Deadline. Metsy Hingle

dramatic image, Ronnie thought, with her booted feet planted firmly on the ground. An early-October wind whipped her mocha suede skirt against her legs and her dark hair swirled about her face and shoulders. Behind her, crash trucks zoomed by, followed by a swarm of military vehicles and more cars with flashing lights. To her left a jumbo jet bearing the American Airlines logo sat idle and detached from the jetty. Hordes of personnel flocked around the plane.

      “Tess, this is David in the Channel Seven studio. Can you give us an update of what’s going on out there at the airport?”

      “Well, David, as was reported earlier, an American Airlines flight that was en route to La Guardia Airport in New York made an emergency landing here at Reagan International around nine-fifteen this morning after a passenger on the plane informed a member of the airline’s flight crew that there was a bomb aboard the aircraft,” Tess began her report.

      “All right, go to a full screen of Tess,” Ronnie whispered.

      As though the cameraman could hear her, the monitor switched to a full-screen view and zoomed in on Tess. Holding the microphone in front of her, she ignored the noise and activity behind her and looked directly into the camera. “My sources tell me that it appears that the bomb threat was a hoax. No bomb or any explosives were found on board the plane. I’m also told that the passenger has since confessed to being despondent, having recently broken up with his girlfriend. He now says he claimed to have a bomb on board in order to get his estranged girlfriend’s attention.”

      “That’s some attention getter,” David remarked.

      “Unfortunately, it’s probably going to get him the wrong kind of attention,” Tess replied. She pushed the hair that blew across her face out of her eyes. Without missing a beat, she continued. “Because the federal authorities now have him in custody and will be charging him.”

      “Do we know who the guy is?” David asked.

      “The authorities haven’t released his name yet,” Tess said, her voice strong and sure above the scream of the wind and the noise around her. “But according to an unnamed source, the person in custody is a thirty-two-year-old male who boarded the flight in Virginia.”

      “What’s it like there inside the airport, Tess?” David asked.

      “I’d call it controlled chaos, David. As a safety precaution, two of the terminals were vacated before the American flight landed, and all incoming and departing flights were suspended.”

      “There must be a lot of unhappy travelers, not to mention some crazed ticket-counter agents,” David commented.

      “Well, as I said, it’s chaos, but it’s controlled. In addition to the displaced passengers from the American flight that was deplaned, we have a lot of passengers whose scheduled flights have been suspended. So there are a lot of people waiting inside the terminal,” Tess explained with a nod of her head to the airport complex. “And they’re unsure if, or when, they’ll be able to continue with their travels.”

      “Are tempers running high?” David asked.

      “Surprisingly, no. Most of the people that I spoke with were concerned, but very understanding. I think the feeling is that they would rather be safe than sorry.”

      “Any idea how long before flights will be under way again?”

      “The last report I received said that all flights were still suspended, but…just a moment, David.”

      While Tess pressed her free hand against her headset and listened, Ronnie studied the young woman she’d worked with for the past three years. Despite her initial misgivings when Tess had been hired, the girl had proven herself to be more than just another pretty face. She was bright, hardworking and easy to get along with—something that Ronnie couldn’t say about all of the reporters under her direction, or even the news anchors for that matter. No, Tess Abbott was a good one, she mused. While very little impressed her in this business, Tess had. Somehow the girl had managed to keep her cool and do a good job even during the circus atmosphere following her father’s suicide and her grandfather’s appearances on Capitol Hill. Never once had she brought anything personal into the newsroom. In short, Tess was a real pro. That’s why seeing the shadows under Tess’s eyes now, and remembering her distracted demeanor all week at work worried her. Something was wrong.

      “David, I’ve just been told that the airport has been cleared for incoming flights again,” Tess reported. “And all other flights will resume within the hour. It’s suggested that anyone who is either meeting an incoming flight, or scheduled to fly out this afternoon, check with the airlines first for updated arrival and departure times.”

      “Thanks, Tess.”

      She nodded. “Reporting live from Reagan International Airport in Washington, D.C., for Channel Seven News, this is Tess Abbott.”

      The screen switched from Tess back to David in the studio. “In other news today, the president addresses the nation tonight. Among the key topics will be the nation’s economy.”

      Tuning out the rest of the news report, Ronnie drummed her fingers on her desk and considered the best way to approach Tess. She liked the girl, considered her a friend. And because she did, she needed to get Tess to open up and tell her what was wrong so they could fix it. Never very good at mind games, Ronnie picked up the phone and dialed Tess’s cell phone.

      “Tess Abbott,” she answered on the third ring.

      “Tess, it’s Ronnie.”

      “Hi, Ronnie. Hang on a sec, will you?” she said. “Eddie, I’m going to head over to the theater to do the interview with that playwright. I’ll just meet you there.”

      “Do I have time to grab some lunch?” the cameraman asked.

      “As long as it’s a quick one,” Tess replied. “Okay, sorry about that, Ronnie. What’s up?”

      “Tell Eddie to take a long lunch and see if you can push your interview back a couple of hours,” Ronnie instructed.

      “Why?” Tess asked, her voice wary.

      “Because you and I are having lunch. I’ll meet you at Vincent’s in thirty minutes.”

      “What’s going on, Ronnie?” Tess demanded suspiciously.

      “That’s what I intend to find out.”

      And before Tess could argue, Ronnie hung up the phone. After making a quick stop in her office for her car keys and purse and to advise her assistant where she’d be, Ronnie headed out of the station, intent on getting some answers.

      “All right, Ronnie,” Tess said once the two of them had been seated at a table and placed their orders. “What are we doing here?”

      Ronnie reached for the basket of crackers on the table. “Well, since all I had for breakfast was coffee and a bagel, I’m hoping we’re about to have lunch because I’m starved.”

      Tess eyed her skeptically. “You and I both know that you don’t ‘do’ lunch without a reason, Veronica Hill. And if you think that by feeding me you’ll be able to convince me to pull another weekend shift as news anchor, I’ll save you the trouble. The answer is no.”

      “My, my, you are a suspicious one,” Ronnie said as she began to butter a cracker. She glanced up, looked across the table at her from behind the tortoiseshell-framed glasses. “As it so happens, the weekend news shifts are covered.”

      “All right. I’ll bite. What are we doing here then?”

      “I’m your producer. Can’t I ask you to lunch once in a while?”

      “You can, but you don’t. Not without a reason,” Tess told her.

      Ronnie sighed. “Sometimes I think you know me a little too well.”

      “It works both ways. That’s why we make a good team. So why don’t you tell me just what it is you want.”

      “I