Wreckage by Emily Bleeker

Author:Emily Bleeker
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781501220883
Publisher: Brilliance Audio
Published: 2015-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

It took Janice from Carlton to give him the lowdown. She said that after the crash, when the black box was recovered, the airline and Carlton Yogurt used Kent as a convenient fall guy. They said the crash was due to human error, Kent’s human error. As a result, his family didn’t get the ten-million-dollar settlement Lillian’s and Dave’s families were awarded. The Carters were livid.

It turned into a massive court battle between the family and the airline, and Janice said it had been a messy and emotional case. Apparently Kent was cited for flying under the influence in ’99 and had his pilot’s license suspended for a year in the States. That’s when he moved to the South Pacific and hired on with the tiny airline called Kanaku, which specialized in private jet charter services. It all looked very bad and at the end of the case, Kent’s family lost and the judge basically called their still-missing son a murderer.

It wasn’t until Dave had been home a week that the anonymous phone calls started. They’d always come just as Dave and Beth were getting ready for bed: three or four rings, and then silence on the answering machine before they’d hang up. Dave changed their number four times in one month.

Dave was standing in his kitchen one night, making a late night snack after Beth had gone to bed. While spreading out the last bit of mustard on a piece of bread, the phone rang shrilly. Dave jumped, dropping the bread face down on the counter. The phone rang again. No time to clean up the mess. He wiped his hands on the hand towel hanging by the sink, and ran for the phone, hoping it didn’t wake Beth. He glanced at the caller ID, sure it would say “Unlisted” but knowing that really meant “Lily.” But, when he lifted the phone off of the charger, the LED screen read “Cellular Caller” and a number he’d seen many times—too many times.

This is getting ridiculous, Dave thought. Hitting the Talk button violently, he attempted to control his voice as irritation shifted into fury. “WHAT do you want?”

A shocked silence returned, only breathing and a TV on in the background.

“I don’t know who you are but you’d better speak up now because tomorrow I’m getting this number blocked on my phone so this is your chance. I know you’re there—I can hear you.”

“Why do you keep lying about my son?” a smoke-scratched female voice answered.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you? Do I know your son?” Why was he trying to talk rationally to the crazy person who had been stalking him? He halfway expected she’d hang up.

“Oh, you know my son,” she sneered. “He’s the man who saved your life. The one who you pretend wasn’t there.”

“Kent?” he asked, the idea slapping him hard in the face.

“Yes, Kent. Kent Carter.” Her voice grew sharp. “Do you know what you’ve done to him? To his reputation? All you have to say is he wasn’t drinking, that it wasn’t his fault, and then they’d all know the truth.

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