. Meanwhile, prepare to clear Owen’s schedule to fly him out here. Don’t say anything to anyone yet, just start planning the logistics. Owen, make sure you have your passport.”
“Yes, Sir.” I can’t help it, it’s automatic, and hopefully everyone is so frazzled right now it’ll pass unnoticed by Benchley and Michelle.
“Okay, I need to go. I’ll call you all back once I’m there.Nopress.”
Then, he’s gone.
Dray and I hug each other as we cry, and I don’t give a fucking shit if Benchley Evans is watching me cry.
She’salive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Susa
I fuckinghateboats.
Did I mention that?
