Chapter 3 - THE PERFECT WIDOWERNathan became America's grieving husband within forty-eight hours.
At least, I thought it was twenty minutes.
Time had become difficult to measure.
There was only pain, cold, contraction, breath.
Pain.
Cold.
Contraction.
Breath.
My gloves had torn during the fall. Blood streaked my fingers where I clung to the exposed root above my head.
The ledge continued crumbling beneath me.
Every few minutes, tiny pieces of ice broke loose and vanished into the whiteness.
I knew enough about hypothermia to recognize what was happening.
The violent shivering.
The numb fingertips.
The strange fog entering my thoughts.
I forced myself to speak aloud.
“My name is Claire Cole.”
The wind answered.
“I am thirty-four years old.”
My teeth chattered.
“My son is Eli.”
Another contraction hit.
I bit down on my sleeve to keep from screaming.
“And my husband is a murdering bastard.”
That kept me conscious.
Anger, I discovered, was warm.
I replayed every suspicious moment of the previous six months.
Nathan insisting I sell my shares in the medical technology company we'd founded together.
Nathan becoming furious when I refused.
Nathan saying pregnancy made me “emotional” during board meetings.
Rebecca suddenly appearing at every company dinner.
The insurance policy.
The new will.
The mountain trip.
Pieces that had looked unrelated were snapping into place.
Nathan didn't simply want the insurance money.
He wanted my forty-eight percent ownership of Cole Biomedical.
If I died, my shares transferred into a trust controlled by my spouse until Eli turned twenty-five.
If Eli died with me…
Nathan inherited everything.
I had signed those documents myself.
God.
I'd handed him the weapon.
A noise cut through the wind.
At first, I thought it was thunder.
Then I heard it again.
Rotors.
I looked up.
A helicopter.
“HELP!”
My voice came out weak.
I waved one arm.
The aircraft disappeared behind snow.
“No!”
I tried to push myself higher.
Pain ripped through my side.
I nearly slipped.
Then the helicopter came back.
Closer.
A searchlight swept across the rock face.
Someone had reported us missing.
Nathan?
Impossible.
A hiker?
A ranger?
I didn't care.
“HERE!”
The beam passed me.
Then stopped.
Light flooded the ledge.
I began sobbing.
The helicopter hovered above as a rescuer descended on a cable.
He landed awkwardly several feet away, clipped himself to the rock, and crawled toward me.
“Ma'am! I'm Sergeant Luis Alvarez with mountain rescue!”
“Baby.”
“We know.”
“No, you don't understand. I'm in labor.”
His expression changed.
“Okay.”
“And my husband pushed me.”
The rescuer stared.
“What?”
“My husband pushed me.”
Another contraction seized me before I could say more.
Alvarez immediately switched priorities.
“We're getting you out.”
The ledge cracked again.
His head snapped downward.
“Right now.”
He secured a harness around me as carefully as possible.
When the cable pulled us upward, I watched the ledge collapse beneath my boots.
The place where I had been lying disappeared.
If they had arrived three minutes later, there would have been nothing left to rescue.
Inside the helicopter, a medic wrapped heated blankets around me.
“Fetal heart rate is strong.”
I cried harder at those words than I had when Nathan pushed me.
“Strong?”
“Very strong.”
Eli kicked as if confirming it himself.
The medic smiled.
“He's angry.”
“He gets that from me.”
Then his smile disappeared when he checked beneath the blanket.
“We need to move.”
“What?”
“Your water broke.”
The helicopter banked sharply toward Denver.
I grabbed Alvarez's sleeve.
“You need to listen to me.”
“We'll talk when you're safe.”
“No. Now.”
Something in my voice made him lean closer.
“Nathan Cole pushed me deliberately. Rebecca Shaw was with him. They're going to say it was an accident.”
Alvarez looked toward the medic.
Then back at me.
“Did they see the helicopter?”
“I don't know.”
“Did they see you rescued?”
“No.”
That answer changed everything.
Alvarez pulled off one glove and reached for his radio.
He spoke quietly to someone through his headset.
I caught only fragments.
“Possible attempted homicide.”
“Preserve scene.”
“Do not contact spouse.”
“Sheriff.”
Then he looked at me.
“Claire, when we land, law enforcement is going to meet us.”
“Good.”
“But your medical condition comes first.”
Another contraction crashed through me.
I screamed.
The medic checked again.
“We're not making Denver.”
“What?”
“You're crowning.”
My terror returned instantly.
“No hospital?”
“We're twelve minutes out.”
“I can't have him here.”
The medic took my hand.
“I've delivered eleven babies.”
“On helicopters?”
He paused.
“Two.”
“That is not comforting.”
Despite everything, Alvarez laughed.
Then the aircraft jolted in turbulence.
The medic braced himself.
“Claire, listen to me. Your baby is coming whether any of us are ready or not.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Nathan had wanted my child to die nameless on a mountain.
I wouldn't allow that.
“Tell me what to do.”
Twenty-six minutes after being pulled from the cliff, thousands of feet above Colorado, my son entered the world.
His first cry cut through the helicopter cabin.
Strong.
Furious.
Alive.
The medic lifted him.
I saw ten fingers.
A tiny nose.
Dark hair plastered against his head.
Then Eli was placed on my chest.
Everything went quiet inside me.
“Hi.”
His eyes stayed closed.
“You saved me.”
I kissed his forehead.
“You don't know it yet, but you saved me.”
Alvarez turned away for a moment, pretending to adjust equipment.
The medic wasn't pretending.
He wiped his eyes openly.
We landed at a smaller regional hospital.
The doors opened to emergency personnel, nurses, and two sheriff's deputies.
Before they rolled me inside, Alvarez touched my shoulder.
“Claire.”
I looked at him.
“We checked the initial missing-person call.”
My stomach tightened.
“Nathan reported you missing seventeen minutes after leaving the trailhead.”
Of course he had.
“He said you wandered away during an argument and probably slipped.”
There it was.
The story.
Already prepared.
“Is he coming here?”
“Not yet.”
I looked down at Eli.
Nathan thought we were dead.
Or close enough to dead that the mountain would finish his work.
An older deputy approached.
“Mrs. Cole, I'm Detective Samuel Grant.”
“I need you to protect my baby.”
“We will.”
“And don't tell Nathan we're alive.”
Grant studied me.
“That isn't usually something we can promise.”
“Then don't promise.”
I met his eyes.
“Just listen before you decide.”
In the emergency room, doctors discovered two cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, a badly bruised hip, multiple lacerations and moderate hypothermia.
But Eli was nearly perfect.
Seven pounds, four ounces.
Strong heart.
Strong lungs.
No apparent injury.
Miracle was a word nurses used.
I didn't.
Miracles felt accidental.
Eli had fought.
So had I.
Hours later, Detective Grant returned.
This time he had another woman with him.
Special Agent Priya Desai.
FBI.
That surprised me.
“Why federal?”
Desai closed the door.
“Cole Biomedical has several Department of Defense contracts.”
My heart sank.
Nathan had recently been pushing for a classified acquisition deal.
“I know.”
“And Rebecca Shaw isn't simply Nathan's assistant.”
“What is she?”
Desai placed a photograph on my blanket.
Rebecca was leaving a restaurant with a man I recognized.
Victor Hale.
CEO of our largest competitor.
“You've been under quiet financial investigation for four months,” Desai said. “Not you personally. Your company.”
“For what?”
“Possible trade-secret theft, procurement fraud and diversion of restricted technology.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Nathan?”
“We weren't certain.”
Now we were getting closer.
I looked at Eli sleeping beside me.
Nathan hadn't tried to kill me only because of money.
He was burying something bigger.
“Does Nathan know I'm alive?”
Grant shook his head.
“We've told him search operations are ongoing.”
“And when you find my blood?”
“We already have.”
“What did he say?”
Grant's mouth tightened.
“He cried.”
I almost laughed.
Nathan crying.
Of course.
“He's good at performances.”
Desai leaned forward.
“We have an unusual opportunity, Claire.”
“How unusual?”
“Your husband believes you are probably dead.”
I understood before she finished.
“You want him to keep believing it.”
“For a short time.”
Grant looked uncomfortable.
“I want to be clear. We are not talking about falsifying your death permanently. But given the storm, limited recovery access, and the ongoing investigation, we can control what information is publicly released while the search continues.”
I looked at my newborn son.
Then at the snow blowing against the hospital window.
Nathan had stood above us and watched me die.
If he believed he'd succeeded, he would become careless.
He might expose Rebecca.
He might expose Hale.
He might expose everything.
“When do I get to see him again?”
“Who?”
“My husband.”
Desai's expression hardened.
“When we have enough evidence.”
I touched Eli's tiny hand.
Nathan had planned my death.
May you like
Now I was going to attend the destruction of his lies.
“Then let him grieve.”
Related Stories
