Liam was dead. She still couldn’t process the reality. The fire department had taken two men away, and the driver was clearly dead. She’d clung to hope that Jesse hadn’t allowed Liam to drive, but when a paramedic asked the survivor his name as he was loaded into the ambulance, the badly burned man had whispered, “Jesse.”
Generations of Irish women before her had faced widowhood with their chins held high. She must show similar strength. A cry of Why Liam, God? hung on her tongue, but she kept it locked inside. There was no answer to such a question. Liam had possessed a strong faith. Her own was weak in comparison, especially now when faced with such suffering.
When she had called the hospital fifteen minutes before, Jesse was still clinging to life. His parents had the top plastic surgeon in the country standing by for 3-D facial reconstruction, and that would be done as soon as he stabilized. She should be glad he lived, but why couldn’t it have been Liam? Why was her husband in the morgue while an eejit like Jesse would recover?
Alanna closed her eyes. Would she want Liam to go through what Jesse was enduring right now? Liam would have been grieved to see his old friend in such bad shape. The doctors had put him into a medically induced coma as they worked to save his life, and she’d been told he would require many surgeries. Maybe Liam was the luckier man.
Her eyes filled again. Liam would never flip his longish hair out of his eyes so he could wink at her. He’d never come in from planting flowers with mud under his fingernails. He’d never step into the yard with his bubble-blowing tools.
How could such a bright light just . . . cease to exist? He’d been her real family. She hadn’t seen her mum or her sister in years, and the Lord alone knew if they were even still on this earth. She touched her belly. At least she had his child.
A knock came on her door, and she turned. The police had called an hour ago, and she’d expected them before now. She opened the door to find Barry standing there with two policemen.
Her manager stood in the hall with his hands in the pockets of his impeccable suit. A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. His grave eyes looked her over, and both policemen were somber.
Alanna focused her blurry gaze on the nearest policeman. She wiped her eyes, then drew in another trembling breath. “Come in.” She stepped aside to allow them to enter, but her pulse throbbed in her throat. “Do you know what happened yet?”
Detective Adams was a small man with red hair. His pale skin was covered by a mass of freckles on his face and arms. The delicate skin under his eyes sagged. He wore khaki slacks and a light-blue shirt. He glanced at his notebook. “A bomb exploded under the car. We’re still investigating.”
“A bomb.” She swayed and reached out to steady herself on an armchair. Someone had done this on purpose. It wasn’t some accident with the petrol tank. Her knees threatened to buckle again, but she managed to stay upright as Ciara, dressed in jeans and a Ceol T-shirt, came rushing through the still open door. She said nothing but came to stand close to Alanna. The presence of her friend gave her strength.
She stared out the window at the rainy Charleston streets. It was a soft old day. The sky was crying for Liam. She tried to focus on what the detective was saying, something about investigating the bomb-making materials, but her vision wavered and her ears seemed to have gone deaf.
“I must sit down,” she murmured.
Ciara guided her into the armchair and pushed her head between her knees. “Breathe.”
Alanna obeyed, and her vision began to clear. When she raised her head, Barry was just ending a call, and the policemen had gone.
Barry knelt in front of her. “I can get Liam’s body transported back to Ireland as soon as his body is released. Adams said he’d push the coroner on the autopsy, and we should be able to leave in three days. Does that suit? I’ll reserve the flights.”
“That’s perfect, Barry.” She fumbled for her purse. “Let me give you my card number.”
“I’ve already taken care of it,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything. I need to go to Dublin on business anyway, so I got myself a ticket as well. If there’s anything else I can do, please tell me, Alanna. I feel badly there’s nothing I can do to help.”
“You’ve already helped so much, Barry.” Her lips felt numb.
“I’ll pick you up at ten on Friday morning to go to the airport. You have my number. Call me if you need anything.” He rose and stepped back.
“I’ll need tickets for the rest of the band. I-I need them with me.” She reached out and sought Ciara’s hand.
“I’m sorry, but no. All that was available were two first-class seats. We can get them the evening flight though.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone now to grieve. I’m so sorry, Alanna.” The door clicked behind him.
She would have liked to have had Ciara with her especially, but it was more important to get Liam back to the Emerald Isle, on his own soil.