Free Fall. Rick Mofina

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.

      Nine

      Manhattan, New York

      Kate waited alone in Newslead’s corner meeting room.

      Looking out at the majestic view of Midtown’s skyscrapers, the Chrysler and Empire State buildings, she reflected.

      It had been three years since she’d started working at headquarters for Chuck and she thought about everything that she’d reported on in that time: all the crime, disasters, tragedies, investigations. And with most stories, especially those where she’d dealt face-to-face with victims and their anguished families—I’m so sorry but would you have a picture of your son-daughter-wife-husband-brother-sister-loved-one you could share with us?—she’d given a piece of her soul.

      In her heart, she was honored to be part of Newslead because of its history of excellence in journalism, and it troubled her that its integrity was being eroded. But Chuck’s return gave her hope and reason to reconsider leaving, because if anyone could restore morale and rebuild the newsroom it was Chuck Laneer.

      A shadow fell across the room.

      “Good morning, Kate.”

      She felt as if the air had suddenly been poisoned. Sloane flashed his brilliant grin, set his notebook and coffee down then took a seat across the table from her.

      “What’re you doing here?” she asked.

      “I could ask you the same question.”

      He sipped his coffee casually. Reeka entered the room, wearing a navy power suit, her face focused on her phone, thumbs a blur. She completed a message, then looked at Kate.

      “Did you send me your overtime sheet?”

      “I’ll do that today.”

      “Okay, everybody.”

      Chuck arrived and shut the door, prompting Sloane to paste on a smile, stand and extend his hand.

      “Mr. Laneer, welcome. Sloane F. Parkman. We haven’t met but I’m more than aware of your legendary status in the news craft.”

      “It’s