Page 68 of Airborne
“Since when did they mean so much to you?”
He wished he had an answer. “Nothing’s changed there. My goal is to know how she feels about my involvement in the virus. One look into her eyes will tell me the truth.”
Javier yawned. “You didn’t answer my question, or maybe you did.”
Chad ended the conversation. He opened his closet door and yanked out clothes. No point in going back to bed for a couple of hours. He was wide-awake.
Javier wasn’t the only person who’d want to know why he had to check on Heather. He loved her, which meant he had to keep up the facade of separating himself from her. What morsel of truthmade the most sense? Their child? Responsibility? Loneliness? Clear his name and resume his career goals?
His phone rang and he grabbed it. Number unrecognizable.
“Chad Lawrence?” a distorted voice said.
“This is he.”
“Cancel your flight to New York.”
“Who is this?”
“Get on the plane and you’ll regret it.”
“You have the nerve to threaten me.” Chad pressed End.
Chad clicked his seat belt for the flight to JFK in New York. His patience level registered at nonexistence. The flight arrangements had been confirmed after 3a.m. when the FBI finally gave their consent. He’d fought hard—and persistence won. He had pulled an Astros baseball cap over his eyes and wore jeans and a long-sleeved green camouflage T-shirt. His own mother wouldn’t recognize him. He arranged for a taxi to transport him to the airport.
Javier’s warning of what an irate person could do whispered danger, but a force stronger than himself pressed him on. He needed to support Heather, make sure she and the baby survived the emergency surgery. Her welfare took precedence over his own life, even if no one ever learned the truth about his promise to Paul’s widow.
The caller’s threat echoed—someone who knew he planned to board this flight. Technology boasted of ways to spy on people, and software made it happen. To toss out his phone for a new one broke his trust with Javier. As if he owed the man a concession. Once in New York, he’d borrow Jordan’s phone, contact Javier, then dispose of his current device.
Could the caller have been the one responsible for the virus? Someone out for revenge? In any event, the person had the meansto monitor Chad’s actions. He looked behind him, forward, and on both sides. What did a criminal look like?
While on the tarmac, he phoned Jamaica Hospital and requested an update. He stated he was Heather’s husband, but that got him nowhere. Jordan’s latest text said the surgery had taken longer than expected, and she rested in recovery. The procedure should have been completed long before now.
“Mr. Lawrence,” a nurse from OR said, “your wife is in ICU.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “What’s her condition?”
Before the nurse could respond, a flight attendant requested Chad turn off his phone. But he ignored her for the second time. “Why is Heather in ICU?”
“Sir,” the nurse said, “I suggest you contact her doctor.”
He hadn’t asked Jordan for the doctor’s number.
The attendant bent over him. “This is the last time I’ll ask you to place your phone on airplane mode. Please do it now.”
Chad obliged before the flight attendant kicked him off the plane for not adhering to the rules. A qualified medical team surrounded Heather, and Jordan was with her.
He closed his eyes. He regretted the physical dangers of Heather’s job, the emotional stress of their relationship, the pregnancy, the horror of H9N15, and now emergency surgery. The same persistent questions beat against him. Had he been mistaken to leave her when he didn’t want to go on without her in his life? Would the truth help her understand his behavior?
He clenched his eyes shut to stop the incessant questions. Why deliberate this now? His plans were in motion.
He’d orchestrated the past seven months to reflect apathy. He often claimed Andy’s and other medical colleagues’ company were more stimulating than hers. He followed up with many late work nights followed by drinks and dinner in which he chose not to call her. He tossed his discontent of her at every opportunity.
He wished she’d left him.
With the CDC job, he longed for a renewal of energy to improve the health for thousands of people. It was a worthy diversion. But what did “on hold” mean? While he stated research ignited his soul, a utopia where his future held more excitement than Heather, he died a little every day. What happened when the newness of the position wore off? And what would he do if the CDC canceled the contract?
Muddled thoughts fogged his mind. Glimpses of the past... her incredible impish smile. The ways she showed love—tender notes in his computer case, texts, heart-shaped cookies, soft music, and an emphasis on his needs. He missed her and what they once had together. Why did confusion shake his decision? The undercurrent of swimming in a sacrificial promise might have carried him away from all that mattered.
