By the time we made it to the glass doors of customs where seafaring passengers were processed, I was sweaty, angry, and more stressed since I was sentenced to jail for a crime I wished I hadn’t commit.
My system wasn’t running at top capacity and my head swam with nausea. The headaches had faded and the redness on my arm had turned to a blush rather than murder, but I still wasn’t well.
We shouldn’t have to put up with this crap.
We were tired.
We needed to rest.
Can’t they see that?
The man who’d waved us over clanged the door, locking it the moment we were inside. Waving at Stefan and Finnegan, I was glad we’d said goodbye before this circus because our unceremonious parting was short and messy.
Instantly, we were led into a private room away from the hustle of returning holidayers, treated like suspects rather than lucky survivors.
The man’s short hair gleamed like a doberman’s pelt beneath the glaring electric lights; his glasses reminded me how desperate I was to replace my prescription.
My fingers itched to steal his so I might see Estelle, Coco, and Pippa in crystal clarity rather than fuzzy haze.
Motioning us to sit, the man settled at the large table and set the clipboard down in front of him.
Awkward silence fell.
Estelle soothed Coco as she squirmed in the velour chair. Poor kid wasn’t used to plastics and silks and metal. She’d been raised on salt and wood, the stars were her night-lights and the waves her lullabies. This foreign, chaotic world would wreak havoc on her senses.
Hell, it wreaked havoc on mine. I’d forgotten how archaic human interaction could be. How many sensory interruptions we had to phase out in order to pay attention to what truly mattered.
I’d have to re-learn.
And fast.
“So...” I cleared my throat. “What happens next?”
The man clasped his hands. “We’re just waiting on a few others, then we can begin.”
A few others?
Who exactly?
An answer came ten minutes later, after a carafe of water and shortbread cookies on a three-tiered cake stand was placed before us.
A woman joined our party with an identical clipboard, taking her place at the top of the table.
A door opened and shut, reverberating in the all glass room. The clack clack of high heels sent chills down my back.
Pippa turned first.
Of course, it was only right.
Family was family. No matter how much time had passed.
But the way she beamed and burst into thankful tears tore out my heart and smashed it into the untouched shortbread.
“Nana!” Her chair went flying, sending Coco into a squeal of fright. Estelle turned at the same time I did, just as Pippa soared into the arms of a frail grey-haired woman with dangling pink earrings.
Her bony arms came around my child, holding her close to a scratchy woollen suit and well-worn handbag. “Pippa! Oh! I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I should look away as Pippa was graced with a thousand kisses, dotted haphazardly on her forehead. I should be happy that she had one surviving family member.
But I wasn’t.
Because I knew the truth.
This was the last time I would be able to call her mine.
“Ah, Mrs. Evermore. Now that you’ve arrived, let’s begin.” The man motioned for her to take a seat.
However, she didn’t. She remained standing with her arms around my daughter and glowered at Estelle and me. “Where is Conner?”
The interrogation had begun.
She’d not only ripped out my heart by claiming Pippa, but stomped on it, too.
When no one answered, the old woman took a couple of steps forward, dragging Pippa in her spindly embrace. “I asked...where is Conner?”
The first question...the one I’d been dreading.
Her rage increased.
Pippa cried into her nana’s suit, unable to utter the words. She hadn’t spoken them yet. She hadn’t verbally admitted that Conner was dead. Whenever she spoke of him, she used words that were ambiguous. Deliberately ignoring the truth.
That he had gone.
That it wasn’t a lie.
That he’d left her. Me. All of us.
“Answer Mrs. Evermore’s question, if you would, Mr. Oak.”
My attention snapped to the man running his fingers pompously on his clipboard. My instincts kicked in, sniffing for his hidden agenda. Because he had a hidden motive; I just didn’t know what it was.
Estelle wiped away tears and answered for me. “He’s dead, Mrs. Evermore.” Her chin tilted with courage. “He died of stonefish poisoning. There was nothing we could do.”
“Is that the truth?” the officer demanded.
Mrs. Evermore turned puce. “You’re telling me my grandbaby is dead? My son and daughter-in-law? All dead?”
Pippa cried harder, burying her face in her nana’s protection.
Come here, Pippi. I’ll protect you.
Not that crone.
“What do you mean is that the truth?” Estelle balled her hands. “Of course, it’s the truth. What are you implying?”
Coco sniffled and wriggled but didn’t make a peep, her eyes wide with fear.
“I’m implying, Ms. Evermore, that perhaps Mr. Oak had something to do with his passing.”