This one's a bit shorter than usual, as it's just a set-up to the all-important scene in the next chapter!

Thanks to all you reviewers as always. I usually like to reply personally if I can, however, if you have reviewed recently and I didn't reply, I do apologise - my e-mail did a wobbly and deleted some messages.

Chapter 22

Humphrey woke up very slowly.

He had a sense of feeling wonderfully cool for the first time in recent memory. Even at night, the temperature in the beach house could be high – he had a mobile air conditioning unit that didn't work at all and a fan that only gently stirred the humid air – so to feel goose-bumps on his arms was really quite…extraordinary.

Although, as he remembered after a minute, it wasn't actually the first time in recent memory – there had been that boathouse, with the freezing cold water around his knees and an icy sense of fear in his gut. This time, he felt cool but in a comfortable way.

After a further minute, he realised he was lying on a bed. Opening his eyes, he saw the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room and frowned. His last clear memory was of coming here, to this very same room in fact, after he and Camille had been rescued by Fidel and Dwayne, but he thought he'd discharged himself…hadn't he? He seemed to have memories of limping around on a painful knee in various locations around the island, of a thumping headache and of having arguments with Camille…

Camille! He could visualise her now – an upside-down worried-looking face peering down at him. He'd fainted – hadn't he? On the study floor at the Lawrences…

He winced and closed his eyes again, wearily. Well, he'd wanted to come back to the hospital, but he hadn't planned on doing it quite this way. Christ, how bloody embarrassing could he be? Flaking out in front of his Sergeant; the woman he… No. Let's not go there, he told himself sternly.

He tried to move his arms and legs, experimentally. His right leg felt stiff and odd – not painful, exactly, but as if something was pulling on it. He flexed his hands and realised that there was a drip in the back of one of them.

"You know, you are the single most aggravating man I have ever met. And that includes Richard."

His eyes flew open again.

Camille was sitting on a hospital chair near his head. As he turned his head to take her in properly, he saw that she was leaning back quite casually, her legs crossed and her arms folded, and looking as cool as a cucumber. The one sign that she was perhaps not quite as calm as she seemed was a tense jaw…and that was a warning sign for Camille, if ever there was one.

"Um…what happened to me?" he asked, weakly.

She picked up his medical clipboard, flicking slowly through the pages of information. "Weeeell, let's see, shall we? Prolonged raised temperature, badly infected wound, increased heart rate, low blood pressure causing dizziness and fainting, confusion, headache…" She dropped the clipboard and leaned forward. "You have sepsis, Humphrey! You could have gone into shock at any moment."

"But, but that's ridiculous! I -." He struggled into a semi-seated position. Looking down, he could see that the wound in his leg had been opened again and was currently being drained, which was probably why it had felt so heavy and awkward. He also noted, with no small degree of humiliation, that he was wearing only an extremely brief hospital gown, the type that was open at the back. Self-consciously, he tried to pull the hem down a little.

"Well, I didn't know it was that bad," he said, sheepishly. "How could I?"

"If you'd seen a doctor earlier instead of putting it off, this might not have happened! I mean, seriously, Humphrey!" She made an angry, peculiarly French, gesture. "You are in the tropics. There are any number of nasty bugs you could pick up. And the doctor said you must have been feeling terrible before you collapsed."

"I didn't feel great…" He paused and lay down again, shutting his eyes from exhaustion. "I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble."

"So you should be." Her voice was still a little angry, but at the same time he felt her warm hand squeezing his arm. He enjoyed the all-too-brief moment of comfort before she stood up, abruptly. "And now you are a little better, I am off to arrest Jessica Law."

"Uh – wait! Why?" He opened his eyes and struggled up into a sitting position again. "How long was I out?"

She glanced at her watch. "Just over six hours. The doctor said not to worry, it is just your body's way of recovering."

"And you've – um, you've been here, all this time?"

She paused, seeming a bit confused. "Well, I…I wasn't going to leave you alone! Who knows what you would have got up to!"

"What – unconscious and on a hospital bed? What did you think I'd get up to?"

She tried to look severe, but he could tell she was struggling not to smile. "I wouldn't put it past you, Humphrey Goodman. Oh, and to answer your other question, you named Jessica Law as the killer just before you fainted."

"I did? Um, yes, I remember saying her name…" He frowned, unable to recall his reasoning.

"Yes, so I'm assuming you want her brought in now?" she enquired, raising an eyebrow. "Dwayne is keeping an eye on her; he's sort-of undercover at the hotel at the moment. We're just waiting for your decision, but I will go over to provide back-up in case she resists."

She turned towards the door.

"Wait!" He tried to move his legs off the bed before realising what a monumentally bad idea that was. "Camille, you have to wait! I need to come too – it's the denouement! I have to be there to explain everything like I always do -."

"What are you doing!" she hissed, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from moving any further. "You have to stay here! That's an antibiotic drip in your arm -."

"- yes, so you have to get it out, don't you see -."

"- and there's a drain in your wound! You can't just walk out, it's madness to consider it. For heaven's sake, Humphrey." This last was in response to his clumsy attempt to pull the needle out of his hand. She pulled his other hand away and pushed him back into a reclining position, looking alarmed but giggling at the same time. He supposed he must make a fairly comical picture in the ridiculously short hospital gown.

"Nieto -."

"Will have to wait," she replied, firmly. "We've enough evidence to keep him in the cells anyway, just for kidnap and attempted murder. The drugs charge can come later. And as for Law, we can bring her in and take her statement. I'll bring it here later, so you can take a look. We have enough evidence to hold her on a fraud charge."

"But -."

"No. Just stay here. That's an order."

"You can't order me around," he responded, weakly, but she nodded over her shoulder.

"True, but he can."

"Everything alright in here?" The doctor strode into the room, appearing calmly unaware of Humphrey's feeble struggles to discharge himself. "I see you're back with us, Inspector Goodman. Feeling better?"

"Er, yes, thank you. However, I do need to leave as soon as I can, Doctor. I'm in the middle of a case, you see."

"So I gather." The doctor exchanged an amused glance with Camille, who had stepped back. "Well, you have a nasty infection in that leg. Probably caused by something in the dirt in that boathouse. Your wound was exposed for a prolonged period of time. Your vital signs -" He paused, looking through Humphrey's records before smiling at him, "- are stable. You're fighting off the infection nicely, but I think we'll keep you in for a little longer to be sure. A couple of days, at least."

"Days?" Humphrey was aghast.

The doctor's eyes slid over to Camille again for a moment.

"I'm sure your team is diligent enough to carry on with you out of the 'field', so to speak." He nodded at Humphrey in a friendly manner and turned to leave. "Oh, and by the way," he called out over his shoulder, "I wouldn't try to pull out that drain without medical assistance if I were you. The consequences could be unpleasant."

There was a brief silence after his departure. Humphrey sighed at the smug look on his Sergeant's face. "Alright, I'll stay put, but be careful."

She grinned. "Aren't I always? Oh look, there's someone else to keep an eye on you."

He sighed again as Josh came into the room. "And you arranged it, didn't you?"

"Not sure what you mean," she called out airily as she passed Josh on her way out.

Josh gave Humphrey a sheepish look. "Sorry about that. I feel a bit like a baby-sitter, I must admit. Still, it's good to see you looking better."

"Really?" Humphrey cast a grumpy look at the hospital gown.

Josh sniggered, sitting on the visitor's chair. "Do you think they picked that one out deliberately? I'm sure there must be larger ones."

"Yes, probably." Humphrey sighed. "I'm not sure it matters – I've made enough of a fool of myself already."

Josh gave him an amused but sympathetic look. "Don't sweat it, mate. She'll come around."

"I'm that obvious, am I?"

Josh snorted. "I'm not that amazing an investigative reporter. It's fairly obvious from the way you look at her when she isn't looking."

Humphrey narrowed his eyes at the journalist. "You're fairly observant, aren't you?"

"I like to think I am," Josh replied, shrugging.

"So…what was it about the photograph earlier? I am remembering right, aren't I? When you were looking at that family photograph with your mother in it, you looked confused. At first, I thought it was seeing a photo that you hadn't seen for a long time, but then you said you had a copy anyway."

Josh frowned. "That's right. It was just… I don't know. Just, when I was looking at the photo of Mum, I was struck by how strongly Emilia resembled her. I think I might have noticed before and that was partly why I warmed to her…but seeing their photos side by side reinforced it."

"But Emilia resembles her own mother, Emma," Humphrey pointed out.

"Well, yes…" Josh shrugged. "I guess they're just very alike, both of my Dad's wives. It must a particular look he goes for."

"Hmm…" Humphrey stared at the ceiling, blankly. Who else had made that observation – was it Dwayne? His mind whirring, he sought to remember exactly what it was that he'd realised so suddenly in the study at the Lawrences just before his collapse…

Josh shifted a little. "Look, Humphrey, I was wondering if I could pop back to the hotel at some point today? I really need to take a closer look at the damage done to my brother's stuff. You don't mind if I go, do you? I don't know why Camille wanted me to sit with you - she just called me on her phone earlier and asked me to take over guard duty so she could get on with the case."

Humphrey stared at him. "What was that – what did you just say?"

The journalist looked confused. "Um, I said that she rang me -."

"Rang you – that's it!" He sat up, wincing at the stretch of the drain. "Where's my phone? And where's yours?"

Obligingly, Josh searched the pockets of Humphrey's jacket, which was hanging on the back of the door and brought his phone back to the bed. Humphrey powered it on and looked anxiously for a new text.

There it was:

Heart attack, likely induced by heroin overdose. Come and visit us soon, if you can drag yourself away from the tropical paradise. Ben and dogs send love. SH.

He closed the message, looking up at Josh expectantly. "And your phone? I need to listen to Emilia's message again."

Josh located it for him, and he listened intently. There it was, in the background to Emilia and Josh's conversation. The blare of the ferry's horn.

"She was in the study with the window open when she rang you," he breathed. "So that was it…which means that…"

He dropped Josh's phone on the bed, picked up his own and hit the speed dial. Camille's phone went straight to answerphone. She must be driving. He swore under his breath and looked up at Josh urgently.

"Which means that Jessica Law is in serious danger! That's what I realised just before I fainted."

He redialled the station number, looking up at Josh as he did so. "Josh, you need to get after Camille immediately! Find Jessica Law…before the killer does."