Chasing The Sun (Angel Sands 7)

This time when the coughs came, Jackson sat straight up. “There’s somebody here,” he said, scooting out of bed onto his knees. When he stood, he was holding a baseball bat he must have retrieved from beneath the divan. “Stay here,” he told Lydia. “Be ready to call the police.”

“I’m not staying. I’m coming with you,” she told him, following him out of his bedroom and down the stairs. She was wearing one of his t-shirts with I translate coffee into code printed across her chest in black writing.

Jackson was in his shorts, and she really tried not to notice the way his back muscles knotted and tightened as he lifted the bat up and kicked the kitchen door open.

Almost immediately, he dropped it and ran into the room. “Jesus, Eddie,” he said, scooting down next to the dog. “You stink, boy.”

Instead of wagging his tail the way he always did when he saw Jackson or Lydia, Eddie whimpered and started hacking again. A mass of brown sludge escaped from his mouth and onto the tiled floor, joining five piles he’d already made.

Along with piles of something else that Lydia didn’t even want to acknowledge, because she knew those hadn’t come from his mouth.

When he’d finished vomiting, Eddie collapsed to the floor, his body shaking. “What should we do?” Lydia asked urgently, tiptoeing through the minefield of excrement until she reached Jackson’s side. He was cradling Eddie’s head and telling him softly it was going to be okay.

“Call the emergency vet,” Jackson said. “We need to take him in.”

20

“We’re giving Eddie fluids through an IV drip,” Max Jenkins, the on-call vet, said, walking out into the waiting room. Jackson and Lydia were the only people there. “The vomiting has stopped for now, but his airways are swollen, so we’ve given him some anti-histamine. Do you know if he’s eaten anything unusual in the past twenty-four hours?”

“No.” Jackson shook his head. “He’s had his usual food. He was watched by a friend this afternoon, but she would have told me if she’d given him anything.”

“Maybe best to check anyway,” Max suggested, his grey eyebrows knitting together. “What about last night? Did you take him anywhere he

doesn’t usually go?”

“We took him to the beach the way we always do.” Lydia curled her fingers around Jackson’s hand. She wasn’t sure who was more shook up over Eddie’s horrible sickness. While they’d waited for the vet to examine him, Jackson had sat staring at the floor, his elbows on his hard thighs, his hands raked in his hair. “He was in the water and played catch a lot. He seemed happy, you know?”

“Maybe there was something in the water,” Max mused. He’d taken his cap and gloves off, but was still wearing the plastic gown he’d put on as soon as Eddie had arrived. “Though I’d have expected to see more animals come in if there was. Half of Angel Sands walk their dogs on that beach.”

Lydia looked up, her eyes widening. “What about the jellyfish?” she asked Jackson, before turning to Max. “Eddie brought half a jellyfish to us. We made him drop it, but I didn’t think about the other half. Could that have caused a reaction?”

“Damn,” Jackson swore softly. “I hadn’t thought about that. Jellyfish can be poisonous, can’t they?”

“They can certainly cause extreme reactions if they’re eaten,” Max agreed. “Depending on what type. I don’t suppose you got a good look at it?”

“Not really. I was too busy making Eddie drop it.” Jackson looked like he wanted to kick himself. “Will he be okay?”

Lydia held her breath until the vet nodded. “If it’s just half a jellyfish, he should be fine. I’d like to keep him in for a few hours to make sure the anti-histamine is working, and I’ll call you when you can take him home.” He checked his watch. “It’s still early. You should go home and get some sleep. You’ll need to watch Eddie carefully for the next day or so until he’s back on his feet.”

“We can stay,” Lydia offered. “In case he needs us.”

“We’ll take good care of him,” the vet reassured her. “There’s no point in sitting around here. I’ve been told many times that the chairs here are uncomfortable.” He gave them a rueful smile. “And when you come back in, our receptionist will be here. She can take all your insurance details in the morning.”

“I don’t have insurance,” Jackson told him. “I’ll pay by card. Whatever it costs to make him well.”

Lydia squeezed his hand harder.

“You really should think about pet insurance,” the vet told him. “Dogs like Eddie love to eat things they shouldn’t. This time he should be okay, but if he’d needed surgery it could be very costly.”

“He’s not my dog. I’m just taking care of him,” Jackson informed him.

“We found him by the side of the road. Brooke looked over him and promised to keep an eye out for his owners, but they haven’t been found yet,” Lydia added.

“That’s a shame.” Max frowned. “I’ll ask Brooke to do some more digging. You shouldn’t have to pay for his care when you don’t own him.”

“I’m happy to pay,” Jackson insisted. “Eddie got sick on my watch.”

“We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m going to head back and check on Eddie, and see if there’s anything else he needs to get the jellyfish out of his system.”