Page 19 of Sparking Sara

“Sorry,” I say. “She’s not dead, but she was in a serious accident.”

He closes his eyes and makes the sign of the cross in front of his body. “What happened?”

Suddenly, I remember the driver and wonder if he knew her as well. “Do you know Anna Jorgensen?”

He bites the side of his lip and looks to the ceiling in thought. “Name sounds familiar, but she’s not someone I run around with, why?”

“I’m sorry to say Anna did die in the accident.”

“That’s horrible,” he says. “I’m sorry to hear that. But Sara is okay?”

“Not exactly. She’s in the hospital in a medically induced coma due to a head injury.”

“Oh, the poor girl.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. We’re having a hard time locating her boyfriend.”

“Ollie?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Another yummy one.”

“So you know him?”

He winks at me. “Not as well as I’d like. Couldn’t you just die for that accent?”

“I’ve never talked to him. Uh, I don’t even know Sara. I was at the scene of the accident. I’m just trying to locate him. Do you know how I can find him?”

He stands up and walks over to the counter to grab his phone. “I should hope so. He’s an art dealer. It’s how they met. He’s the person rich people hire when they want a nice piece. He visits their home, sees their space, finds out what kind of people they are, and then he finds a painting for them, or in Sara’s case, an artist to create one.”

He shows me Oliver’s contact information and I type it into my phone.

“Thank you,” I say, standing up and handing him my tea. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’ll let me know how Sara is?”

“Of course,” I say, getting his number, too.

Before I reach the front door, he calls out to me. “Denver?”

I turn around and raise my brow.

“If all you needed was Ollie’s number, why all the interest in Sara’s paintings?”

I think about his question before shrugging a shoulder. “Just curious, I guess.”

On my way to the hospital, I wonder what I should say to Oliver. I haven’t had a serious girlfriend in a while, not since Kendall dumped me back in Kansas City a few months after my arrest. But before that, we dated for several years. She helped me get through the death of my parents. And I know it would have been hard to get a phone call like this about her.

I imagine Oliver will feel the same way I did when I got that awful call about my parents. I decide it’s best to handle things similarly and not tell him the full extent of her injuries.

I sit down on a bench outside the hospital and dial his number. It goes straight to voicemail, where I hear the accent Davis mentioned. Oliver sounds British, but it’s not a heavy accent, like maybe he’s lived most of his life in the states.

“You’ve reached Oliver Compton,” his message says. “Leave a message and I’ll ring you back.”

“Mr. Compton, my name is Denver Andrews. I’m calling about Sara. She was in a car accident a few days ago and is currently in the hospital. Please call me at this number as soon as you can.” I quickly go over the words in my mind and wonder if that will freak him out. “Uh, she’s not dead, but … well, just call me.”

I hang up the phone, thinking how awkward that was. I probably shouldn’t have been the one to do that. Maybe I should have let the doctors handle it.

On my way to the elevator, I pass by the gift shop. And I’m not sure why, but I stop and get a vase of flowers. I mean, Sara’s not even awake to see them. But I feel bad that no one has bothered to send her anything. I’d hate for her to wake up and think that no one cares.

When I approach the nurses’ station on the sixth floor, Krista comes over to greet me. She looks at what I’m carrying. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Flowers aren’t allowed in the ICU rooms.”

---