about her made him ache for something he had never realized he was missing.
* * *
Hara woke up in the hotel the next morning feeling hungover and dead tired. She had dropped into sleep a number of times, only to wake clutching at her chest and gasping, terrified by graphic nightmares about blood and corpses. Always it was Naomi, dead in a river. Dead in a car. Dead on a hospital room floor.
However, Hara had spent the night more awake than asleep, thanks to her brain being unable to shut off. She’d thought about everything that had happened, everything that could happen, and everything that should happen. Like Derek knocking on her door and crawling into her bed at one in the morning. That should have happened. It didn’t.
Instead, she’d received a text telling her not to come to the game. That Derek didn’t want to see her. I knew things were hard between us, she thought, but not that hard. What, he couldn’t be within a hundred feet of her?
She shut her eyes, pulled the perfectly weighted white quilt up to her chin, and ran her feet over sheets that must have been made from million-dollar silkworms. While she could appreciate the exquisite comfort of the hotel bed, her body still suffered. Her head hurt, her stomach was a mess. She’d had two martinis delivered to her room last night. Maybe three. The queasy feeling should have meant something fun happened the night before. It didn’t.
She dialed room service and asked for tea, toast, and eggs. A setting for one.
Then she called the hospital.
“Can you please transfer me to room 419? Naomi Martin’s room?”
After a few seconds, the voice on the other end of the line came back. “I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone here by that name.”
Panic rushed through Hara. “I know she’s there. Will you please look again?”
“Room 419 has a patient by another name, and Naomi Martin is not listed in any other room. But let me check with a nurse on that floor. One minute, please.”
One of the nurses from the night before answered the phone. “I remember you. Your friend is stable, don’t worry. Sorry for the confusion. But she has been transferred to another hospital.”
“What? Why? Where?” Ever the journalist.
“I can’t say.” But then the nurse’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I will tell you she is in a swanky private hospital with one-on-one, twenty-four-hour care.”
“Oh my God. Are you saying she’s in a psych ward?”
“No! I can’t give you any more information, hon, but she’s in good hands.”
Hara breathed a huge sigh of relief. Charles must have stepped up, even if he was just throwing money at a problem. It was a lot of money. She left a message on Naomi’s cell for her to call when she felt up to it, or if she needed anything.
The young reporter took her time getting ready for the game. She might as well enjoy the room while it lasted. She was not in a hurry to leave the comfort and safety of the swanky digs. What was waiting for her today? A tornado?
Hara decided to ask the front desk if they had a flashlight she could borrow. Maybe a helmet. A floaty. And an EpiPen. A few days ago, Hara had thought small, nipple-size Band-Aids were the most important items to have in her bag. How her priorities had changed.
Her phone rang. It was her mother.
Oh goody. More high drama.
“Mom? What’s up?”
“Hara.”
The hackles on the back of her neck rose. Her mother’s voice was low, clogged.
“What is it?”
“Your dad. He’s in the prison infirmary. His roommate Jonas just called, said he’d found him unconscious in their cell. He says he was beaten pretty badly, Hara.” Willa’s throat clicked audibly. “Thomas is awake now. Jonas says he’s been asking for you, that you can call directly into the infirmary. I have the number.”
It took Hara a second to find her tongue. “How bad is it?”
“They had to intubate him while he was unconscious. Some broken ribs punctured a lung. That’s all they’ve said.”
“I … I can get on a plane. I can be at the prison tonight. It’ll be late, but I can get there.”
“Don’t bother. No one is allowed in to see him. But you can call, talk to his doctors. Here’s the number.”
Hara’s shaking hand dropped the pen a few times but she finally got the number down. “But they kept him at the prison? Didn’t take him to the hospital? That’s a