The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(35)

“I just moved. I haven’t had time to change it yet.” Her pulse quickened as she became nervous. “What’s going on?”

He handed her back her license. “May I come inside for a moment?”

She hesitated. “I guess so.” She led Detective McHenry into the apartment. Inside, McHenry noted the many photographs featuring Jacob and Skylar.

“You’re kind of freaking me out, Detective. Would you tell me what’s going on?”

“I think you might want to have a seat.”

“I don’t want to sit.” She started to panic. “Did something happen to Jacob?” McHenry took a deep breath and looked at her sadly. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

His eyes told her everything, and then he confirmed it. “No.”

“Oh my God.” She sat down at the kitchen table, practically collapsing in the chair. Her hands were shaking.

McHenry sat down across from her, swallowing hard as he struggled to say the words properly. “Jacob Hendrix is gone.”

She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. She couldn’t have. Her words came out rapidly. “What do you mean, ‘gone’? What kind of gone?”

McHenry stared at the table, then slowly raised his gaze to Skylar. “Jacob is dead.”

“What?” She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. It was too much to process. She started to feel light-headed.

He paused to let her catch her breath. “There was a terrorist incident in the Sheridan Square subway station.”

All she could think was to blame herself for not listening to the radio on her way home. For not wondering why so many streets had been blocked off nearby, making it nearly impossible to get home. She should have put two and two together. Dammit! “What happened?”

“It appears to have been some kind of gas attack. We’re not sure.”

“How many people died?”

“We don’t know yet. A lot of people are being treated in area hospitals. Mr. Hendrix is one of two confirmed fatalities so far. It appears he tripped or was pushed in all the commotion. It’s too early to know for sure. But, somehow, he ended up on the tracks in front of an oncoming train.” He said it as gently as he could, but it still came out like a diesel-powered sledgehammer.

Tears streamed down Skylar’s face as her mind went reeling. She refused to believe it. “How can this . . . I was just talking to him as he was walking into the station. We got cut off.”

“We’re still interviewing witnesses, trying to determine exactly what happened.”

The blood drained from Skylar’s tear-soaked face. She went numb, trying to remember their last conversation. What was the last thing she said to him? What was the last thing Jacob heard from her? It was all jumbled. In this moment, she could only remember bits and pieces.

Detective McHenry continued. “All we know at this point is that there were two students with him. One was pretty badly shaken up.”

Skylar stared vacantly at the surface of the table. Her voice was distant. “Only one of them was his student.”

McHenry looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Only one was his student.” She sounded a thousand miles away.

“How do you know?”

“Jacob told me on the phone.”

McHenry nodded. “Ms. Drummond, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s doctor. Dr. Drummond.” She turned and looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m such an asshole.” She sobbed heavily as guilt, sadness, and regret began to overwhelm her. There was so much she hadn’t said. So much she hadn’t done. Jacob was devoted, loving, intelligent, sexy, and fun. Everything. All he had wanted was to make her happy. All he had asked for was a modest commitment in return. What is wrong with me? she wondered. What the hell is wrong with me?!

McHenry knew not to say anything. Almost everyone regretted not saying or doing something after a loved one died. It was only natural.

“Do you know if he died right away?”

McHenry nodded. “I can assure you he didn’t suffer.”

Skylar stared at him vacantly, barely able to process what she was hearing. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can only imagine how hard this must be.” He stood, pointing to his business card on the kitchen table. “This has all my numbers. You can reach me anytime, day or night.”

She nodded mechanically. She couldn’t imagine why she would ever call him.

“May I have a phone number in case I need to reach you?”

“Why would you need to reach me?”

“You never know if you might be able to help us with the investigation.”

She jotted down her number on the back of an envelope and handed it to him.

He pocketed the envelope. “Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

It was only after he closed the door that she really allowed herself to feel what had just happened. Skylar burst into tears and cried like she hadn’t cried since her younger brother died, over ten years ago.





CHAPTER 29

American Heritage Foundation, Alexandria, Virginia, May 25, 7:21 a.m.

Early the next morning, Bob Stenson walked briskly toward the conference room inside the American Heritage Foundation. He carried three newspapers, all of which featured multiple stories about the apparent terrorist attack in the New York City subway station. The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and the Washington Post all had extensive coverage, with wide-ranging theories, but nothing conclusive. The incident was too fresh. The investigation too new.