“I can imagine.”
“Supposed to extradite him,” Jack said. “What about Terese?”
“I told the FBI about her. They found her in Miami. So I got two strange calls last night.”
“From?”
“First was Terese. She was a little pissed that I’d had the FBI find her, but then when I explained everything she was OK with it. Then she wanted my advice. I told her to testify, of course. Took awhile, but she finally agreed.”
Jack nodded. “Perez is done, then,” Jack said, the pain returning to his eyes. “It won’t bring Rico back, or your father, you know, but in a strange way it makes me feel a little better. Who’s the other call?”
Amanda retreated again into the sorrow. She’d been fighting it for two weeks, weighing it against the good and the new. It was foolish to compare, she knew. Rico was gone, and her father would probably never be found. But life would go on after Harvey. It was going on. And there was good in it. But the tradeoff was as close to unbearable as life could get.
Amanda closed her eyes and squeezed the comparison into a corner of her mind until she couldn’t feel it anymore.
“Guy named Nicholas Gray. He’s a…”
“…forensic hurricanologist,” Jack said. “I didn’t know you knew him. He’s done some of the best papers on the 1938 hurricane. What’s he want?”
“He’s already working on a book about Harvey. Historical account. He wants to interview me.”
“Wise man.”
“But I’m just a forecaster. What’s he want with me?”
“You read my last article?”
“Sorry. I barely made it to the airport in time. Didn’t even glance at the paper.”
“I quoted Frank Delaney: ‘The death toll would have been far worse but for the heroic forecasting effort and direct involvement in the evacuation by Amanda Cole.”’
“Frank always exaggerates.”
“Frank never exaggerates. Come off it, Amanda. This was your storm, start to finish. Nick Gray knows that. Anyway, everybody and their brother is gonna write some crap about this storm. The first paperback hit the shelves yesterday. Did you see it? Pure garbage. At least Gray will do it well.”
“I guess.” Amanda thought for a moment. She reached across the aisle and laced her fingers through his. “Jack? You sure about what you’re doing?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“I would have waited for you,” she said. “You didn’t have to quit.”
“Yes I did. He needs me.” Jack nodded his head toward Jonathan. “At least for a few months. Let him adjust to school and everything. I can take him and Sarah and pick them both up, try to cook a few dinners. Then maybe I’ll go back to work. Maybe.” He grinned. Amanda squeezed his hand.
Amanda looked at the seat next to Jack. The window seat. Jonathan was straining to see the last of the City disappear below. In the reflection from the window, Amanda witnessed the nearest thing she’d seen to a smile on the boy’s face.
Jonathan had his own set of headphones on. He was nuts about listening to stories.
He’d already heard Winnie the Pooh about a hundred times in the past two weeks. Now he had Amanda’s favorite tape in the Seuss collection. The one with The Lorax on it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robert Roy Britt is a science writer and author of the Eli Quinn Mystery Series: Closure, Drone, First Kill and the short prequel Murder Mountain. He lives in Arizona with his wife, their youngest son and two dogs. In the mid-1990s, Britt reported on hurricane potential for the Asbury Park Press in New Jersey, and later was an editor at The Star-Ledger, across the Hudson River from Manhattan. For sixteen years he was a science writer and editor at Space.com and its sister site, Live Science. You can visit his website at robertroybritt.com or follow him on Facebook or Twitter. Or sign up for his newsletter to be informed of future books.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Too many people were involved in the creation of this book to adequately thank them all. I am grateful to the scientific community—at NASA and the Army Corps of Engineers, and in particular meteorologists at the National Hurricane Center—for giving their time and sharing their expertise over the years. Scientists are amazing.
Mike Patterson helped me understand what it’s like to fly a rescue mission under unthinkable circumstances in a Coast Guard helicopter. Jennifer Toth’s excellent 1995 book, The Mole People: Life in the Tunnels Beneath New York City, was an indispensible resource. I treasure my 1976 copy of A Wind to Shake the World: The Story of the 1938 Hurricane, by Everett S. Allen, who reported on said storm for the Bedford Standard-Times on his first day on the job. Queens College Professor Nicholas K. Coch, in interviews in the late 1990s, did more than any single person to enlighten me to the true risks presented in this book.
Without the editorial direction of Allison Wolcott, this book would not exist. Russell Galen, quietly and professionally, provided more motivation than any writer could expect. Peter Miller, wherever you are, thanks for a great ride. Lauren Craft, as always, found a sea of things to change, all for the better.
And to my family, who encouraged me to cross the finish line, to sprint those final yards after a marathon: Thank you. There it is, then.
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