“I know,right?” Dray pulls away, sniffling, and grabs a tissue from the box on my desk. “May I use your bathroom, sir?”
“Yeah, of course. Eye drops are in the medicine cabinet.”
He laughs. “Thanks.”
A few minutes later, the state troopers have cleared the back corridor and stairs, and I’m running, not even bothering to put my jacket on. For once, my detail is having to hoof it to keep up withme.
Dray’s close on my heels, his laptop and planner in hand, and juggling three different phones, including my official one. I’ve got a death grip on my personal cell, my charger cord shoved in my pants pocket.
Two minutes later, we’re in the back seat of a black Tahoe and speeding through Tallahassee streets.
Benchley’s well-protected house, sitting fenced-in on five acres, the house itself nestled within a thick surrounding border of trees, and with a long driveway behind a locked gate, will provide us a modicum of privacy. Since I’ve made a point of stopping by at least three times a week since this nightmare began, hopefully anyone staking them out won’t think anything of it. Michelle already has the front door open when Dray and I rush in past her.
“Owen, what’s going on?” she asks.
“Where’s Benchley?” I only want to tell this once, and feel myself already starting to cry again.
Her face goes white. “They found her body?” she whispers.
“Benchley?” I roar, heading toward the room he uses as his home office.
Dray drapes an arm around Michelle and herds her along with us. Benchley is standing, heading for his office door, when I rush through it.
“Carter just called me.” I completely lose it as I relate as verbatim as I can what Carter told me. Michelle goes to her husband, their arms wrapped around each other and looking more frail than I can ever remember.
Dray’s holding me now as I finish choking it out. “Nopress. He was emphatic about that. No press, no leaks. Radio silence until he says otherwise.”
Benchley is nodding, his eyes wide, crying as hard as his wife now is. “When can we leave? I’ll charter a jet.”
“I don’t know. As soon as Carter tells me. I don’t even know where we’d meet them yet, or when.”
“Fuckwhen, I want to fly over therenow,” Benchley insists.
“Wecan’t,” I insist. Maybe it’s selfish of me, and I don’t fucking care, butIwant to hug her and put eyes on her before Benchley and Michelle do.
Fuck it. She’smywife. Maybe not in name, or publicly, but I wantthisthing. Thisonedamn thing.
They can hog her for as long as they wantafter, but Ineedto hold herfirst. Because it’ll probably be the only moment I get to have alone with her for weeks and weeks, considering the press coverage, the campaign—all of that.
Ineed to know she’s alive, and Ineedto tell my Ma’am how much I love her.
“Like I said,” I continue, “I don’t evenknowwhere we’d be going. Carter didn’t understand what the guy said about location. I got the impression they’re flying them to wherever it is.”
“My passport isn’t current,” Michelle sadly says, saving me further argument. “I meant to renew it and totally forgot. It expired last month.” I know damn well Benchley won’t travel overseas without her.
“Well, we need to find out where they’ll arrive in the States,” he says. “We’ll charter a flight for them, if we have to. We’ll catch a jet out there. All of us.”
This I don’t argue with. I doubt they can fly straight through to Florida from overseas. Most likely, they’ll touch down in LA or Dallas first. Or maybe Hawaii. I don’t know.
But, again, any plans made right now are nothing more than what-ifs, everything contingent upon when she actually comeshome.
If it’s truly her.
And who knows the when, because I’m sure there’s going to be a hospital stay in her future.
I don’t plan to stay much longer. In fact, I’m about ready to have Dray signal to the security detail that we’re going to leave when my personal cell rings.
It’s Carter.
