Introduction – The Promise
I often expressed to Kendra my promise that I would love her unconditionally until there were no more tomorrows. Was today our last day? Would there be a tomorrow for me and Kendra?
Chapter 1 -The Call
I received a telephone call advising that Kendra was being transported by medivac to Mercy General Hospital. All I was told was that Kendra was badly injured and I needed to be at the hospital without delay. I called Margo, my neighbor, and she agreed to watch Cassandra, our three year old daughter while I raced to the hospital, consumed by my fear and trepidation of not knowing what happened to my young wife.
It had been close to seven months since I last saw, much less heard from Kendra. The last time she was home, she had completed an undercover operation as a FBI Analyst and she appeared happy to be at home once again. Kendra had received two commendation medals for her outstanding work as an Analyst and she promised me and Cassie that she was home to stay; at least for a little while. I asked Kendra, “Why only for a little while? You are my wife and mother of our child. How can you justify leaving so quickly, or expect that we will somehow understand what you are involved in?” Kendra explained that she would need to debrief her Ops, but that wouldn’t take more than a couple days. I had to ask Kendra if there was someone else she had been living with, and if so, what was her intention as to her family that missed her so greatly. Kendra promised that there was no one else and she would love me until there are no more tomorrows. Kendra held me and said, “Please Brad, let me do my job and debrief my Ops and then I can tell you everything. Until then, I am not at liberty to say anything without possibly compromising my criminal investigation.”
Kendra was home for a few days when she received a call from Julie, the District Director’s assistant asking her to come in and debrief her last Ops. The FBI District Headquarters was located twenty-six miles from our home and I offered to drive Kendra. She replied, “Thanks, but the office has two field agents that will swing by and pick me up on their way into the district office. I’m sorry Brad, but Chuck, the District Director, wants a full debriefing and I have to go in.” That was the last time I had spoken to Kendra before receiving the telephone call that brought me into the hospital.
I arrived at the Mercy General Hospital Emergency Room entrance and parked my car in front of the double Emergency Room entry doors. I stepped out of my car and heard an attendant yell, “Hey, asshole, you can’t park there!” I threw him my keys and ran into the ER asking for my wife. The charge nurse asked me to slow down and catch my breath, as she asked me the obvious question, “What is your wife’s name?” I replied, “Kendra Deacon. I was told that Kendra was flown in today by a medivac helicopter.” The floor nurse replied, “Oh! Her.” She explained to me that Kendra was in the ER undergoing triage to ascertain the nature and extent of her injuries.” I asked, “Do you know what happened to Kendra?” The nurse replied, “No. I have not heard anything. She was flown in and immediately moved into the ER triage unit.” I asked, “Do you know what is wrong with her?” The nurse replied, “I will leave that up to Dr. Mott, the ER physician in charge tonight.” I asked, “Where is Kendra – what room please?” Nurse Stevens said, “Room 8, but you cannot go in there. You must wait out here in the ER waiting room and the doctor will speak with you when she can.”
Nurse Steven’s limited knowledge left me wanting for so much more information about Kendra’s well-being. I arrived at Room 8 and stared at the “No Admittance” sign as I pushed open the ER door and saw Kendra lying on a gurney. I yelled, “Kendra!”, but she didn’t move or respond to me in any manner. Her soft brown hair was soaked and matted in dried blood as was her dress and knee high socks. I noticed that Kendra’s hair was in a ponytail; something I liked, but Kendra liked her hair loose. I loved watching Kendra shake her head and her hair would float through the air as each strand shined and glimmered in the morning sunlight. Kendra was beautiful, even now as she lay on the gurney unresponsive to my calls. I knew the real Kendra and I have loved her since childhood. I also noticed that Kendra’s dress and knee socks were more akin to a junior high girl’s peasant dress which was popular at the time. I had to wonder why Kendra would be dressed like that. To the best of my knowledge, Kendra didn’t even own such a dress. I stood near Kendra and saw that her jaw was broken and she was missing several teeth as I stared at her blood stained face. I also observed bones protruding from Kendra’s right leg and heard her gasping for air as she lay on the gurney. To me, it looked like Kendra had been hit by a large truck. I lost it and began to openly cry for my wife, asking, “What happened to my wife and who would do this to such a beautiful girl?”
I held Kendra’s blood stained hand as Dr. Mott fed a large tube down her throat and then turned on the respirator. Kendra appeared to be breathing better. I continued to hold Kendra’s hand when Dr. Mott yelled, “Sir, you need to get out of this ER room immediately or I am calling security.” I refused to leave Kendra and Dr. Mott had an orderly call security while she threw me a surgical gown and mask to wear temporarily. Dr. Mott asked me, “Who are you? Do you know this young girl?” I replied, "Yes. Her name is Kendra Deacon. She is my wife.” Dr. Mott replied, “I doubt that. This girl doesn’t appear to be much older than fourteen, maybe fifteen years old.” I replied, “Kendra turned 22 last week. She is petite and very young looking. I have been married to her since she was sixteen years old and we have a three year old daughter at home.”