she’d gotten the fateful call three days earlier. Kate closed her eyes against the memory.
“White House. Press Secretary Kyle speaking.”
“Ms. Kyle? Ms. Katherine Kyle?”
“Yes.”
“This is Officer Brandan Oakley of the Arizona Highway Patrol.
There’s been an accident involving a rental car in Canyon De Chelly near Chinle, Arizona.”
Kate let go of Fred and covered her ears, trying to shut out the words.
“You are listed on the rental car application as primary contact for a Ms. Jamison Parker.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to inform you, Ms. Kyle, but there don’t appear to be any survivors.”
“No surviv…that can’t be…we…I…she...”
Lynn Ames
“I’m afraid Ms. Parker is dead.”
“No,” Kate screamed, scaring Fred. “No,” she sobbed, as she hugged him close again. She imagined she could still smell the passion and feel the warmth of the sheets where Jay and she had made love the morning before the accident. She curled into the fetal position, Fred laying his head on her side.
“Kate, it’s President Hyland. I heard. I’m so sorry. Jay was a wonderful woman and we’ll all feel her loss. I’ve personally asked the FBI to investigate, and I’ve had arrangements made for you to fly out there immediately. Don’t worry about anything here, we’ll hold down the fort.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Kate said aloud as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over the dog’s left front paw. Fred licked the back of her hand sympathetically. “I want her back. I just want her back.” She rocked back and forth, trying in vain to comfort herself.
“Ma’am, you can’t go beyond the yellow tape.”
“Jay!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay here.”
“No. I have to get to her. Jay!”
“Ma’am,” he said, more gently this time, “there’s nothing left.”
Nothing left. The words reverberated in her head. She tightened her grip on Fred, wondering if truer words had ever been spoken.
The FBI agent sitting in Kate’s living room looked uncomfortable.
He’d been assigned the unenviable task of liaising with the press secretary to the president of the United States in the matter of the death of her beloved partner. “Ms. Kyle, you saw the evidence yourself. There was no mistake. The forensics matched. The license plate they found corresponded with the car Ms. Parker rented when she arrived at the airport.” He slid across a copy of the rental agreement, signed and dated by Jay three days earlier: January 21, 1989. In the appropriate box in the upper right-hand corner of the form, the license plate number was typed in. It matched the mangled one shown in the Polaroid sitting on the coffee table.
“You were there—you saw the condition of the vehicle.”
Kate fought to control her emotions, but the rage and helplessness were too close to the surface.
“You found absolutely no conclusive evidence that the body was Jay’s, though, did you? No. You can’t prove that she was in the car when it crashed, can you? What if she wasn’t? What if…”
“Ms. Kyle, I’m so sorry for your loss. We searched everywhere around the vicinity. The explosion obliterated most of the evidence we The Value of Valor
might have found. We did come up with some teeth, a femur, and bone fragments from the skull, all clustered on the driver’s side of the car.”
Kate felt her head swim, and her body swayed as if she would keel over. She fought to steady herself.
“Technically, you’re right,” he went on, “we can’t rule with absolute certainty that the body was Ms. Parker’s. However, the pathology tests indicate that the bones belonged to a Caucasian woman about Ms.
Parker’s size. Unfortunately, we are unable to make a more positive ID
than that due to the condition of the specimens.”
Kate felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought of Jay being hurled into space and burnt beyond recognition.
She apparently didn’t hear him call her name
“White House. Press Secretary Kyle speaking.”
“Ms. Kyle? Ms. Katherine Kyle?”
“Yes.”
“This is Officer Brandan Oakley of the Arizona Highway Patrol.
There’s been an accident involving a rental car in Canyon De Chelly near Chinle, Arizona.”
Kate let go of Fred and covered her ears, trying to shut out the words.
“You are listed on the rental car application as primary contact for a Ms. Jamison Parker.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to inform you, Ms. Kyle, but there don’t appear to be any survivors.”
“No surviv…that can’t be…we…I…she...”
Lynn Ames
“I’m afraid Ms. Parker is dead.”
“No,” Kate screamed, scaring Fred. “No,” she sobbed, as she hugged him close again. She imagined she could still smell the passion and feel the warmth of the sheets where Jay and she had made love the morning before the accident. She curled into the fetal position, Fred laying his head on her side.
“Kate, it’s President Hyland. I heard. I’m so sorry. Jay was a wonderful woman and we’ll all feel her loss. I’ve personally asked the FBI to investigate, and I’ve had arrangements made for you to fly out there immediately. Don’t worry about anything here, we’ll hold down the fort.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Kate said aloud as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over the dog’s left front paw. Fred licked the back of her hand sympathetically. “I want her back. I just want her back.” She rocked back and forth, trying in vain to comfort herself.
“Ma’am, you can’t go beyond the yellow tape.”
“Jay!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay here.”
“No. I have to get to her. Jay!”
“Ma’am,” he said, more gently this time, “there’s nothing left.”
Nothing left. The words reverberated in her head. She tightened her grip on Fred, wondering if truer words had ever been spoken.
The FBI agent sitting in Kate’s living room looked uncomfortable.
He’d been assigned the unenviable task of liaising with the press secretary to the president of the United States in the matter of the death of her beloved partner. “Ms. Kyle, you saw the evidence yourself. There was no mistake. The forensics matched. The license plate they found corresponded with the car Ms. Parker rented when she arrived at the airport.” He slid across a copy of the rental agreement, signed and dated by Jay three days earlier: January 21, 1989. In the appropriate box in the upper right-hand corner of the form, the license plate number was typed in. It matched the mangled one shown in the Polaroid sitting on the coffee table.
“You were there—you saw the condition of the vehicle.”
Kate fought to control her emotions, but the rage and helplessness were too close to the surface.
“You found absolutely no conclusive evidence that the body was Jay’s, though, did you? No. You can’t prove that she was in the car when it crashed, can you? What if she wasn’t? What if…”
“Ms. Kyle, I’m so sorry for your loss. We searched everywhere around the vicinity. The explosion obliterated most of the evidence we The Value of Valor
might have found. We did come up with some teeth, a femur, and bone fragments from the skull, all clustered on the driver’s side of the car.”
Kate felt her head swim, and her body swayed as if she would keel over. She fought to steady herself.
“Technically, you’re right,” he went on, “we can’t rule with absolute certainty that the body was Ms. Parker’s. However, the pathology tests indicate that the bones belonged to a Caucasian woman about Ms.
Parker’s size. Unfortunately, we are unable to make a more positive ID
than that due to the condition of the specimens.”
Kate felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought of Jay being hurled into space and burnt beyond recognition.
She apparently didn’t hear him call her name
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