Page 46 of Nothing to Fear

“I’ve never asked you for anything.” Willow sat at the kitchen table, rubbing her knee. “Not even after Mom died and I needed a lot of help. And what I am asking now isn’t for me. It’s for Dad, who has done a lot for you.”

Laurel groaned. “Fine. I’ll send Simone.”

“Simone?” The au pair?

Dad had met her the one time they’d been invited to Connecticut for Thanksgiving and hated her instantly. He’d warned Laurel that her husband was sleeping with the vivacious lady and should get rid of her.

“My au pair. She cleans and cooks. She’ll do great.”

“You’ll come.” Willow sprang to her feet, slapping the table. “Not your au pair, who Dad won’t tolerate. Say you understand, you narcissistic, selfish—”

“Okay, you brat. I’ll come. But don’t you ever run another guilt trip on me.”

“Thank you.” Willow disconnected the call, taking deep breaths to calm down. Her sister better go. She didn’t know what she’d do if Laurel didn’t keep her word, but Willow would think of something.

She handed Ken the phone.

“Good job, sweetheart. You cut it close but packed a lot in forty-two seconds.”

Smiling, she drifted toward the door. The aromatic smell of sugary delight was strongest in this part of the apartment, cutting through the stench of chemicals around Ken’s desk. Her stomach grumbled. She went back into the kitchen to see if there were any doughnuts left.

Her gaze flickered up to the television, catching a cutaway from an update on a tropical storm upgrading to a hurricane in the Atlantic to a breaking news headline. An aerial shot of a house on fire popped up. The neighborhood looked familiar. The bright green house next door to the one burning almost looked like Mr. Thompson’s but…

The horrifying realization solidified hard and cold as a rock in the pit of her stomach.

My house is on fire—with my father inside.

Willow staggered closer to the television and turned up the volume.

“An elderly man was found in the house,” the female reporter said. “He was rushed to Saint Margaret’s Hospital and is currently in a coma in intensive care. Authorities suspect arson and are looking to question the man’s daughter, Willow Harper.” Her picture came up on the television. “If anyone has seen this woman or knows her current whereabouts, they should contact authorities immediately.”

Her head spun like her brain was caught in a centrifuge. The room began to tilt, and she slumped into a chair.

Could smoke inhalation cause a coma? How did the fire even start? Did her dad have an accident trying to cook? He’d almost set a fire once at the stove, and afterward, she always made certain the freezer was stocked with food he only had to microwave.

Oh God. Daddy. She couldn’t leave town, not with her dad in a coma and her house burning down. She glanced at the screen.

A blazing inferno shot up the back of the house. Plumes of thick black smoke billowed into the air. The fire was destroying every single possession: her bedroom, computer, her carefully assembled wardrobe, her dad’s rare vinyl collection, stacks of photo albums—generations’ worth of memories. Her entire life was being rendered to ash.

Her mother had loved that house. Willow had been born there.

She shut her eyes, blocking out the sight and holding back tears.

What if her dad never woke up? What if he died and she never said goodbye?

Exhaling a shuddering breath, she lurched to her feet and groped her pearls. “I have to go to the hospital. I-I-I need a cab. Can you call a cab?”

“Whoa, sweetheart.” Ken rose, holding up both gloved hands. “I don’t think Gideon wants you to leave. He wanted you to stay here, to keep you safe.”

“Gideon doesn’t care about me, and he doesn’t care about my father. I’m just a mission to him. My dad is in a coma. My house is on fire!” Hearing the words solidified them, made them terribly real. She beat back nausea and struggled to get a hold on her emotions, the only thing in the world she could control right now.

Ken removed the mask. “Calm down, sugar. We’ll talk this through.”

“There’s no time to talk. I have to go to Saint Margaret’s Hospital. Now.”

Willow stormed to the back bedroom. She knew the hospital layout from the last time her father had been admitted after his cancer had recurred. She had to get there and find a way to sneak in. There was always a way.

If she could access the in-house laundry room, maybe steal a dirty lab coat, she could pretend to be a doctor. With her changed hair, it was possible no one would recognize her.