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A wave rolled over his head and shoulders, pushing him towards the shore. The momentum gave him some motivation to move. Slowly.
It would be so easy to power up the beach after her. But Donovan was normally known for his self-control. The incident with the gun had proved that. He walked out of the water, grabbing his vest in his hands and checking his phone.
No messages. No calls from Callum.
He was about to look away when he remembered the app. He clicked on the Twitter button. The last time he’d looked had been thirty-five days ago. Showed how often he paid attention to it.
The phone almost shook in protest and the data downloaded. He started scrolling, letting his still-wet fingers drip water onto the screen. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
He followed a number of colleagues at work, some national Twitter feeds about public health, and some official organisations. His feed wasn’t exactly overrun with celebrity small talk.
Then his finger froze and he squinted at the screen. He expanded the words with his fingers. No way. Frank Parker. That little no-good stinking rat.
Donovan had never liked him. Too cocky. Too confident. That would be fine if he had the kudos to go along with it. But he didn’t. Donovan had picked him up a few times on clinical errors and not following protocols.
He could feel the heat surge into his cheeks. Fury building in his chest. He’d kill him. He’d kill him and drag his body off to some dark forest somewhere.
He could hide a body. He could do that. He’d watched CSI enough times to know about forensic evidence. Or maybe he could poison the creep. Better still, he could just wring his neck with his bare hands.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt rage like this.
He stopped on the sand, hand on his hip, and took a few deep breaths, trying to still the fury and uncontrollable thoughts. No wonder Grace was upset. No wonder the last thing she wanted to be seen doing was kissing the boss.
The implications were clear.
But Frank Parker couldn’t be more wrong if he’d tried. He and Grace had never had a conversation before the incident. They had no relationship. And Grace was incapable of anything he’d accused her of.
As for the implied slur on him—that he’d selected Grace for anything other than her expertise—that did make him mad.
The caveman urges started to dissipate and the DPA team leader’s mind started to reappear. This was unprofessional conduct without a shadow of a doubt. A phone call to the director was called for. His legs started covering the beach in long strides.
He had worked hard for this position. He wasn’t about to let some trouble-making colleague call his professionalism into question.
Yes. He had given Grace the job without application or interview, but that wasn’t unusual in the DPA. As soon as a team member revealed she was pregnant she was immediately pulled from fieldwork. It was a necessity.
If it had been a few weeks before the team was called out again, he would have time to interview from the pool of potential candidates already within the DPA. Their recruitment for fieldwork teams was always done internally.
But because they had been called out straight away he’d had to make the decision to select a new team member or leave with a member down. People had been recruited like this before. Grace had impressed him with her knowledge and expertise. She was ready. She was ready for a fieldwork assignment.
Frank Parker was not. His skills were best suited to the lab.
His phone buzzed. A text. From Callum Ferguson.
Just heard about the social media debacle. Frank Parker will never have a place on my team or yours. Tell Grace I think she’s done a stellar job so far. As for you, keep calm. The damage is done. Talk to the Director. Tell him if Frank Parker is still in the office when I return I’ll deal with him myself.
A smile spread across his face. It wasn’t just him that was about to blow a gasket. There was reassurance from the Granddad of Disease that he thought Frank’s actions were inappropriate too. The big Scotsman always spoke his mind and took no prisoners. Donovan shook his head. He would speak to the director. And he would pass on Callum’s warning. Neither he, nor the director, would want to see Callum’s reaction.
He scrolled down for the number of the director’s PA. The phone answered after two rings. ‘DPA, Director Kane’s office.’
‘Julie? It’s Donovan Reid. Can I speak to the director?’
There was a long pause. ‘Yes, Donovan. We were expecting your call. Unfortunately Director Kane is unavailable.’
‘I need to talk to him as soon as possible.’
He could almost hear the smile in her voice. ‘He’s dealing with a member of staff who is being transferred to another office immediately. I’m doing the paperwork now.’
Donovan pulled back his shoulders. The inference was there. ‘Is it who I think it is?’
Julie cleared her throat, ‘Let’s just say the same individual will have a permanent note regarding unprofessional conduct and bringing the organisation into disrepute on their file.’
‘I don’t need to call back, do I, Julie?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. The director is keen for his fieldwork teams to be able to concentrate on the job in hand.’
‘No problem.’ He cut the call. It was strange what a surge of pleasure he felt at hearing those few words. Someone had obviously alerted the director to the comment in the social media and he’d acted immediately. Just the way he should.
He reached the entrance to the motel. He had to let Grace know things had been dealt with. She didn’t need to think about Frank Parker’s comments. She didn’t need to think about what had just happened on the beach. She could just concentrate on being Grace Barclay, doctor on her first fieldwork assignment.
He was outside her door a few moments later, his hand hesitating for a second before he knocked on the door. He had to keep this professional. He had to keep this above board.
He stood in silence for a few moments. Was Grace not going to answer the door? Maybe she’d looked through the peephole and decided not to answer? He didn’t even want to admit how much those thoughts bothered him. How very uncomfortable they made him.
The door inched open, Grace’s face appearing in the narrow gap. Her hair was bundled up on her head and one of the thin motel towels was wrapped around her body.
‘You braved the ice-cold shower?’ He said the first thing that came to mind and wanted to grab the words back as soon as he’d said them. Of course she’d had a shower. Anything to cool the heat that had been in their bodies.
She adjusted the towel, trying to cover her boobs a little more. ‘I didn’t have much choice.’ She said the words quietly. ‘What do you want, Donovan?’
He glanced over his shoulder. He really didn’t want to have this conversation in the corridor. ‘Can I come in?’ When her face didn’t change he added, ‘It’s about work.’
It felt strange, having to talk his way into a woman’s room. He’d never had to do that in his life before. He’d never wanted to do it before. But this was different. This was important.
She gave a brief nod then opened the door, allowing him to edge inside.
The room felt oppressive. Dark and closed in. He almost didn’t want her to close the door behind him. He was conscious of how close he was to her and kept his arms firmly by his sides. Resisting the urge to reach out and touch her.
‘Grace, I called the office.’
Her eyes were huge in the dim room. Her pupils dark and wide. She was biting her bottom lip, obviously nervous. ‘What did they say?’
‘I didn’t even get to speak to the director. I suspect he had Frank in his office and was tearing a few strips off him. He’s being transferred to another office.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Really? Just like that?’ She to
ok a few seconds then stared down at the floor. Her voice was quiet. ‘All because of one tweet?’
‘Don’t you dare feel sorry for him, Grace.’ He kept his voice low. He hated the way she looked right now. Hated it that she’d been hurt. Grace had no idea what people really thought of her. Her confidence had been shattered by Frank Parker’s one selfish act. He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out towards her. ‘Read this.’
‘What is it?’ Her hand reached out hesitantly before she took the phone and pressed the button to light up the screen. It only took her a few seconds to read the message. Her hand came up to her mouth. ‘Oh. Wow. Callum Ferguson said that about me?’
He nodded. There was an edge of disbelief to her voice and her expression was changing. All in an instant. Her shoulders and back straightened, making her two inches taller. Her eyes lit up and the corners of her lips curved upwards. It was like she’d just been given a shot of confidence. And the transformation was startling.
