“And if they do, then they may not come after me. I can’t take that chance. This needs to be over.”
“I’m good. They’d never know. I swear that—”
“No,” she said sharply. “You heard Biers. He said they’re probably torturing Charles. He’s trying to do something that’s going to save the lives of millions of people, and they’re hurting him.”
“I realize that,” Jessie said. “And I know how much that’s hurting you. But we can go about it another way. Let’s scrap all we talked about. Just give me a little time.” She paused. “Or let me call Lynch.”
“No way. Don’t keep bringing it up. I’m not waiting. I can’t wait. Monitor that device. When you see where they take me, bring in the troops.”
“And what if we’re too late?” Her voice was suddenly rough. “For God’s sake, you could die today, Kendra.”
“Then you’d better make sure you’re not too late.” She drew a deep breath. “But if you are, none of it will be your fault, Jessie. I know you’re right. I know that what you’re saying is reasonable, but I can’t be reasonable right now. I owe Charles too much. I can’t stand the thought of their hurting him, perhaps even killing him, because I waited too long.”
Jessie was silent. “Crazy.” She cleared her throat. “But I see where you’re coming from. I just hate it. Call me if you change your mind.” She hung up.
Yes, Jessie would understand, Kendra thought as she hung up. She came from a military background and was aware of the duties to family and comrades. And Charles Waldridge was so much more than a comrade to Kendra.
You could die today, Kendra.
That was also true. One faced possible death every day from accidents or illness, but it wasn’t often that you knew that you might be seeking it out.
Rye had not known he would find death that night, but he must have realized it might come. Yet he had faced it alone, with no good-byes, like a drop of rainwater merging into a great ocean.
She did not want to be that drop of rainwater. She would do everything she could to stay alive, but she would not leave the people she loved with no good-byes.
She had two hours before her next therapy appointment. Make them count. She sat down at her desk and pulled out a piece of stationary. She started to write.
My dear Olivia,
I hope we’ll sit down and laugh when I pull this letter out of the drawer in a week or so. You’ll probably make fun of me, then you’ll get angry that I did something that I thought this might be necessary. But just in case, my friend, I wanted to tell you how much you’ve meant to me through all these years. You were the light in my darkness, the warmth when I was cold, the humor when I took myself too seriously. And so many other things that made my life worth living …
It was almost twilight.
All the therapy sessions completed. Everything she’d planned to do was done. Time to close up the studio for the day.
Only one more thing to do before she left the studio. No letter for her mother. Kendra wanted to hear her voice.
She dialed the number at the hotel in Denver where her mother was attending her seminar.
Noise.
Voices.
Then Dianne came on the line. “Kendra, I meant to call you, but things are so busy here. No one I called at the universities in England know anything about Waldridge, but I’ll still keep—”
“It’s okay, Mom. Lynch is over there now, and he’ll take care of it.”
“Have you heard from Waldridge?”
“Not yet. I just wanted to ask how things were going at the seminar.”
Silence. “What difference does it make how things are going here?” Dianne asked. “Why are you even asking? I know you must be sick with worry about Waldridge. No progress at all?”
“We’ve found out a few things that might be promising. And your seminar is important, everything you do is important to me.” She tried to keep her voice light. “Why shouldn’t it be? When I should have been the bane of your life, you made me feel that I was always special and loved. You said you remembered that day that I first saw your face, Mom. I remember it, too.” That day was suddenly with her once again, and she could see Dianne walking toward her at Piccadilly Circus. “I don’t think I told you, but I thought, ‘This must be what love looks like.’ Pretty soppy, huh?”
“Kendra, what the hell is wrong?”
She’d better get off the phone quickly. Dianne was too smart not to pick up on any false notes, and Kendra was dropping them right and left. “And then you told me I had to call Waldridge and let him join us. I’ll always remember we were there together. He was almost as important to you as he was to me.”
“Why do you sound like this? Has something happened to Waldridge?”