“Do we know what caused the fire?” Beth murmurs.
I shake my head. “I talked to the cops. They’re still investigating, but I heard one of the firefighters say the blaze started on the second floor, where Harper lives.”
“Oh no,” Marissa says, hand clasped to her mouth. “Do you think it was arson? The case she was worki—”
“Yeah. I think it could have been.” I nod, anger swelling in my chest. “This guy is relentless.”
As much as I want to see that jerk in handcuffs right now, I just hope Harper is okay. I can’t focus on anything else.
Beth’s eyes fill with tears, and Marissa wraps an arm around her shoulders. Adler drops into a chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as if in prayer. Miles paces a few steps, then stops, rubbing the back of his neck.
And then we wait.
Minutes stretch. Time crawls. A nurse passes by, not looking at us, and my heart jumps anyway. Every set of footsteps down the hall makes my pulse spike.
I sit down, then stand, then sit again, my knee bouncing uncontrollably.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I jump—Glenda.
Shoot. With everything that’s happened, I completely forgot to tell her. What do I even say?
“Glenda,” I breathe out, and then tears choke me up, my throat closing. I can’t fight out another word.
Adler takes my phone without hesitation, resting a firm hand on my shoulder as I drop my head into my hands. His voice is muffled as though I’m underwater, tone calm and steady as he explains what happened to Harper. He reassures Glenda, promises we’re at the hospital and that Harper isn’t alone.
A moment later, he hands me back my phone.
“I’m going to call Golden Age,” he says. “See if they’d let me bring Glenda here. She wants to come.”
“Should I…” I stammer, lifting my head, but I’m not sure I’m capable of doing anything right now. My limbs feel heavy, like all the strength has drained from them.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.” He nods, already putting the phone back to his ear.
So, we wait again.
James and Beth head over to Golden Age to pick up Glenda, and the rest of us just sit in silence. Miles stares at the wall. Marissa twists her fingers together. And I keep replaying the moment Harper collapsed, over and over, like my brain is trying to punish me.
After what feels like hours, the door finally opens again, and a nurse strides toward us.
“Are you here for Harper Donnelly?”
“Yes,” I blurt, already flying to my feet, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“Her CT scan is clear—no brain injury. The gash on her head has been taken care of, and we’ve kept her on a nasal cannula for the smoke inhalation. She’s stable and doing well.” The nurse pauses, glancing at her clipboard. “She asked for someone named Baptiste?”
My heart lurches so violently, it almost hurts. “That’s me!”
She gives a quick nod. “Follow me.”
Marissa squeezes my shoulder, her eyes glossy, and I follow the nurse down the corridor. With every step, my legs threaten to buckle. The hallway smells sterile and clean, too clean compared to the smoke and chaos that enveloped us earlier, and my shoes squeak against the polished floor.
“She’s right in here,” the nurse says, stopping in front of a room.
I push open the door.
The room is small and quiet, dimmed lights casting their gloomy rays on the hospital equipment. Harper is propped up in her bed, a thin oxygen tube coming out of her nose and a discreet bandage taped to the side of her head. She’s still pale, but she’s awake. My whole body sags with relief.
“You’re really here,” she croaks in a hoarse whisper.
