Fair Warning. Hannah Alexander
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“What’s going on?”
Willow stepped into the hospital parking lot behind Ginger and immediately spotted a sign that advertised lodging.
“Are there several hotels or motels near here?”
“Are you kidding?” Ginger gave a snort that was barely ladylike. “Honey, you’ve got hundreds of rooms within walking distance, depending on how fast you walk and what kind of shape you’re in.” The freckled redhead gave Willow an appraising look over the top of her glasses, then nodded with satisfaction. “From the looks of it, you could walk a few miles to get here if need be, but Graham was hoping you’d stay with us at the house, and I’d love—”
“He didn’t tell you that I’m planning to stay near the hospital to be with Preston as much as possible?” Willow asked.
“He did mention that, but since Graham drives into town every day you could easily come in with him.”
“I like to be able to come and go in my own car. Graham says you live in Hideaway.”
“That’s right.”
“It’s a long way to Hideaway from here.” Willow wasn’t in the mood to move in with complete strangers, even if those strangers seemed trustworthy.
She’d trusted before—trusted that as long as she and Travis were doing God’s will, they would not have to worry about enduring any of the shocking tragedies that so often took people by surprise. She now felt foolish for holding that irrational belief.
“As the crow flies, Hideaway isn’t terribly far from here,” Ginger said.
“I’m not a crow.”
“The drive isn’t that bad. You could get to the hospital from Hideaway in forty minutes—thirty if you catch the traffic right. Believe me, you’d be more than welcome to stay with us.”
The woman was a bit pushy. Willow slowed her steps and fixed Ginger with a look. “You need to understand that I won’t be doing that. While I appreciate the offer, my answer is no. Please don’t argue with me.” With some people it was necessary to establish her boundaries in the beginning. If they didn’t like it, they could move on and rescue someone else.
To her surprise, Ginger chuckled. “Well, I see you’re a lady who knows her own mind. Good. But as my brother reminds me often enough, I’m a nag. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Now let’s enjoy the morning.”
Willow caught sight of a motel marquee down the street that announced vacancies. “I think I’ll see if I can get a room over there. At least for a while.” She refused to think of the multiple reasons she should accept Ginger’s offer.
As she’d told Graham and the fireman that had interviewed her earlier, those streaks of flame she’d seen rushing toward the house—like fuses racing to a bomb—had definitely raised her suspicions and already found their way into her nightmare.
Those weren’t just naturally occurring phenomena. They had a direction, an object of attack. She had seen headlights in the forest beyond the apartment complex. Someone else had been out there. She didn’t need any further investigation to tell her that much.
She didn’t want to be alone right now, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to move in with strangers. The fireman had informed her that there had been two other fires last night, and theirs had most likely been a random attack. As soon as they found the perpetrator, all would be settled.
Too bad she couldn’t convince herself of that. She wasn’t up to being logical this early in the morning with so little sleep after barely escaping with her life.
But she was a grown woman, able to take care of herself. She didn’t need keepers.
She would go shopping with Ginger, enjoy the female company and buy some things she desperately needed. Then she would rent a room and settle in.
Graham listened to Preston’s worries with growing concern. “Willow’s husband was murdered?”
Preston shifted in his bed and took another ice chip. “He was killed in the line of duty during a drug raid, but Willow isn’t convinced his death had anything to do with the drug raid.”
“What does she think happened?”
“She’s convinced of some kind of conspiracy, either within the department or from an old enemy from another case. The trajectory of the bullet was wrong, and the bullet didn’t match any of the firearms confiscated after the raid.”
“I’m sure there was an investigation, right?” Graham asked.
“Of course. No other shooter was found. It was decided that one of the perpetrators must have gotten away. End of case. But Willow can’t accept it. Ever since Travis’s death, she hasn’t been herself.”
Graham could tell the poor guy was miserable, but his heightened concern for Willow kept him vigilant even now, with the aftereffects of the surgery. “You’re saying she still has some major emotional issues connected to her husband’s death?”
“To put it mildly.” Preston’s eyes closed, and he grimaced with pain. “And that’s not the only problem.”
“We need to see about getting you some more medication,” Graham said.
Preston sighed and nodded. “Okay, but please, please watch Willow for any signs of trouble.” He caught his breath, then moaned softly.
“I’ll make sure she’s safe, though I don’t have to tell you how independent she can be.” Graham motioned for the surgical ICU nurse.
Preston opened his eyes again, and this time Graham could plainly see the fear in them. “Everyone knows that when a person is having some kind of emotional problem, they try to make sure that the last thing it affects is their job. Well, Willow lost her job six months ago.”
“She was fired?”
“No, she quit. She hasn’t worked as a nurse since. After her husband’s death she started talking about these…bad dreams. She insists her husband’s murderer is after her, and believe me, after what just happened, she’s even got me spooked, and I should know better.”
The nurse joined them and made note of Preston’s vitals, then looked at Graham expectantly. “You wanted to see me, Doctor?”
“Yes. Did Dr. Glessner leave orders for pain meds? Mr. Black is having some pain.”
“Of course. I’ll set it up immediately.”
As soon as she left, Preston reached for more ice, then fell back against the pillow. “You probably need to know this. Willow was pregnant when Travis died.”
“She was?” That would be doubly tragic, for a child to be on the way when the father is killed.
“About a month after he died,” Preston continued, “Willow was leaving work one morning after a long night and walked out in front of a car. It hit her and knocked her down. She lost the baby. She was convinced someone ran her down intentionally.”
“Did they?”
“I don’t know. She was irrational by the time I got to her in the hospital, out of her mind with grief, so I wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe, at the time, I was so overwhelmed myself with the situation that I wasn’t willing to consider her suspicions.”
Graham felt a surge of sympathy for the woman who had endured so much tragedy. Now it was obvious why she held everyone at arm’s length. He’d be suspicious, too, if he’d gone through that.
“One good thing about all this,” Preston continued as the nurse returned with his medicine. “Willow happened to be awake last night, or we’d probably both be dead.”
“Has she said anything more about what woke her?”
“We didn’t have a chance to talk about it. She’s been too