Whirlwind

14

Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas

Kate was at a loss.

Standing in the Rivergreen Community Hall, questions whirled in her head.

Why was Mandy, her competition, looking for Jenna Cooper?

Why was she following Kate’s story after Dorothea rejected the idea?

Kate thanked Rivera and White then made a beeline to Mandy.

“Excuse me,” Kate said. “Hi, I thought you were going to Irving today. What’s up?”

“Oh my Lord, Kate, why are you here? You’re supposed to be on the night shift.”

“Did Dorothea ask you to follow my story on Jenna Cooper?”

“Your story?” Mandy’s high-boned cheeks turned red. “Sweetie, it’s not your story. It’s Newslead’s story. And since we put it out there, it’s really anybody’s story now, isn’t it? All I did was enquire as to whether or not they found the child. By the way, why are you here? Does Dorothea know?” Mandy raised her cell phone. “Would you like me to call her and check for you?”

“I don’t believe this.” Kate rolled her eyes. “I’m here on my own time.”

Mandy tapped a glossed nail on Kate’s laminated ID tag.

“If that’s the case, it would appear you’re using Newslead to advance your own interests, whatever they may be.”

“What? This is bullsh-” Kate pulled back on her rising anger.

As she turned from Mandy she met the eyes of an elderly man and woman, their faces bearing the cuts and scrapes of survivors, looking up from cots near them. They’d witnessed the exchange.

Suddenly Kate was jabbed by a pang of shame for letting newsroom politics play out here, of all places. It was unforgivable, unprofessional. Immediately Kate apologized to the couple, dismissed Mandy with a wave of her hand and walked away.

Seething as she moved through the hall, she tried in vain to comprehend why Dorothea would not only push her off her story, but then steal it from her and give it to Mandy.

Why would I want to work with people who do this?

Because she needed the job, that’s why.

She needed the high pay and benefits. She needed the security for Grace and for herself. Bills were piling up at home. Newslead was a big organization with bureaus everywhere. If she could get through this and land a job, she might have a shot at a better bureau elsewhere.

I can’t give up.

Kate left Mandy and the issue behind her.

Tapping her notebook on her thigh she continued moving through the hall for the next ten minutes until she stopped. Two rows of cots over from where she stood, Jenna Cooper was sitting with Cassie and talking with two other women. Clothes, towels and toiletries were stacked next to them on the pallet.

Reporters?

Kate didn’t think so. One woman had a clipboard and an official-looking ID hanging from her neck. Kate wasn’t sure about the other woman. She had her hand on Jenna’s shoulder. Jenna was dabbing a tissue to her eyes, Cassie was holding a stuffed teddy bear.

A crisis worker and a friend of Jenna’s, maybe?

Kate slowly moved toward them, keeping a respectful distance but close enough to hear parts of their conversation.

“No, you can’t give up hope, but you also have to focus on who needs you now, on the things you can and should do now,” the woman said.

“I’m trying to reach my husband,” Jenna said. “The people here gave me this cell phone. Since last night, I’ve been texting, leaving him messages to call. I got through to his dispatcher who said Blake’s on the return leg of a trip to Alaska. He’s in Washington State, in the mountains, in an area with weak service.”

Jenna looked up, saw Kate and invited her to join them.

“This is the reporter I talked to.” Jenna nodded to the women.

Kate introduced herself, apologizing for interrupting.

“Hello, Kate, I’m Wendy DeBello. I’m with trauma counseling services.” The woman had a folded edition of USA TODAY under her clipboard, which had picked up Newslead’s stories and pictures.

“Holly Lawrence. Jen’s sister. I got in from Atlanta last night.”

“What’ve you heard on Caleb?” Jenna’s voice was raw and quivered. “Have you been to the flea market today? We’ve heard nothing this morning. They’ve restricted access. Now family can’t get in, only officials and media. For safety, they said. We’re going to wait at the line this morning. I need to be as close as possible. Tell me what you know, please!”

“I was just there. I’m sorry, there’s no news. They’re still searching the site, the entire flea market, still getting people out.”

All the pain bubbling under Jenna’s skin was in her eyes. Here was a shell-shocked woman battling to hang on to hope, any hope. And, as sickening as it was, Kate was going to intrude at her most vulnerable time.

It was a part of being a reporter that she hated.

“Forgive me, Jenna,” Kate started, “but I wanted to follow up on your situation. Maybe you could tell me more about the strangers who helped you.”

“Did they find them? Is there new information?”

“No, no, nothing like that, but can you tell me, or remember anything more about them?”

“Okay.”

Kate switched on her small digital recorder. She held it in view as she prepared to take notes, as well. Jenna thought, then with her voice shaking, she gave Kate an inventory of the few details she could recall. The woman was white, had a good figure, a pretty smile and was in her twenties, short spiky red hair, jeans and a low-cut top.

“And wait, maybe a tattoo.” Jenna touched the top of her chest. “Here, a butterfly, or bird, something with wings.”

Kate noted it.

“The man with her was white, the same age, about six feet, muscular build. He had jeans and a T-shirt with a motorcycle or a dog, I think. Lots of tattoos on his arms, maybe flames, I don’t know. He had stubble on his face and he never spoke.”

“Anything else?”

“They’re complete strangers. I never saw them before in my life, but the woman seemed kind of forward, kind of infatuated with Caleb.”

“Infatuated?” Kate noted the word and put an asterisk next to it.

“She got all sweet on him at the table where I bought some clothes. Then we saw them in the center, I mean they were just there in all the craziness, and so quick to help us when the storm hit. I had these terrible feelings that they may have taken Caleb somewhere, got confused and everything, or-oh, God-maybe they just took him!”

“Did you tell anyone about your feelings?”

“Yes. I talked to some officials, and some police officers. They’re so overwhelmed, but they said a kidnapping couldn’t be ruled out as a possibility. But it was highly unlikely because no evidence of a kidnapping has surfaced, and so many people are still missing that anything may have happened. Their theory is that Caleb’s case is related to the storm.”

Kate made a note: Kidnapping a possibility but no evidence.

Kate began weighing the additional details in a new light. The word Jenna had used, infatuated, got her thinking, but her thoughts were cut short when the cell phone Jenna was holding rang.

“Hello?” She repeated it louder. “Hello, Blake?”

Tears rolled down her face.

“Blake, wait, I can’t hear, I need to-” Jenna stared at the phone helplessly. Wendy took it, increased the volume and handed it back. It was now loud enough for their conversation to be heard by everyone.

“What’s going on, Jen? I’ve been out of reach. I saw the news in the motel about the tornadoes in Dallas. Jen, are you and the kids okay?”

“No!” Jenna broke down. “We’re at a shelter. I can’t go home yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Caleb’s gone!”

“What? He’s what? I don’t- Jen?”

“The house might be gone, too! Oh, God!”

Great gulping sobs exploded from her. Wendy was rubbing her shoulders. Cassie had buried her little face into her teddy bear and nuzzled against her mother. Jenna was holding her tight.

Kate took a picture with her phone, fighting a surge of guilt.

“We were at the flea market when it happened,” Jenna said, relaying the story to her husband. “We can’t find him! He’s so small and I should’ve been holding him! I should’ve held him with Cassie. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Blake. We need you here. Cassie and I need you, Blake!”

Jenna was trembling and a great groan that evolved into a wail erupted from the pit of her stomach and she lost her grip on the phone. Kate stared at it on the floor, lights blinking as Blake’s voice, now tiny, remote, pleaded from it.

“Jen? Jen? I’m coming home. I’ll tell Arnie, I’ll get on a plane. I’m coming home!”

Kate picked up the phone, placed it in Jenna’s hand and gently raised it to her ear.

“He’s coming home,” Kate said softly.

“Hurry!” Jenna wept into the phone. “We need you.”

Kate turned away, blinking back her own tears as images of her own life-losing her sister, Grace’s sparkly little fingers, her fight for a job-burned by at the speed of light. Listening to Jenna’s agony and standing amid the sea of suffering storm survivors, Kate asked one question over and over.

What happened to Caleb Cooper?