She was sleeping deeply when the repeated ring of a bell woke her. Opening her eyes, she listened. The house was quiet. Perhaps it was just a dream, she thought. She was closing her eyes when she heard footsteps in the hall and then down the stairs.
Not a dream.
Someone was at the front door.
Groggy, Sarah pushed back the covers and crept into the hall. The lights were on downstairs, the chandelier in the entry hall glowing yellow. Meg was unlocking the front door, drawing the dead bolt and removing the chain.
Sarah leaned over the balcony railing. “Who’s at the door?” she whispered to Meg, not wanting to wake the kids.
“I think it’s the sheriff,” Meg answered.
Sarah’s head cleared. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hang on. I’m coming down,” Sarah answered, returning to her room and stepping over Brennan to grab her robe, catching sight of her bedside clock: 3:05. Quickly, quietly, she closed the bedroom door behind her.
She was halfway down the stairs when she heard Meg’s voice.
“No!” Meg cried.
The hair rose on Sarah’s nape and she took the stairs two at a time. “What’s happening?” she demanded breathlessly, her sweeping gaze taking in Meg and the two uniformed officers on the front porch.
But all three were quiet, with Meg staring at the officers in their brown-and-khaki uniforms, her eyes wide, her mouth slack.
Sarah’s heart skipped. “What’s happened?” she repeated, this time directing her question to the officers.
“There’s been an accident,” one of them said, his voice quiet, respectful.
Meg made a low, gurgling sound and Sarah knew then that something terrible had happened. “Jack?” she whispered, reaching out to touch Meg.
Meg drew away. Her lips trembled. “No.”
“I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Roberts,” the officer added carefully. “I realize it’s a shock—”
“It’s not him,” Meg interrupted, teeth chattering. “There’s a mistake.”
“We don’t believe so,” the second officer spoke. “The Saab is registered to Jack Roberts, and we were able to recover the wallet, with his driver’s license. That’s how we were able to find you.”
“He can’t be dead,” Meg said, straightening. “He’s on a plane now. To Arlington. Call United. They’ll tell you. It’s the eleven fifteen flight to Reagan National Airport.”
“Ma’am, he didn’t make it to the airport. He crashed less than two miles from here.”
Impossible, Sarah thought.
Meg shook her head. “It can’t be. He left here hours ago. And Jack is a good driver. A great driver. He’s never even had an accident.”
The first officer looked regretful. “We need you to identify the body. We can drive you there, if you’d like.”
Meg simply stared at him.
“I know this isn’t easy, Mrs. Roberts, but due to the nature of the accident, and the resulting trauma . . . we need a positive ID for the body. We could wait for dental records—”
“Do you hear yourself? Do you know what you’re saying? He’s not a body. That’s my husband. My husband.” Meg’s voice cracked. “And we have three children together. Two are just young girls still. They need their father. They need a father. They—”
“I’ll go,” Sarah volunteered. She turned to Meg, put her hands on Meg’s shoulders. “Is that what you want? For me to go with them? If that would be easier for you, Meg, I’ll do it, and you can stay here with the kids.”
Meg stared up at her, her expression agonized. “What if it is him? What if Jack didn’t make the plane—” She broke off and pressed a trembling hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.
Sarah wrapped an arm around Meg. “I’ll get my coat and shoes and go find out. I’ll see him and I’ll know, and as soon as I know, I’ll call you. Okay?”
“Mom? Aunt Sarah? What’s going on?” JJ asked gruffly, his voice thick with sleep as he came down the stairs.
Sarah looked over Meg’s head at JJ, who was crossing the hall, still buttoning the fly of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing a T-shirt, and his pale skin stretched tight over his broadening shoulders.
Sarah stepped away so JJ could reach Meg.
“Mom?” he said, looking at her, his brow creased. “What’s happening?”
Meg sank her teeth into her lip and shook her head.
“There’s been an accident, JJ,” Sarah said huskily.
“Who?” he asked, scanning faces,
“Dad,” Meg said quietly. “At least they say it’s Dad.”