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“Could be Jacobi.”
“He’d call me on my cell.”
My mobile rang from my handbag. I reached in and looked at the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number. Maybe, I thought, it was coming from Jacobi’s mystery date’s phone.
“Warren, are you lost?”
“Sergeant Boxer?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“This is Commander John Jordan. I’m afraid there’s been an incident. I wanted to reach you before you heard it on the news.”
My mind skittered like a needle across an old-fashioned vinyl record. This couldn’t be about that hostage crisis in Washington. Joe couldn’t have gotten there—not yet. His plane had just lifted off. I looked at the television set through the wall opening to the living room.
Talking heads had replaced the football game, and I read the breaking-news banner: CHARTER JET DOWNED IN CALIFORNIA.
Chopper footage came on, showing a green valley blemished by airplane wreckage and a blooming column of black smoke.
The commander was speaking to me, but I didn’t really hear his words. I already got it. Joe’s plane had gone down. They didn’t know what had happened, why it had blown up or simply crashed.
The lights faded to black, and I went down.
Chapter 116
I SWAM UP out of the darkness, hearing Claire talking to Cindy, feeling something cold on my forehead, Martha’s paws on my chest. My eyelids flew open. I was looking up at the ceiling of my bedroom.
Where was Joe?
Claire said, “I’m here, baby. We’re all here.”
“Joe? Is Joe…?” I wailed. “Oh no. Oh God no.”
Claire looked at me helplessly, tears rolling down her face. Cindy grabbed my hand and Yuki cried, paced, and cried some more.
I was overwhelmed with a horrible emptiness, a pain so deep, so shocking, I wanted to die. I rolled onto my side so I couldn’t see anyone and covered my head with a pillow. Sobs poured out of me.
“I’m right here, sugar,” Claire said.
“Tell everyone to go home. Please,” I said.
She didn’t answer me. The door closed, and I took Joe’s pillow in my arms and rocked myself into a sleep that was more falling down a bottomless hole than floating in a dream.
I woke up not knowing why I was drowning in dread.
“What
time is it?” I asked into the pillow.
“It’s almost five,” Claire said.
“In the afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve only been out for an hour?”
“I’m going to get you something to put you out,” she said. “I called in a prescription.”
