His voice rumbled against her ear, “She and her baby needed help.”
“Who are you? All those people came to help from upstairs?” She pushed back to look in his face.
“Every operator has a minimum of EMT-level training. Sam and Kevin are advanced-level paramedics and combat medics. Logan is a PA, and Hunt, he’s a trauma surgeon,” Kip told her.
Harper wiggled her nose. “With all those medical people around—your jobs are dangerous.”
“Harper, I’m one of the founders of the largest US security company. It’s what I do. It’s part of who I am,” he explained.
“I…I feel overwhelmed.” Harper yawned; the adrenaline was wearing off. “Kip, I’m sorry for yawning.”
He cocked his head. “You’re allowed after that.”
Rene Sommerstone walked into the room looking grim and pale. “Your assistant said I could find you here. I don’t know what to say.” Seemingly surprised and embarrassed by Harper’s presence, he continued, “Ah, I see you met the system’s best nurse. Harper, thank you.”
“It was for Susie,” she said as she pushed past them.
* * *
Kip frowned.“Nothing you say can make up for this mess. If that woman and child suffer irreparable damage, you will never practice again. You are damn lucky my staff was available to intercede. Not to mention your son coming in under the influence of alcohol. I will ask Dr. Montgomery to file a complaint with the medical board. He also will be suspended from the hospital staff.”
“You can’t do that,” Rene blustered.
“You and Jerrold are fond of that phrase. The minute we close, he’s done. We will let the medical board decide his punishment, but he will never have privileges in a Chase Care facility.”
“That will ruin him,” Rene said.
“Dr. Sommerstone, he ruined himself.” Kip turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the doctor alone.
* * *
The clock clickedone more minute, landing on 1900 hours. The email about the sale went out. When Kip inhaled, Josh joined him. “You alright, Boss?”
“Fine. Here it comes.” Kip got up and walked to the window. He stared out into the vibrant French Quarter, where no matter what day of the week, it was busy and filled with revelers. Colored lights lit the sky.
Kyle came in behind him. “I heard what happened.”
Kip turned to face him. “It could have been a catastrophe. I told Rene, Jerrold’s days practicing are limited.”
“I’ve got good news. We are licensed and cleared to open. The sixteen physicians we hired are also Louisiana-licensed. I plan on holding on to the docs we borrowed for the storm.” Kyle smiled.
“Thank you.” Kip shook his head.
“You’re welcome. Have you heard from Bruce and Rich?”
“Negative. I’m not good at waiting.” Kip swished his jaw.
Rich Parry walked in. “The hospital is going to be a shit show. We’re going to have a ton to clean up—and that’s only the physical plant. I ordered a three-foot-tall perimeter of sandbags. I’m closing the first level garage effective Tuesday at 0001. Monday, I have three full maintenance and janitorial crews each going in. New linens and disposable supplies are in the warehouse ready to go. Hunt and Logan are going ward to ward. I assigned Crescent 2 to accompany them, but, Kip…”
“I hear you. I need to shower, then we’ll head there. Kyle, Rich, see if you can track down our people at the Manor. My gut is warning,” Kip said.
“On it,” Kyle confirmed.
* * *
A blue hazecrept over the bed on the fourth floor of the Sommerstone Manor in the 8thWard. The wooden mansion, home to two hundred seventy-five elderly and sick residents of New Orleans, was constructed in 1902, and had a minimum of modern fire prevention devices.
The patient in Room 411, suffering from end-stage Alzheimer’s disease, had lost her awareness of time, place, and even who she was. She was no longer able to speak, walk, bathe, or feed herself. In her late nineties, the woman was dependent on someone for all her bodily functions.
