Read A Rope and a Prayer for Free Online Page B

access the Internet from his guesthouse. He’s there on assignment and is researching a book on the history of American involvement in Afghanistan and Pakistan since 2001—what went wrong and what should be done to remedy the situation. This is David’s final reporting trip to the region. He was scheduled to depart Kabul for Islamabad this morning.
    The phone rings. It’s my brother-in-law Lee. Not a good sign. “Hello,” I say. “Nice to hear your voice, but I am not so sure I want to be hearing from you. What’s wrong?”
    Lee is the person my husband has designated as a first point of contact for all “worst case scenarios.” In the event of a mishap during a reporting trip, the plan is that Lee will be alerted and will in turn contact me. A former member of the Air Force and a pilot, Lee has nerves of steel, but is also a sensitive guy. Three years older than my husband, he has gotten David out of several tight situations. He is the consummate big brother, responsible and protective.
    He laughs, understanding my predicament. “Well, it’s not good. But it could be worse.”
    He tells me that David never returned from his last interview in Kabul, a meeting he had arranged with a Taliban commander. This is news to me. David left a note at the bureau with instructions on what to do should he fail to return in three hours. Lee tells me that David wanted him to wait twelve hours before reaching out to me. “Screw that,” he says. “I figured you would want to know. And I do not want to deal with this alone.”
    Right away, my brother-in-law gains a spot near and dear to my heart. He is right. I would have been absolutely livid had he waited to inform me. David’s need to “protect” me sometimes infuriates me.
    “Christie and I are in Florida on vacation,” Lee says, referring to his wife. “Stay calm. Take a moment to take this in.” My mind reels as I try to process what he is telling me. Then he continues, “You should jump on the next shuttle to Boston. We’ll meet you at Logan.” From there, we will drive back to his house in southern New Hampshire for the night. Apparently a meeting has been scheduled with the local FBI bureau there for early tomorrow morning. The FBI agents contacted Lee after David was reported missing to the United States Embassy in Kabul.
    Shuttle to Boston? I am new on the job and a little busy at the moment arranging the photo shoot. I am trying to locate a reasonable facsimile of the sports bra worn by the hiker, to run as a still along with her portrait. My rational mind grapples for control. Of course, I quickly realize this is absurd. I need to get to the airport as fast as possible. David is my number one priority. I fight a wave of overwhelming terror, fear, and uncertainty. I am momentarily immobilized, numb, as I glance out the window.
    It’s a crisp afternoon. The sky is clear, the river calm. Despite the tidiness of my new, modern surroundings, I feel as if my life has plunged into disarray. I thought I was prepared for this kind of call. Before we married, David and I discussed the inherent risks in his work as a foreign correspondent. We talked about several worst case scenarios, including injury and even death. These tragedies are concrete and would follow a prescribed protocol. But I never anticipated what to do in the uncertain face of David going missing. Here it is, I think, my worst fear come true.
    I call the managing editor at Cosmopolitan and say something vague about a “family health emergency” and that I need to head to New England. She is gracious and does not ask questions. I tell her I will probably be out the next day or so. “Do what you need to do,” she says. She knows that my parents live in Maine. I secretly hope the magazine thinks I am running off to comfort an ailing elderly relative. The real explanation is too absurd to believe.
    By the time I leave my office and head home to collect my things, I am composed and steady. I have