Protecting Her(97)

I look out the window and check on the boys. They’re tossing the football to each other, running around the back yard. Garret’s smile is back, now that I’m home and now that he knows his mother will be home shortly.

He was so excited when I told him we’d go to the diner. It’s in a small college town. We usually only go there for his birthday, but he likes it so much we should take him there more often.

I check the clock. It’s almost five. Rachel should be on the plane by now. They probably took off ten or fifteen minutes ago.

I bring my suitcase downstairs and store it back in the closet. Then I go in the kitchen and get a glass of water and sit at the kitchen table. The boys are yelling and laughing out back.

The phone rings and I get up to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Is this Pearce Kensington?” It’s a man’s voice.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Officer Lander from the Virginia State Patrol.”

I freeze, my heart beating faster, my stomach clenching as I take short, shallow breaths.

“What is it, officer?” I can barely get the words out, my heart now thundering in my chest because this is all too familiar to the phone call I received years ago regarding Rachel’s parents. An officer called. And he sounded very serious. Just like the man I’m talking to now.

It’s not the same, I tell myself. It can’t be. It’s not.

“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this…”

No! Stop! I want him to stop. Please stop. I don’t want to hear anymore.

But he can’t hear my begging. My internal pleas.

He continues, but I only hear certain words. Certain phrases.

“…there was an accident….plane went down…soon after takeoff…”

Stop. Please stop.

“…went up in flames…no survivors…”

Oh, God. No. Please, no. Please. It isn’t real. This isn’t real.

“…investigating the cause…will let you know…anyone you’d like us to call…”

I try to breathe, but I can’t. I’m gasping for breath, my lungs constricted from the agony of his words. I can’t think. I don’t know if I’m awake or if this is some horrible nightmare.

“Mr. Kensington? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” I hold the phone to my ear. “I…I just…how did this happen?”

“We won’t know until the investigators have had time to go through the wreckage.”

I cringe at the word ‘wreckage,’ imagining a mangled plane and dead bodies everywhere. “You’re sure there are no survivors?”

“It went up in flames after impact,” he says solemnly. “I’m sorry.”

No. God, no. Please, no.

“Do you need me to call anyone? Other family members?”

“No,” I manage to say.

“We’ll get back to you as soon as we learn more about the crash. Let me give you my number in case you have any questions. Do you have a pen?”

“Not now. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I understand. I’m very sorry for your loss. Goodbye, Mr. Kensington.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


21


PEARCE

I drop the phone, my whole body trembling as I sob into my hands. How could this happen? There must be a mistake. She was fine. Everything was fine. It was more than fine. It was good. Perfect. Everything was perfect. She’d get home early. We’d have dinner with our son. Then we’d go to bed and I’d kiss her goodnight and she’d fall asleep in my arms, like she always does.

This can’t be true. It can’t be. She’ll be home. We’ll go pick her up. And then she’ll come home.

The officer was incorrect. He had his facts wrong. He was confused. It was someone else. Not her.

I race to the family room and grab the remote. I find a news channel and see fire and smoke coming from the middle of an open field. I see the edge of something. A wing. The wing of a small private plane.

“Oh God. No.” I back up and sit on the couch, my eyes not leaving the screen. On the bottom it reads, ‘Private plane goes down in Virginia field. Senator Paul Wingate killed.’

I turn up the volume and the newswoman says, “…no survivors. Given the severity of the crash, it’s believed the people on board died on impact. Senator Wingate was heading to Hartford for an event tomorrow and was accompanied by his press secretary and two speech writers. Also on the plane was Rachel Kensington, wife of billionaire Pearce Kensington.”