Chapter 4 - The Security Footage
He walked us into the quiet lobby. Diane and Paul followed close behind. He led us into a small office and set the phone flat on the desk.
"It's security footage."
My heart slammed. "Just tell me if she's alive."
He hesitated. "Please. Watch."
He pressed play.
The first clip came from a camera at the far end of the bay. The banana boat appeared right where I expected it — headed back toward the resort.
Relief flooded me. "They're coming back."
Then, on the screen, Ethan started waving frantically at the driver. The driver cut the wheel hard. Instead of continuing toward the beach, the boat turned sharply — straight away from the resort.
"What is he doing?" The words were out before I knew I'd said them.
Mark leaned in toward the screen. "Why is he leaving?"
The manager paused it. Nobody moved. Diane stared at the frozen shape of her son.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
Neither did I. The boat had almost been home.
The manager took a slow breath. "Keep watching."
He opened a second clip and hit play.
For a few seconds, nothing. Then Nora slumped sideways. One second she was upright. The next, she folded against the side of the inflatable.
I covered my mouth. "No."
Ethan looked at her. Even in the grainy footage I could see the panic on his face. He grabbed for her. He shouted something. Then he threw both arms over his head, waving toward the shore.
He wasn't taking her away from us.
He was trying to save her.
The boat disappeared past the rocky point.
The manager opened another clip. "This camera belongs to Harbor Point Clinic."
The picture showed a short strip of beach beside the white building we'd barely glanced at during the safety talk. A few seconds later the banana boat shot into frame. The moment the driver ran it up onto the sand, Ethan jumped into the shallows. He hauled Nora up over his shoulder.
She wasn't walking. She wasn't helping him. She hung there, limp.
He ran for the clinic doors, screaming for help. Two nurses burst out. Then a doctor. In seconds they were gone inside with Nora on a stretcher.
The room went silent. I realized I'd stopped breathing.
The manager set the phone down gently. "They called us the second they identified your daughter. They've been treating her since she arrived."
I grabbed the edge of the desk. "What happened?"
Almost like he'd been waiting for the question, the office door opened. A middle-aged doctor stepped in.
"I'm Dr. Bennett." He looked at me, kind and steady. "Your daughter is stable."
Every bit of strength drained out of me. I dropped into the chair before my legs could quit. Mark wrapped both arms around me.
"What happened?" he asked.
The doctor glanced at the paused video. "She had a severe allergic reaction."
"To what?" I said.
"We believe it was the coconut-mango gelato they sell near the beach." He picked up a clipboard. "It contained traces of cashew."
My mind spun. "Nora's allergic to cashews."
"I know." He nodded. "She was carrying an epinephrine auto-injector."
"She always keeps one in her bag."
"Ethan found it. He used it." The doctor paused. "He also remembered something from the safety briefing."
My eyes went wide. "Harbor Point Clinic."
He almost smiled. "Most guests forget we're here. He didn't. He knew bringing her to us was far faster than turning back for the resort."
I looked again at the frozen image of Ethan carrying my daughter.
"He saved her."
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"He made exactly the right call." The doctor hesitated. "Another five minutes..."
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
