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The automatic doors behind us slide open. A small woman blazes inside. She’s wearing a brown wig, a puffy yellow dress with a hoop, elbow-high satin gloves, and heavy makeup.
Because my life is not bizarre enough as it is tonight.
“Lord! Tell me it ain’t true!” the strange woman wails in a southern accent.
Winnifred.
She either came straight from the theater or developed an extremely questionable fashion sense between Italy and now.
Her trim waistline doesn’t scream pregnancy. I’d forgotten to ask Grace if she was knocked up. It seemed of no importance at the time, when we were neck deep in wedding preparations.
Now I’d never get the chance to ask Grace about the unlikely Ashcroft couple.
Never get the chance to do a lot of things with her.
“Where is he?” Winnifred demands, looking left and right frantically. “I need to see him!”
Two officers rush toward her, trying to calm her down.
Grace went to Zurich with Paul. Well, that makes sense. He was her boss.
“I’m going to see if they can accept you now.” Officer Hannah rests her hand on my arm. “I can’t find the receptionist, but someone should be here to help us. Officer Damien went to see if we could get the dental records of those who were on the flight. We’ll be right back, Mr.Corbin. Please wait here.”
The words brush past me. I’m more focused on Winnifred, who looks like the human answer to a dumpster fire, tears running down her face, leaving pale streaks of makeup. She is speaking to two officers. Maybe they have more information than the two clowns who knocked on my door. I strain my ears, piecing together parts of the conversation.
“... private plane ... certified pilot ... a seasoned professional ...”
“... preflight inspection ... poor tire condition ... bear no legal responsibility, but a lawyer will be able to tell you more ...”
“... no one is certain ... these things unfortunately happen ... anyone you’d like to call?”
Sharp, intense agony slices through me for the first time since this shit show unfolded. The prospect is becoming real, and with it, the consequences of losing the only person in this world I truly care about.
Everything I didn’t feel when Douglas died—the sorrow, the pain, the helplessness—is now cutting my inner organs into thin ribbons. I want to get closer, to hear everything. At the same time, I want everyone to shut the hell up. For this nightmare to go away.
Grace, enchanting as she is, isn’t the most trustworthy person on planet Earth.
She lied to our parents about me.
Lied to the world about our relationship for years.
Nothing stopped her from lying to me about her flight details.
At some point, the two officers who speak to Winnifred step outside, and we are left alone. Her red, bloodshot gaze lifts from the floor. Once she registers me, recognition kicks in. She looks like she’d love nothing more than to club me with one of the empty benches in the waiting room.
“Stop looking at me like a fawn. It’s not them,” I bite out, baring my teeth like a ghastly beast. “They’ve got the wrong people. We’ll be out of here before dawn.”
“You can’t be serious.” She lets out a pained moan. “Do you actually believe it’s an identity mix-up?”
“Yes,” I say tersely. “And I’m not willing to be persuaded otherwise by a fully grown woman wearing a Disney princess dress.”
She turns her head in the opposite direction and closes her eyes, pressing her lips together. Let her hate me. I care only about Grace.
I start pacing. What’s taking them so long? You can’t call people to recognize a body in the middle of the night and then keep them waiting for hours. After fishing my cell phone out, I googleprivate plane crash Teterboro Airportand click on the news tab. There is one lone article about it, vaguely explaining there was a crash during takeoff and that the details are currently being investigated.
The officers return with a sleepy-looking receptionist and the two officers who came with Winnifred.
The four officers ask both of us to step aside with them to try to piece the timeline together.
