He Kissed My Forehead… Then Pushed His Pregnant Wife Out of a Helicopter

The wind carried me away from the ocean and toward a strip of scrub-covered land above the cliffs.

I hit hard.

Pain tore through my left ankle, and I rolled onto my side, wrapping both arms around my stomach.

"Baby. Please."

A kick answered me.

I laughed once, then cried so suddenly I could barely breathe.

My phone was gone. My handbag was still in the helicopter. Richard had arranged everything perfectly. No witnesses close enough to see the push. No easy way for me to call for help.

Then I remembered the tracker.

Evelyn had insisted I wear a small emergency locator clipped inside my bra whenever I traveled with Richard. I pressed it three times.

A tiny green light began blinking.

Above me, the helicopter had disappeared.

Twenty minutes later, I heard an engine on the coastal access road. A ranger truck stopped near the trail, and two people ran toward me.

"Ma'am, don't move."

"My husband pushed me out of a helicopter."

The older ranger stared at me.

"Your husband did what?"

"Richard Hayes. Call the sheriff. And call Evelyn Shaw. Tell her the contingency happened."

His expression changed at the word contingency.

At the hospital, doctors checked the baby first. Her heartbeat was strong. I had a fractured ankle, bruised ribs, and a shoulder injury, but no internal bleeding.

Then Evelyn arrived.

She did not hug me until the nurse closed the door.

When she finally did, her hands shook.

"He tried," she whispered.

"And he saw the parachute."

Evelyn stepped back.

"Then we cannot let him know where you are."

I stared at her.

She reached into her bag and placed a sealed envelope on my blanket.