CHAPTER 1
She wasn’t sure where it came from but her psyche shifted. It consumed every cell in her body and tore at her lungs. It burst from her lips in a shriek of pain, scattering crows, who expressed their annoyance with loud cawing. Shuddering, Kate collapsed against her husband. He’d been expecting this and was amazed she’d hung on for so long.
“We’re going to get through this baby.” He whispered. “All you have to do is breathe, just breathe. I’ll take care of everything.”
His words were reassuring and calmed her. She looked up at his face, strong and comforting and a sense of control returned. She summoned the strength to once again, bring her attention to the small, open grave. The even smaller handmade casket with brass handles was still there. She tried again but couldn’t shake the vision. In the casket at the bottom of the grave, lay the body of her only child, Stephen, barely twelve years old, who had committed suicide by drinking household bleach.
Father Brennan closed the Catholic Bible resting on his outstretched hands and the lone piper played “Amazing Grace.” As the sun sank low on the horizon, the mourners approached the Jessaps to offer their condolences. Passing nods, handshakes, muttered words and uncomfortable hugs all went unnoticed. Their lives would never be the same; something had gone terribly wrong with the life they’d planned. A part of them was gone forever.
Almost too weak to stand, Clive ushered Kate toward the parked cars. They rode out of the old cemetery perched high in the Hollywood Hills, passing the gravedigger, who stood by the wrought iron gates, waiting until everyone departed, before locking up and returning to fill in the grave with the piled up soil.
As the limousine hummed toward Laurel Canyon, Clive wondered where they’d get answers. He knew they’d have to, regardless of what it took. He had to have justice for his son and his wife’s sense of injustice was immeasurable; one of the reasons he’d fallen for her. Her alabaster skin, auburn hair and the freckles highlighting her cheekbones had gotten his attention. Her slender, curvaceous, five foot six frame helped keep it. But her character made him fall.
They met while she was a cub reporter, working for the L.A. Times, covering a human-interest story just after the Iraqi war. Her assignment was to interview Major Clive Jessap to get a picture of what it was like on the ground, so to speak, when no weapons of mass destruction were found. On her first trip to San Diego, she met him, a handsome Marine officer with an infectious smile that would dispel the thickest rain clouds. His assignment was maintaining the official military line on Iraq, “everything had gone as planned.” The fact that they did not find any weapons did not mean that they were not there. Kate was not getting far with her line of questioning. She decided to switch tack.
“Major Jessap, tell me about some of your personal experiences, something my readers can appreciate.”
The Major didn’t skip a beat.
“Be glad to,” he said, “for instance, the unit I was assigned to was behind enemy lines and we wer
