All That She Saw Page 9

  He’d kept the car running while he ran into the school to get whatever it was he’d left. Jennifer was glad the heater was on. First of all, she was still freezing cold. Second of all, it made her certain that whatever Mr. Green was here to do, it wouldn’t take long.

  For a minute, she wished she’d asked if she could go inside with him, but she didn’t want to make it seem like she was afraid to stay out here alone. She wasn’t the same little pre-teen she’d been when she was a student in his science class so long ago. She was older now, far more mature.

  Now that her body had started to warm and her mind was no longer fixating on the problem of how to get herself home, she found herself remembering her evening at the party with Darren. She couldn’t wait to see him at school on Monday. Maybe she’d even see him sooner than that. Her heart gave a little leap to her throat at the thought, and she immersed herself in playing out the various scenarios. Maybe she’d go to the mall tomorrow with Lisa and Shawna and Kylee, and he’d be there with his older brother, and they’d see each other and smile and break off from their respective groups and go ice skating together.

  Maybe Lisa would decide that she didn’t want to be outdone by Kylee’s party, so she’d throw a party of her own tomorrow night, and Jennifer and Darren would meet up again there.

  Maybe it’d be a total fluke where you knew it had to be God making things work out, and she’d run into him while she went to the grocery store with her dad to pick up something for dinner.

  For the first time in her recent memory, she felt truly happy. She was so lost in her thoughts she gasped when someone flung open the passenger side door of the car.

  She gave a little jump, then let out her breath when she realized who it was. “You scared me,” she said with a giggle, a giggle that died on her lips the moment she saw his face. Something wasn’t right. Something was terribly wrong.

  “Get out of the car,” he told her, and that’s when she saw the knife in his hand. It was one of those dissecting tools she remembered from that frog lab that made her and Shawna both feel sick.

  “Get out,” Mr. Green repeated.

  Jennifer glanced once more at his scalpel and did what he said.

  CHAPTER 29

  It’s almost nighttime before we load the car to drive home, our bags in the trunk and our flight plans forgotten. The kids are disappointed their vacation’s ruined. Russel’s decided not to tell them the specifics of the hijacked airplane. They know there was a problem with one of the airplanes, and that’s why we’re not going to see Grandma and Grandpa after all.

  What they don’t know is that the same airplane that crash landed in Detroit was the airplane we were seated on earlier today. That we were hours away from what could have been our deaths.

  Russel’s mom insisted on talking to me when he called. She tells me I’m a prophetess, that I have the gift of discernment, that God saved our family by giving me divine insight into what was about transpire on that plane.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise.

  Russel still thinks my emotional reactions today are all related to the hunch I got that something wasn’t right with our flight. News reports have been filing in all evening. Apparently, the Detroit school district ordered an elementary school to be built on toxic wasteland. A few parents were upset enough they got up in arms, literally. Kidnapping the superintendent’s daughter to use her as a bargaining chip. Hampering with the electric wiring in the airplane lavatory to cause a fire. I still don’t know all the facts. Not sure how many people died.

  The truth is I don’t want to know any more details than I already do.

  The kidnapped girl is safe now. I didn’t realize how much tension I’d been holding in my body until I saw the news coverage showing her reunited with her parents. Does she know about me, I wonder? Will the federal agents who are debriefing her right now let her know that some unnamed passenger got off the plane and sounded the alarm?

  I’m not sure it really matters. I might have been right about her being a victim, but that didn’t stop the plane from getting hijacked.

  “Look, Daddy! It’s Chuck E. Cheese! Just like the one Grandma and Grandpa take us to!”

  I certainly can’t imagine Russel being the type of father who’d let his children into a venue like Chuck E. Cheese. It makes me wonder if his parents are more lenient than he is. Or maybe Annie’s referring to her mother’s parents.

  Regardless, I’m shocked when Russel turns on his blinker and pulls into the parking lot. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “The kids are hungry.”

  Squeals erupt from the back seats. Russel grins at me sheepishly. I wonder if I’m supposed to keep our family excursion to Chuck E. Cheese a secret from the congregation. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.

  The children don’t seem nearly as out of place as I feel. When they get inside, they hold their arms out expertly so the workers can mark their hands. I don’t realize until Russel follows suit that adults are given the same kind of stamp. Indisputable proof that our family belongs together, I suppose.

  Russel pulls out two twenty dollar bills and tells Betsy to get tokens and divide them evenly. “Stay together,” he gives as a final ultimatum, and the children race off.

  I blink, wondering if my husband’s mind is simply reacting to the stress and shock of the day. Never in our entire engagement did I picture our family hanging out in Chuck E. Cheese. I want to ask him what the members of Gospel Kingdom would think, but he looks so happy I don’t bring it up.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks then shocks me again by ordering two large pepperoni pizzas. We wait for our food at an empty table, and he takes me by the hand.

  “I’m so glad you were with us today. I’m so glad God gave you that warning and that you heeded it and got our family off that flight.”

  I take a deep breath. On the wall behind my husband, robotic rodents dance on stage. The strobing lights are distracting enough I’m surprised we’re not all suffering seizures yet.

  Russel gives my hand a squeeze. “You really are amazing, you know that? You probably saved our family’s life today.”

  I’m about to tell him. I’m about to tell him everything, but he isn’t giving me the chance.

  “That took a lot of courage,” he continues. “And I’ll admit, I was worried at first. I thought maybe you were having second thoughts about meeting my parents. The last couple days have felt a little …” He leaves the thought unfinished.

  “It’s been kind of stressful,” I admit.

  He nods, as if I’ve just confirmed what he’d been wanting to say but couldn’t. He squeezes my hand again and lets out a chuckle. “For a minute, I thought you wanted off the plane to get away from me.”

  I smile back at him, but I can’t force myself to feel any joy or relief. There’s so much he doesn’t know.

  Betsy comes running up. Andrew’s got a scrape on his knee and needs a bandage. Good thing I’ve got half a dozen in my purse.

  I may not be the world’s most experienced mother, but I’m a fast learner.

  I hand Betsy the Band-Aid, tell her to wash her hands before and after putting it on, and the entire time my husband stares at me as if in shock.

  “You’re amazing,” he says. “You really are. I see you with the kids, I see how much you love them, what a great mom you are, and I realize just how blessed I am. I thank God so much for bringing you into my life.”

  I want to ask him about Sarah. Want to ask if he thinks I’ll ever come close to being the wife or mother she was. I want to ask if he sometimes has doubts too, if he wonders whether or not we should have waited before getting married so quickly.

  I want to ask if he has second thoughts.

  But I don’t.

  I’m thinking about that girl from the airplane, wondering what it will be like now that she’s been returned to her parents. The good news, if you can call it that, was she was miss
ing for less than 48 hours from the time of her abduction.

  She beat the statistical odds.

  Lucky her.

  “What are you thinking about?” Russel asks.

  I picture myself telling him everything. Just opening up my mouth and vomiting out the truth. I’m thinking about the man who kidnapped me. He held me trapped in his basement for two years and then I caused him to have a heart attack when I accused him of murdering his daughter. Oh, he didn’t murder her by the way. She was killed by a schoolteacher who beat her and drugged her and left her on a football field for dead, but the police figured that part out later.

  By then, Henry was already gone. And I’m the one who killed him.

  The words are so close to the tip of my tongue I can nearly taste them. “Can I tell you something?” Immediately I’m interrupted by the worker who comes with our food. Our children must have pizza radar. They’re swarming the table in seconds, and it seems almost as quick until they’re gone again, leaving half-eaten slices and tomato-stained napkins in their wake.

  “I should warn you they have monstrous appetites,” Russel says with a grin.

  This time I manage to laugh, but the sound is hollow and unconvincing.

  He holds my hand gingerly in his. I wonder if Sarah took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese like this. If they ate pizza like this. If he held her hand like this.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Russel breathes. “Have I ever told you how blessed I am to have you in my life?”

  He sounds so sincere. I can feel the love he’s pouring into my soul at this exact moment. Our relationship might not be the most conventional, but the love we have for each other is real. I’m not sure I ever realized that until this very moment.

  I think about Russel on the airplane, how he didn’t question or complain when I told him I needed off. How he stayed by my side when the agents were asking me questions, how he did everything in his power to try to comfort me when I was falling apart piece by piece in front of him.

  “I’m blessed to you have you in my life too,” I assure him then clear my throat.

  The setting is far from idyllic. The music is way too loud. The stage rodents are still dancing just a few feet away from us. Any second one of our children will come running up and interrupt our conversation.

  But if I wait for the perfect time to get it all out, it will never happen.

  There are two things I know right now. That I love Russel more than anything.

  And I trust him.

  It’s time for me to make things right.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” I test the words, noting how they taste in my mouth. I admit that I have no idea how our conversation is going to go after this. I don’t know if Russel’s going to be hurt that I didn’t tell him sooner or if he’ll jump into fix-it mode like he did at the airport and try to figure out what he could possibly do to take away the pain of my past.

  He might be angry. Might yell at me, demand to know why I kept something so huge a secret from him. But I do know his love for me will never change, and that conviction gives me the courage to grab hold of his hand and look him in the eyes. My gaze doesn’t waver.

  “Something happened to me when I was younger I never told you about,” I begin.

  He looks startled. Surprised. Perhaps even a little nervous.

  But the love and protectiveness I saw earlier is still there, shining even more brightly as flashing lights and deafening music surround us and blast our senses.

  I take a deep breath, wondering if he can feel the way my hand shakes.

  Russel thinks I have some sort of divine intuition. His mother calls it the gift of discernment. I certainly don’t claim to be a prophet, but I suppose there are certain things I just know even though I can’t explain why.

  What I know right now is that even though what I’m about to tell Russel will surprise him, even though it will be incredibly hard for him to hear, God is going to use this conversation to make our relationship stronger than it’s ever been before.

  “The reason I reacted like I did at the airport, the reason I could spot that girl and why I was so upset afterward wasn’t because I’ve got some magical gift from the Lord. It’s because I was kidnapped as a teenager.” The truth pours out from my mouth. There’s no more lights, no more noise. Even the children have been infused with the miraculous ability to entertain themselves without coming to interrupt us.

  It’s just me and Russel. Us and the painful secrets of my past.

  I tell him about everything. Henry’s basement. The night he died. His daughter’s murder that went unsolved for so long.

  “I’m sorry,” I conclude, and for what feels like a lifetime, my husband remains completely stone-faced and silent.

  “Why are you apologizing?” he finally asks.

  “For not telling you sooner. I wanted to. I just … I couldn’t talk about it. I thought I was over it. I thought I’d moved on. I just …” I take in a choppy breath. “I’m so sorry I lied to you.” I nearly choke on the words. “But you deserve to know the truth.”

  Russel gets out of his seat then. Comes over to my side of the table and kneels down just like he did the night he proposed.

  “You’re the woman I love,” he says. “You’re the woman I chose to marry. You’re everything to me.”

  I shake my head and pull my hand free to wipe away my tears. “I’m not who you think I am,” I say, choking a little on the words.

  He reaches his arms out toward me. Wraps me in a strong, protective hug. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed or wanted,” he whispers.

  “You’re everything to me too,” I answer back.

  And I realize then that that’s the perfect truth.

  ***

  Thanks for reading All That She Saw, book 4 in the Turbulent Skies novella series.

  If you’re ready to jump into more fast-paced, action-packed adventures featuring other characters aboard Flight 219, dive into Tears of Terror, book 5 in the Turbulent Skies Christian Thriller series today.

  As a hardworking reporter for Channel 2 News, Chelsea regularly covers stories about crime and terrorism. That doesn't mean she's prepared to find herself a hostage trapped thirty-thousand feet in the air.

  While her fellow passengers fight for their survival, Chelsea confronts the demons of her past and realizes she isn't ready to die. But the way the hijacking's going, Chelsea fears she's about to meet her Maker whether she's prepared for it or not.

  The Turbulent Skies series delivers a string of interconnected novellas about strangers traveling together aboard a doomed flight. Find out why Christian fiction readers can't stop raving about this unforgettable, fast-paced series you can devour in a single sitting.

  Buy Tears of Terror for an unforgettable high-altitude adventure full of danger, suspense, and life-changing faith. Keep scrolling for a sneak peek, or if you really can’t wait, download your next binge-read immediately!

  ***

  CHAPTER 1

  Chelsea knew from the moment she stepped onto the airplane that she was in over her head.

  Imposter syndrome. That’s what her life coach called this feeling. The sense that no matter how far Chelsea advanced in her field, she still lived each and every day in constant fear of being discovered.

  What would her colleagues do when they realized she was a fraud?

  Chelsea had begged and schmoozed and pleaded in order to get this assignment. And now that she was on her way to Detroit, the nerves threatened to make her throw up.

  Great. That’s all she needed to start her three-hour flight.

  Chelsea was one of the first passengers to board. A few men in stuffy business suits glared at her first-class seat, no doubt wondering why a 23-year-old who barely topped five feet tall needed that much extra leg room.

  The truth was Chelsea didn’t need the extra leg room. She’d splurged for the upgrade because her life coach tol
d her to. If Chelsea wanted other people to take her and her career seriously, she had to take herself and her career seriously.

  Starting with first-class seats.

  She shouldn’t feel guilty, right? After all, it was Clark’s idea, not hers. She was just doing what her life coach told her to do.

  Now that she was sitting here, with twice the space she actually needed, Chelsea couldn’t remember why this frivolous luxury had seemed like such a good idea.

  Tired of questioning herself, her career choices, and her right to be sitting here in first class, Chelsea did her best to silence that inner critic she hated so much. Instead, she did what came most naturally to her as a writer. She stared at the travelers as they boarded the plane, trying to come up with backstories for each and every one of them.

  There were two girls, college aged by the looks of them, giggling as they lugged their mismatched carry-ons down the aisle. “You’re gonna love Alaska,” said one with bright blue highlights in her hair. “It’s wicked awesome.”

  Alaska. Chelsea tried to picture what that might be like, but all her mind could conjure up were images of sled dogs and igloos. Somehow, she doubted that’s how this cosmopolitan young passenger lived.

  A scowling man with an SVSU sweatshirt boarded soon after. Chelsea thought through all of the local colleges and universities in the Boston area, trying to figure out if she could place the acronym. He wasn’t dressed like a typical businessman. Maybe a divorcé on the way to visit his kids? He didn’t strike Chelsea as the type to be racing off toward an illicit affair. More likely he was flying to Detroit to visit his beloved granny.

  Chelsea sat back in her seat, ignoring the initial pangs of what was likely to turn into a piercing headache. When she’d graduated with her journalism degree, Chelsea had been so excited. So eager. A stereotype, really. Journalism major about to make a name for herself while simultaneously changing the world one perfectly constructed paragraph at a time.