you have are still new. Maybe in the fall.â
âBut Mom! Did you see Amberâs shoes? Theyâre so amazing!â
âDid you remember to clean the sink when you finished?â
âYes.â
âWhat do you want for breakfast, something quick?â
âToast with honey.â
âOkay, remember your chore todayâyou water the plants while I fix your toast. Want orange juice or milk?â
âMilk.â
âMilk what?â
âMilk, please and thank you.â
As Kate prepared her daughterâs 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, Iâm back. Want to meet with you ASAP to discuss the Flight 4990 story.
Iâll be there within an hour.
Sooner would be better.
Welcome back, Chuck.
Nine
Manhattan, New York
K ate waited alone in Newsleadâs corner meeting room.
Looking out at the majestic view of Midtownâs skyscrapers, the Chrysler and Empire State buildings, she reflected.
It had been three years since sheâd started working at headquarters for Chuck and she thought about everything that sheâd reported on in that time: all the crime, disasters, tragedies, investigations. And with most stories, especially those where sheâd dealt face-to-face with victims and their anguished familiesâ Iâm so sorry but would you have a picture of your son-daughter-wife-husband-brother-sister-loved-one you could share with us? âsheâd 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 Chuckâs 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.
âGood morning, Kate.â
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.
âWhatâre you doing here?â she asked.
âI could ask you the same question.â
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.
âDid you send me your overtime sheet?â
âIâll do that today.â
âOkay, everybody.â
Chuck arrived and shut the door, prompting Sloane to paste on a smile, stand and extend his hand.
âMr. Laneer, welcome. Sloane F. Parkman. We havenât met but Iâm more than aware of your legendary status in the news craft.â
âItâs Chuck. Thanks.â
âHi.â Kate smiled.
âGood to see you again, Kate.â
Chuck smiled but his eyes betrayed a tinge of concern. His tie was slightly loosened and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Heâd lost some weight, his hair was thinner and mussed, and the lines in his face had deepened.
âThis wonât take long. I wanted to get to the jetliner story before Hersh and I officially address the newsroom this morning about my return.â
Chuck glanced at his watch.
âIâve looked at our coverage of Flight Forty-nine Ninety, and we have an opportunity here to take command of this story and reassert Newsleadâs prominence. By all accounts, something went haywire and a plane nearly fell from the sky. The Richlon-TitanRT-86 is a new model that came into service about two years ago. There are about three hundred in operation around the world and it seems to have a good safety record. We need to know if this is an isolated incident or if thereâs a serious problem with that aircraft. Lives could be at risk and itâs our duty to inform the public.â
âMy sources said it was not a technical problem but turbulence and