Daddy's Gone a Hunting

11

Despite her father’s urging to go home and get some rest, Hannah firmly insisted on being dropped off at her office across town on West Thirty-second Street. “The company is planning a press release to announce a new designer’s line,” she said. She did not mention that the new line would have her name on it.

At the corner of her office building, she opened the cab door and gave Doug a peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you the minute I hear anything. I promise.”

“Are you going back to the hospital tonight?”

“Yes. And unless the doctor calls and there’s a reason to go earlier, I’ll get there around seven.”

The tap of the horn from the car behind them made Hannah realize that she was holding up the traffic. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said hurriedly as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The busy street, packed with pedestrians shoulder to shoulder and racks of clothes being ferried from one building to another, was a sight that Hannah usually loved, but today it offered no comfort to her. Though it was not raining, the raw, damp wind made her hurry into the building.

Luther, the security guard, was at the lobby desk. “How is your sister, Ms. Connelly?” he asked. After the media crush outside the hospital, Hannah had realized that the fire was breaking news and she needed to be prepared to answer questions about it and about Kate.

“She was gravely injured,” she said quietly. “We can only pray that she will make it.” She felt as though she could read Luther’s mind. What was Kate doing in that place at that hour? Without giving him time to ask her anything else, Hannah moved quickly to the elevator. It was only when she got to her office and dealt with the surprised reactions of her fellow workers that she realized that no one had expected to see her today.

Farah Zulaikha, the company’s head designer, tried to send her home. “We’re putting off the announcement for a better time, Hannah,” she said. “There’s going to be a lot of publicity about the fire for at least a few days. Some people who live near the East River told me they could see the flames from their windows.”

Hannah insisted on staying. She told her that it was better to be here than just sitting in the hospital or at her apartment. But once she was in her small and cluttered office with the door shut, she sat at her desk and buried her face in her hands. I don’t know what to do, she thought. I don’t know where to turn. If Kate doesn’t make it, or if she lives but is brain damaged, she won’t be able to defend herself if they try to say she was responsible for setting off the explosion.

How many times in the last year or so had Kate openly said that the plant should be closed and the property sold? All our friends knew it, Hannah thought. Kate and I each own 10 percent of the assets, but every quarter for two years we’ve been running at a loss. Thank God we had enough in dividends to buy our apartments when we did.

Did Kate use the words “blow it up” to anyone other than Dad?

The doctor heard him say that.

But why would she want to blow the whole place up with priceless antiques in it? It doesn’t make any sense.

That thought gave Hannah a measure of comfort. But then, with a sinking heart, she remembered that there was a $20 million insurance policy on the antiques alone.

She had recently seen the video of a car racing down the highway with the driver twisting and turning to avoid a crash. The woman had made a call to 911 and was screaming, “I can’t stop it! I can’t stop it!”

That was the way Hannah’s mind felt now, racing from one fearful possibility to the other. Suppose the explosion was an accident, and it was just a coincidence that Kate and Gus were there when it had occurred. Was that so impossible? Even at four thirty in the morning? But why would Kate have met Gus?

Five years ago Jack Worth said it was time to retire Gus, that it was clear that with the tremor in his hands and his increasingly poor vision, he simply couldn’t do the job anymore. Gus had been angry and had gotten nasty even when Kate had insisted he receive a year’s salary as a bonus. He and Kate remained good friends.

Oh God, there has to be a reasonable explanation. Kate would never commit a crime to get money. I know her too well. I can’t believe that I’d even consider that possibility, Hannah thought. She pushed back her chair. What am I doing here? I have to go back to the hospital. I have to be there with her.

Hannah said good-bye to the others in the office with the simple statement, “I’ll call you if anything changes.” She had turned off her cell phone in the hospital and had forgotten to turn it on until now. She checked her messages. There were a dozen calls from their friends and from Kate’s boss and coworkers. All of them expressed shock and concern. Three of the calls were from Jessie. “Hannah, call me,” she had said.

I’ll wait to call Jessie until I see Kate again, Hannah thought. Is it possible that it was just last night that Jessie and I had such a good time celebrating that I had my own label? Does that matter anymore? Does anything matter if Kate doesn’t recover?

When Hannah got to the hospital she was told to go to the ICU waiting room, that Dr. Patel would meet her there. But when she opened the door, someone else was standing at the window, her back to Hannah. One glance at Jessie’s flaming red hair and Hannah was able to release the fear that kept building up inside her.

A moment later, sobbing and shaking, she was enveloped in Jessie’s arms.