Chapter 8
Sienna
Back in the clearing, Jack calls nine-one-one and explains our situation in terse military-speak while I sit in the back of his SUV, trying to get the smell of Adrian’s body out of my nose. He was thinner than my husband, his hair lighter, and his features softer. I recall laughing with his wife on my wedding day.
It’s terrible, but when I first thought the body belonged to Peter, I was relieved, almost happy, but after I squatted and looked closer, a sense of sadness overwhelmed me.
Now, tears roll down my face and I don’t know why. I only met Peter’s brother a couple times. Without warning, I flash back to the weeks right after the plane went down. Night after night, day after day, I held vigils, waiting to hear. Finally, the coast guard found the wreckage using some kind of sonar. They said two bodies were in the plane, not one, and they were charred beyond the ability to test for DNA.
More memories flood and I can’t believe I’m sobbing when Andy slides into the back seat next to me.
“You knew Adrian that well?” Eyebrows go up in surprise as he hands me a handkerchief.
I shake my head no, wipe my nose, and force the sobbing to stop so I can take a deep breath.
Outside, the sun creeps higher into the sky, sweat drips down my back, and somewhere, a chick-a-dee laments with a chorus of cicadas.
Andy’s warm hands clasp over mine. “Just know I’m here for you.”
I nod, unable to explain why I’m crying because I have no idea. He reaches over the front seat and returns with cold coffee.
“Drink.”
I take a sip and grimace. Jack must’ve stopped some time during the night. The liquid was probably awful when it was hot. Now, it’s just plain disgusting. I wipe my eyes and glance into Andy’s smiling face. He knew it would knock the shock right out of me.
I hold up his square of cotton cloth, wondering what kind of man still carries a handkerchief and he laughs when I try to give it back.
“Keep it.” Dark eyes hold me in their gaze making me feel safe which is ridiculous considering my former brother-in-law’s body is just a few feet away.
Still, I can’t help but ask. “You’ll help me? With the police?”
“Don’t worry. I got this.” He pats my hands like I’m a little kid which makes me work harder to pull my shit together.
I wad the cloth in my fist. “You know, up until that crash I did love that asshole.”
“You don’t have to explain any-”
“But I want to.” I take a deep breath. “After the police discovered one of the bodies in the plane was a woman, I was no longer a grieving newlywed, I was their prime suspect.”
“I remember.” Andy chucks up on my chin forcing my eyes to his but I can’t linger so look away. It’s too embarrassing to be such a rube, a dupe.
I play with the white square, AQ embroidered in the corner. “When the will was found, Peter’s family dug up a pre-nup with my signature but I swear to God, I never signed any such paperwork. That’s why I got jack shit when Peter died. Frankly, by then, I didn’t care. I figured I was lucky to be alive.”
“Those bastards. I’ll help you get your share.”
My chest constricts as I grip onto his arm. “God, no. I don’t want anything.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You can’t tell a living soul.” Heart thumping, I look around the open field to make sure no one is listening.
Andy cups my cheeks, holding my gaze. “We have attorney-client privileges, better than a confessional.”
Even so, I lean into his ear and lower my voice to barely a whisper. “Okay. Peter Olafson was in deep with the Buonanno crime family. I mean heisin deep.”
I give my lawyer credit. Other than a small tic at the right eye, we could be talking about the weather. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Early on in our marriage, when Peter wasn’t looking, I watched him open his safe. Inside, there’s a hard drive with names and dates.”
