Page 48 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

It’s lunchtime, but Zoe refuses a sandwich.

“How are you feeling?” Emma asks her.

“I’m fine.” She’s still trembling, though, and still white-faced.

“Maybe you should take her to get checked out,” Emma says to me.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?”

“Probably Kaitaia.”

“That’s about ninety minutes away, right?”

“Yeah. Or Whangarei, but that’s about ninety minutes as well.”

“I said I’m fine,” Zoe says.

I ignore her. “Actually, I know a doctor. I might give him a call.”

Zoe stiffens. “Don’t I have any say in this?”

“No.” I take my phone out of my pocket. Luckily, we’re heading back to land, and it has a weak signal. I pull up my contacts, find Brock King’s number, and dial it.

“Who is he?” Zoe asks as I put the phone to my ear.

“A friend of the family.” I wait, frowning, as the rain lashes down on the deck.

He answers on the sixth ring. “Brock King.”

“Brock, good afternoon, it’s Joel Bell here, Atticus Bell’s son. We met a few years ago, at a charity event in Auckland, I don’t know if you remember?”

“Joel, of course. It was the We Three Kings Christmas Ball, right?”

“That’s right.” Brock runs a company with his brothers called the Three Wise Men that makes medical equipment for children. They also run a charity called We Three Kings that grants wishes for sick and terminally ill children, and they’d asked for prizes for their holiday auction. Dad had heard through the church and suggested we donate a week’s stay in the sleepout next to our house. The family could join ours for Mum’s home-cooked meals if they wanted, and it would include whatever activities the child and their family desired—anything from tours of the surrounding mountains and forests to a visit to the local thermal pools, to fishing in the Waiau River, to joining our family for board games and playing with our dogs. I went to the auction to describe and present the prize, and I met Brock and his brothers—Charlie and Matt—that evening.

“It’s good to hear from you,” he says. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m up in Opito Bay at the moment on an excavation. We’re just heading back on the dive boat. My friend had a diving accident, and I’m looking for some advice.”

“Is it decompression sickness?”

“No, her regulator malfunctioned when we were thirty meters down. Everything’s fine—I was her dive buddy, and we shared my tank while we surfaced. She’s insisting she’s okay, and it is raining and quite cold today, but she’s shivering and quiet and I’m worried she might be in shock.”

“Was she injured? Is she bleeding?”

“No.”

“Okay, then it’s emotional shock, and she’s reacting to the fight or flight response. Does she feel sick or dizzy? Does she have a tight chest or throat?”

I repeat his question to Zoe. “I have a headache,” she whispers. “I feel a bit like I can’t think straight.”

“That’s quite common,” Brock says when I repeat it back to him. “Did she take in any water?”

“I don’t think so, or it was minimal at most.”

“Right. I’m sure she’s going to be fine, but I’ll come over and check her out, just to be sure.”

“You’re not in Auckland?”

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