“You people need to leave right now! How did you even get up here? Don’t make me call security! You need to leave right now. This floor is off-limits to visitors.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say to Harry Wong. Before he pivoted on the ball of one foot, he made sure Jack’s hold on Lizzie was secure before he reached for the ugly, fussy little man’s nose and tweaked it. “We walked up here. On our two feet. We came to see the patient in that room. Think carefully before you answer if there is any part of that you don’t understand.” The ugly little man dropped to his knees as he tried to figure out what had just happened to him.

“I can stand, Jack, put me down,” Lizzie Fox said hoarsely. She turned as she struggled to focus on the ugly little man, who was still on his knees, sputtering and mumbling. “These people are my and my husband’s friends. That means they are family. They have every right to be here.”

Fergus Duffy stepped forward, and announced, “I represent Countess Anna de Silva. She is a fifty-one percent owner of this private clinic. I can call her and have her speak with you if you like.”

Out of nowhere, a tall string bean of a man, wearing a white coat with a stethoscope in the pocket, a pearl-white Stetson, and cowboy boots stepped through the gaggle of people. “That won’t be necessary, will it, Dr. Brackman?” There was a ring of steel in the string bean’s voice that did not go unnoticed by the others.

“I’m the doctor in charge of Mr. Cricket. Do I need to remind you he is my patient? You are overstepping your bounds, Dr. Wylie,” the ugly little man barked.

“The only reason you are the patient’s doctor of record is because I was half a world away and wasn’t here when the patient was admitted. By all rights, Dr. Simon Simmons is Mr. Cricket’s doctor of record since he is the one who performed Mr. Cricket’s surgery. We’re going to correct that as soon as we make sense out of what’s going on here. Lizzie, you need to go home and get some rest. You aren’t doing yourself or your husband any favors by staying here twenty-four hours a day. You need at least twelve hours of sleep, a good hot meal, and a steaming shower. Then and only then can you come back. I promise you I will stay with your husband until you return,” Dr. Wylie said gently.

“My money is on the string bean, Lizzie,” Jack whispered. “Let’s take you home so you can follow the doctor’s orders, and we’ll bring you back when you’re ready. The others will stay here if Dr. Wylie says it is okay. You good with that, Lizzie?” Lizzie’s head bobbed up and down as her legs finally gave out. Harry scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Lizzie was finally out for the count.