Jack Beale 00 - Dangerous Shoals

her hair.
    She looked up. Her cheeks were wet from tears and she said, “I know.” Then she pulled away from him, wiped the tears off her cheek with her hand, and sniffled loudly. Patti and Courtney had moved to the dining room to give them some time alone.
    The moment ended with a thunderclap, followed by long gusts of wind. The tension of the past ten minutes vanished as they rushed alongside the rest of the staff to shut windows and secure deck tables and umbrellas before the inevitable surge of rain.
    Back in the bar, they watched as the waves of wind swept over the harbor. The atmosphere was green in the dying light of the day, and despite being tied down, several tables with umbrellas blew over. The boats in the harbor strained at their moorings as they swung from side to side. Irrepressible was tied to the floats, but Jack couldn’t see her from the bar, and despite his confidence in her security, he worried.
    The storm passed as quickly as it had arrived, and they watched in silence as it moved out over the ocean toward the Isles of Shoals. “So we’re good?” asked Jack, looking at Max.
    “We’re good.”
    “Listen to me, Max. Tom has already sent out Kurt’s photo to all the nearby hospitals and centers for urgent care. We know that Cat clawed him, so he may need help. Tom’s also checking motels and car rental agencies. He’ll find Kurt. I know he will.”

CHAPTER 86
    “THAT WAS TOO EASY .” Kurt congratulated himself as he drove away from the chemistry building. But by the time he was back on I-495 heading toward the seacoast, the adrenaline rush that had fueled his successful shopping trip was beginning to dissipate, only to be replaced by an increased throbbing in his hand and a level of pain that threatened to make him vomit. He looked at his hand. He needed to do something quickly.
    Because of the pain, he didn’t remember much of the ride. It wasn’t until he saw the sign for Route 110 in Amesbury that he realized how close to home he was. A glance at the clock on the dash told him that he didn’t have much time to get something for his hand.
    The chain drugstore was just off the highway. The lights were on, and the hours painted on the door told him that he had arrived with but five minutes to spare before the store would be closed. His luck continued. He didn’t see any customers as he walked slowly to the back where the sign over the counter said PHARMACY. He could see a lone man behind the counter.
    “Hello. I’m wondering what you might recommend for ointment? My cat scratched me and it is quite sore.” The startled pharmacist looked up. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone come in and had thought he was alone.
    “Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come in. You startled me,” he said, as he stared at the tall, gaunt figure standing in front of his counter. The man before him was wearing khaki slacks and a light-blue fisherman’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up. There was a bandage on his right hand, and a wide-brimmed hat was pulled low over his face. “How bad are the scratches? If they aren’t too bad, a good antibacterial ointment should suffice. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”
    Kurt stared back at him, saying nothing.
    The pharmacist leaned forward over the counter to look at the bandaged hand. Kurt pulled back, but it was too late.
    “That doesn’t look good. Those red lines on your wrist and arm, those don’t look like scratches. I’d say you have a pretty good infection going.”
    Kurt looked down at his hand. He didn’t say anything.
    “You’ll need something stronger than any ointment I could sell you. I’m not a doctor, but I’d say you need some serious antibiotics. You’ll need an actual prescription. This time of night, your best bet is an emergency room. There’s a hospital not far from here. I can give you directions.”
    That wasn’t what Kurt wanted to hear. Without thinking, he calmly looked at the pharmacist and said, “You can’t give me what I need?”
    The pharmacist shifted from foot to foot, with a pained look on his face. Glancing at the arm again, he said gently yet firmly, “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not without a proper prescription. I’m sorry, I really can’t help you.”
    Kurt just stood and silently stared at the pharmacist who did not want a confrontation. In an attempt to be helpful, and while continuing to look at Kurt, he asked, “Want those directions now?”
    “No thanks,” mumbled Kurt. He turned from the