“I know she’ll be happy when it’s over,” Emma said, returning to the room, her eyes red from the tears she’d been wiping away. “She can’t let Brandon go to school, and she has to keep the children inside instead of letting them go out to play.”“I’m sure they are going stir crazy,” Cathy said with a frown. “Especially Grace. That little girl is used to having the freedom of the farm to run and play.”“The only good thing is the weather,” William told them. “It’s been really wet, and she doesn’t like getting her dresses dirty.”“Sounds like her aunt,” Andrew said with a soft chuckle.“Maybe we should take this meeting over to my sister’s,” Cathy suggested with a sideways grin.“Let me call Derek and Kristin,” William said, standing and walking to the phone on the wall. “They wanted to know what you found out.”“Just have them meet us at Sandra’s,” Andrew told him. “We can discuss this all there.”“I thought Sabrina and Irena would be here,” Cathy said, looking at Emma who was wrapping
The room was warm as the setting sun shone through the blinds. Two detectives sat on the sofa, watching as the man continued to pace the floor. Trying to keep him calm was growing increasingly harder with each hour.Creighton could only assume the horror his family was going through, not to mention Sandra. They had been having difficulties, but this made all of that seem trivial. He had to call her, he had to contact her somehow and let her know he was alive, but the police were refusing to allow him the chance. They had to keep him concealed for the time being, though it was steadily becoming impossible. The man was acting like a caged animal, anxiously trying to find a means of escape.“How much longer do we have to sit here?” he growled, looking to those gathered around.“We need you to remain patient for a little longer,” a bald-headed man told him. “Monsieur Ashford, we understand what you’re going through…”“Like hell you do,” Creighton snapped. “I have a pregnant wife at home w
Sandra hung up the phone with a slam, then glanced to her grandparents who were sitting at the kitchen table. She was starting to get angry with all the rejections and dead-end avenues. She called Davies and told him she wanted him to get the plane ready to go to France, only to be told the police had restricted his flying. They were concerned that whomever it was that had killed her husband would try and sabotage the jet.She was getting frustrated and felt like she was being held back. If she didn’t know better, she would think she was being placed under lockdown. She could understand the police’s concern, but she had more men around her then they had at Fort Knox, and she would be willing to take all of them with her if she needed to.“I can’t leave the house, I can’t go to France, I can’t even gather eggs,” she grumbled as she joined the older couple. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t sit here and wait until doomsday to find out what happened to my husband.”“Honey, you’re going
Sandra was a dreamer. She always had been. Her mother used to say her head was in the clouds, and if she wasn’t careful, she would fall to earth with a very unpleasant jolt, and sometimes she thought her mother might be right. She loved reading romance novels and fell in love with the rogue handsome hero, fantasizing that she was the damsel in distress. She watched movies and found herself reliving the love scenes over, and over again, making herself the heroine. She would dream of faraway lands, where great lovers and erotic passion were her staples of life. What Sandra Dennis really wanted was an adventure, something to make her humdrum life seem less boring.The sun from the French Riviera was warm and luxurious as she basked under its heat in her plush lounge chair. The thrill of traveling abroad was a fantasy that embraced her, for most of her twenty-six years. Shortly after graduating college, she found that fantasy taking on a life of its own. She spent the past two years savin
“Um, no, you’re welcome to sit anywhere you’d like. It’s a rather large beach, plenty of room for everyone.” Great, she scolded herself again. If he wasn’t already amused at her inept attempt of verbal communication, now he undoubtedly would be. She sounded like a babbling idiot.“American?” he asked, his smile was dazzling, and it made her heart leap in her chest.“Yeah, that’s right. Is there a problem with that?” Sandra frowned under her Ray-Bans, knowing she sounded insulted, but couldn’t prevent the irritation from trickling through her words.“No, not at all. So, what brings you so far from home?”“Why does anyone visit France? You know, vacation, sun, relaxation, that sort of thing.”“Many visit for other reasons as well. Business, romantic holidays, honeymoons.”“Well I’m not here for any of that.” She tried not to sound as nervous as she felt as the heat rose all the way up to her hair clip. He smiled, handing her the drink that sat on the table and reached for his own gla
Sandra found her place on a bench seat near the port side of the boat - which she had been told was the nautical term for the left side. Next to her were a middle-aged woman and her husband, Angela and Michael Gibbons of New Haven Connecticut, celebrating their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Michael announced that they were there to experience all sorts of new and exciting things, winking at his wife with a seductive smile that made the others in the group chuckle and his wife blush profusely.The skipper of the boat and their diving instructor was a Frenchman named Ruelle Lefebvre, who now stepped onto the vessel and went into the glass-enclosed cabin where the steering wheel was. His sun-bleached hair was shoulder length and pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head, his face and hands tanned and weathered by the many long years at sea. His worn yellow tee-shirt and faded cut-off blue jean shorts stood out in stark contrast to the new pair of black sneakers on his large sock
“Try to keep your breathing even and just flow with it,” he told her as they walked toward the back of the boat. “We’ll go slow and stay close to the surface. Once you get your bearings, we’ll go a little deeper, but I’ll let you set the pace. Alright?” She nodded, feeling a strange thumping of her heart. It was as if he was speaking in a different context than diving, but she was too nervous to concentrate on the undertone of his words.Sandra sat down on the edge of the platform in the back of the boat, pulling her yellow tee-shirt and blue shorts off to reveal the black wet suit she wore underneath, and watched while Creighton lifted the air tank to her back. It was heavy, and she gasped as he tightened the straps across her chest, then smiled reassuringly, slipping the full-face mask over her head. His eyes were dark and danced with an emotion she couldn’t name as he adjusted the harness and valves before sitting down across from her, slipping into his rubber suit and mask.“This
“Don’t worry about it,” he said through her helmet speaker. “It’s not after us, but we should get back to the boat. It’s not safe to tempt fate.” She nodded her agreement and was about to swim back toward the ship when Creighton’s hand stopped her. “Aren’t you going to take a picture? You may never get a chance to see another shark this close.” “I don’t want it to see us,” she whispered and heard the now familiar chuckle through her helmet.“It won’t hear you even if you whisper,” he teased. “Take the picture.” Her hands trembled as she drew the camera up, and she realized she was holding her breath again as she snapped the picture. The shark continued to swim with the rest of the fish, not paying the least bit of attention to the silent spectators. “Are you ready to go back?” Creighton asked, watching as the camera drifted in the water by the strap holding it around her wrist when she let go of it. Her legs were shaking, and she could feel the adrenalin burning within her veins