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She thinks back. “No, nothing I can think of.”
“Does your house have CCTV or an alarm?” She shakes her head. “Pity.”
Jess notices his gaze shift to her left forearm, to the straight silvery lines, stark on her skin. She hurriedly pulls the bed sheet up to cover them.
“The smoke alarms,” she remembers suddenly. “They didn’t go off.”
He nods again. He’s not taking notes, just listening, the frown still on his face. “When did you last check them?” he asks.
She can’t remember. She opens her mouth and closes it again. She doesn’t know what else to tell him, to make him believe her.
But then the curtain is pulled aside, and a man appears in front of them. Griffin stands up and backs away as he takes in the lanyard and ID, the stethoscope around the man’s neck.
“Jess! I’m sorry, I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?”
Jess feels herself relax at the welcome sight of her friend. The doctor turns, acknowledging the other man standing at Jess’s bedside.
“Nav Sharma,” he says, going to offer his hand, but Griffin is already walking away, his head bowed, back hunched.
Nav turns back to Jess, sitting down in the chair the detective has just vacated. He takes her hands in his.
“Nav, have you seen Alice?” she asks.
“Yes. She’s awake but still on oxygen, confused, with a nasty headache.” He smiles, but she can see the lost night’s sleep and the worry on his face. “They’re a great team on the ICU. She’s in the best possible hands. And I know my goddaughter—she’s strong. She’s a fighter.”
“And Mom and Dad?”
“They’re looking after her.” Jess feels marginally better, knowing her parents are there with her daughter. She imagines her mom, gently stroking Alice’s hair. Her dad bustling around, ensuring everything is taken care of.
“And how are you?” Nav repeats softly.
His kindness starts her crying again, and he reaches forward, hugging her in a tight embrace. She leans into him. He smells of antiseptic and a long night on the wards. He slowly lets her go.
“I’m sorry about Patrick,” he says. “He was … he …” And he stops talking, his mouth turned down, eyes closed. She smiles weakly at her friend, squeezing his hand. He takes a long breath in, pulling himself together before turning his attention back to her. She knows Nav is more upset than he’ll let on now, but his professionalism takes over.
“Do they know—” Nav asks, but Jess cuts him off.
“Of course they know, Nav. It’s written all over my medical records.” She snaps more than she intends, and instantly feels guilty. There’s a pause, and she knows Nav is looking at her. She doesn’t like being the person he is seeing. Weak, sick. Pathetic.
Jess looks down, the soggy tissue still clutched in her fingers. She notices the black under her nails, lines of dirt from the fire etched into her skin.
“And who was that?” he says eventually.
“Police.”
He turns and looks in the direction Griffin has gone, but the corridors are empty.
“They won’t let me see Alice. They think I …” Jess’s voice fades as Nav nods, his expression grave.
“I know. Your mom said.”
“You’ll look after her, won’t you?” Jess asks, feeling her eyelids start to droop. Her body is weary, needing the energy to recover.
She takes comfort in Nav being next to her. He’s her oldest friend, since they met at their local dive bar at university. Nav had been part of a group of testosterone-fueled, ritual-drinking medical students. Jess had been on a quiet night out with friends. He’d slurred an apology before puking on her shoes.
The next day—somehow—he’d tracked her down, presenting her with a brand new pair of sneakers. It was an unexpected gesture, but something fully in keeping with the way Nav was. Polite, posh, preppy. She’s always trusted him with her life. And now, she trusts him with her daughter’s.
She closes her eyes.
