Читать книгу Free Fall - Rick Mofina - Страница 14

Eight

Manhattan, New York

Kate woke up angry.

In the shower she scrubbed until her skin reddened, as if she could wash away yesterday’s indignation.

I can’t believe what Sloane and Reeka did. Are they setting me up to get rid of me?

Toweling off, she tried to calm down but it was futile.

Senior management knew about Reeka’s incompetence, her arrogance and her mean-spiritedness, but they were afraid to do anything about her because of her family connection to the board. And now here she was building her own fiefdom with minion jerks like Sloane.

Kate had had enough.

I could leave Newslead.

Sure, news jobs were scarce, but she had friends at Bloomberg and Reuters who could help her land something.

I could call them today.

Still, the thought of walking away from a news agency she revered, a job she loved, of leaving behind all that she’d strived for, everything she’d invested, not only saddened her—it sickened her.

I’m not going to give it all up because of Reeka. I bled to get here.

As she wiped the steam from the mirror Kate looked back on the tragedies and triumphs of her life. After her parents had died in a hotel fire when she was seven, she and her little sister, Vanessa, had lived with relatives for a while, and then in foster homes. One summer, they’d been on vacation in British Columbia with their foster parents, driving through the Canadian Rockies, when their car went off the road and crashed into a river. That moment still burned in Kate’s memory.

The car sinking...rolling...windows breaking...the icy water...grabbing Vanessa’s hand...pulling her free...to the surface...the frigid current numbing her...fingers loosening...Vanessa slipping away...disappearing...

Kate survived.

The bodies of her foster parents had washed up on the riverbank, but Vanessa’s body hadn’t been found. Searchers had reasoned that it had got wedged in the rocks downstream, but Kate had never given up believing that Vanessa had somehow gotten out of the river.

In the time following the tragedy, Kate had bounced through the foster system until she’d eventually run away, spending most of her teen years on the street or in youth homes, while keeping a journal and wondering about the little sister she’d lost. Kate had managed to get back into school, and eventually pursued her love of writing. She took any job she could get to put herself through community college where she’d studied journalism, then found work in newsrooms across the country.

In San Francisco, she’d become pregnant by a man who’d lied to her about being married. He’d offered to pay for an abortion before dumping her. That had been the end of that. Kate had kept her baby, a girl she’d named Grace. She’d moved to Ohio and worked at a newspaper in Canton for several good years before downsizing cost her that job. But she never gave up. She got a short-term reporting position in Dallas with Newslead and did outstanding work there, which impressed Chuck Laneer. He offered her a job as a national correspondent at Newslead’s world headquarters in Manhattan.

Kate knew how blessed she was to have the Newslead job, and to have her daughter and sister in her life.

We’ve all come a long way.

For some twenty years, Kate had never given up searching for Vanessa, even during her darkest moments. The day Vanessa was found after she’d been held captive, the day they were reunited, was a day that had changed them both forever.

Now it had been more than two years since her sister had been back in her life, living with her and Grace. Vanessa had proven to be unbreakable. Her therapy was helping her heal and she’d gotten her high school diploma. She was working as a waitress and taking business courses, determined to open her own restaurant one day.

The book that Kate and Vanessa had written together on their lost years had done well, providing Vanessa with some savings and Kate with a college fund for Grace.

We’re hanging in there.

Kate glanced at the time. She was running late.

Pulling on her robe, she went down the hall to Grace’s room, taking in the stuffed bears and bunnies, the posters of Harry Styles and Justin Bieber. The corkboard held Kate’s favorite item: a drawing of three stick people with enormous smiles entitled “Mommy, Aunt Vanessa and Me.” The newest was a picture of Grace in the planetarium at the Vanderbilt Museum. She’d written on the bottom: “I want to live on a star.” She’s growing up too fast, Kate thought, as she gazed upon her sleeping daughter. She bent over the bed, gently brushed Grace’s hair aside and kissed her cheek, causing her to stir.

“Time to get up and get ready for school, kid.”

Grace moaned and pulled the sheets over her head.

“You better get moving, kiddo, or you’re gonna be late. Okay?”

Kate patted her leg. Grace’s head nodded under the covers and Kate returned to her room to get dressed. But she paused. She needed to know how the competition had done on EastCloud Flight 4990. She checked the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Post, the Daily News and the other wires.

I’ve been pushed off this story. Why do I care?

Because deep down it was her story.

She had an emotional connection to it. The image of Diane Wilson’s farewell video to her family burned in Kate’s mind as she tried to imagine the horror of what the people on that flight had faced. One moment you’re living your life. The next moment you’re falling from the sky, expecting to die.

What happened to that plane?

No one had broken any new angles on the story. She put her phone down, finished dressing and went to the kitchen where Vanessa was working on her laptop, concentrating behind her glasses, hair curtained to one side. For a moment Kate acknowledged some facts of her sister’s tragedy. She had not just been found, she’d been a prisoner before she was rescued, and the man who’d held her all those years had allowed her to read. In fact, he’d given her all kinds of books—novels, text books, encyclopedias and dictionaries. Books had become her lifeline. Her reading and comprehension skills were remarkable, the therapists had said. Despite her nightmare, her lost years and everything that she’d endured, Vanessa had emerged a poised, self-assured, beautiful young woman, Kate thought.

“You’re up early,” Kate said.

“Got a test coming. I need to study.”

“Commerce?”

“Economics. I made some raspberry tea.”

“Thanks. I could use it.”

“You got back later than we expected. How’d things go for you yesterday?”

“Awful. I’m thinking of leaving Newslead. The place is falling apart.”

Vanessa looked up from her work, pushed her hair back.

“But you love it there. You’re devoted to that place.”

Hands cupped around her mug, Kate shook her head, sipped some tea and told Vanessa about her ordeal. When Kate finished, Vanessa considered the matter then said, “You don’t want to quit over this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re bigger than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just let it go.”

“But what happened is wrong on so many levels, and I don’t see it getting better.”

“It all comes down to bumper sticker clichés, Kate. ‘What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.’ Suck it up, step back and look at where we’ve been and where we are now. You’re tougher than Sloane and Reeka and you know it.”

Absorbing Vanessa’s suggestion, Kate caressed the guardian angel necklace she always wore as she looked to the wall, at the framed cover of the book they’d written together: Echo In My Heart: A Relentless Story of Love, Loss and Survival. For years, Vanessa had been locked up by a madman, and Kate had helped rescue her. Through it all, neither of them had quit and neither of them had given up hope. Vanessa was Kate’s inspiration.

“You make a good point,” Kate said.

“Think it over. I’ve got to get dressed.”

Vanessa smiled before she left. Alone in the kitchen, Kate couldn’t suppress her need to know more about EastCloud Flight 4990. She got on her phone and again researched the plane. Again, as far as she could tell, the Richlon-TitanRT-86 was a new model, without any known history of major problems. The crew said it was a malfunction, not turbulence. And in its statement, EastCloud had said the flight had “encountered a situation on its approach into New York.”

Kate was mulling over what she knew when her phone vibrated with a text from Tara Lawson, a reporter at Newslead.

OMG the rumors were true! Chuck Laneer is back!

What? This a joke, Tara?

I’m looking at him in his office now! Maybe he can save us all?

Kate’s spirits soared. Chuck was back. This changed everything.

“Mom? Did you hear me?”

Kate looked from her phone to Grace.

“Can I get new shoes, pink ones like Amber got?”

“No, sweetie. The shoes you have are still new. Maybe in the fall.”

“But Mom! Did you see Amber’s shoes? They’re so amazing!”

“Did you remember to clean the sink when you finished?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want for breakfast, something quick?”

“Toast with honey.”

“Okay, remember your chore today—you water the plants while I fix your toast. Want orange juice or milk?”

“Milk.”

“Milk what?”

“Milk, please and thank you.”

As Kate prepared her daughter’s breakfast, her phone vibrated with another text. This one was from Chuck Laneer, and in typical Chuck fashion, he got straight to the point.

Hey Kate. As you no doubt heard, I’m back. Want to meet with you ASAP to discuss the Flight 4990 story.

I’ll be there within an hour.

Sooner would be better.

Welcome back, Chuck.