Twenty-Seven
The problem with the “keep your enemies close” approach was that you had to put up with them. Waverly didn’t make it easy. She texted him from Anchorage that she’d changed her plans and needed a pickup at the tiny Lost Harbor airport.
Did you find something? he texted back.
Just pick me up.
He waited in the parking lot for her at the single-runway airport. In mid-September, it already felt like fall. In the woods nearby, birch leaves fluttered to the ground in showers of faded yellow. As he watched her descending plane wobble in a gust of wind, he thought about Carole. He’d hated airplanes ever since her fatal crash, but she’d hated them long before that. She’d always had a fear of flying, which made it even more excruciating that her last moments had been spent in a crash
