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“What the fuck?” I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Willa. It went straight to voicemail.
The newscaster said several people were being taken to Mount Sinai for injuries. I started to panic as I called Louis and told him to bring the car around.
“What’s going on, Damien?” he asked as I slid into the back.
“Get me to Mount Sinai.” I tried calling Willa again, and it kept going to voicemail. “Damn it.”
I raced into the emergency room and went up to the desk.
“People were brought in from a building fire on Murray Street. I need to know if my wife is here. I can’t get a hold of her.”
“What is your wife’s name? the nurse behind the desk asked.
“Willa Blackwood.”
“I’m sorry. But there isn’t a Willa Blackwood listed.”
“Try Willa Aster.”
“Yes. What is your wife’s birthdate?”
Shit.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know your wife’s birthdate?” She cocked her head.
“It’s complicated. Where is she?” I demanded to know.
“Yeah, sorry, sir. Unless you’re related, you can’t go back there.”
“She is my wife!” I shouted.
“Sure, she is. And please lower your voice. She gave us a different last name, and you don’t know your wife’s birthdate.”
I inhaled a sharp breath so I didn’t lose my shit.
“I am her husband. Since you don’t believe, go ask her yourself because I am not leaving until I see my wife.”
“Give me a moment.” She stood up, scanned her badge, and walked through the double security doors.
A few moments later, she returned.
“I apologize, Mr. Blackwood. She’s in room nine. Go through the doors, make a right at the end of the hall, and her room is on the left.”
“Thank you.”
I located room nine and paused in the doorway, gazing at Willa as she lay in bed with an oxygen tube in her nose.
“Willa, are you okay?” I ran to her bedside and gripped her hand.
“I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was sleeping, and suddenly I heard the smoke alarms going off. So, I climbed out of bed, and the apartment was filled with smoke.”
“Did the fire start in your apartment?”