Page 26 of The Fall Before Flight

“Thank you, Amelia.”

I look up from a pile of twisted, naked Barbies. “If I clean up, can I have ice cream after dinner?”

She laughs, eyes sparkling. “My little deal-maker. Of course. Ice cream it is.”

“None for Jameson?”

She winks. “We’ll see. Be back soon. Love you, Amelia.”

“Love you, too, Mommy.”

“The lesson was at six and they were always home by seven fifteen,” I say vacantly. “By eight, Jameson and I were starving. We asked my dad for dinner, but he yelled at us, so we sat together on the couch downstairs and waited.”

“Your father didn’t realize how late it was?” asks Chastain.

I shake my head. “When he was working on a case, he tended to lose track of time.”

“Please, continue.”

I clear my throat. “Jameson answered the door. Two cops. We weren’t stupid. We knew something had happened to Mom and Phillip. I remember thinking they must have drowned, because they were both afraid of water. But it had rained while they were at swim class and the roads were slick. Some kid in his daddy’s Mercedes took a turn too fast and spun out, hitting them. They went off the road.”

“Was Phillip in a car seat?”

My breath hitches; darkness crowds my mind. “Yes, but the car hit the back passenger side directly. Mom died when the airbag malfunctioned and her head hit the steering wheel, breaking her neck. She shouldn’t have died, really. Neither of them should have. Bad luck.”

“I’m sorry, Amelia.”

He sounds like he means it, but I also know he’s waiting for the rest.

“A neighbor came over to watch us so Dad could go with the officers. Mrs. Clemens, I think her name was. Nice lady. Held Jameson while he cried.”

“You didn’t cry?”

“Not then. I told them I was going upstairs to my room, then put on my bathing suit.”

“Ah,” he says, like some puzzle piece has fallen into place. “It was too easy to just jump in the swimming pool, wasn’t it?”

I blink burning, dry eyes. “Yes,” I say in a voice I don’t know—raw and raspy. “I wanted to be close to them. I wanted to feel afraid.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. But I tried. I went into the attic and out the window onto the roof. It wasn’t the first time I’d gone up there, but I’d never jumped off before. The pool wasn’t that far. I thought I could make it.”

“But the possibility of not making it?”

“Yes, smartypants. That’s why I did it.”

He doesn’t acknowledge my nickname, not that I expected him to. “And you broke your arm?”

I nod. “Nearly cracked my head on the lip of the pool. Flinging my arm out gave me the winning inch.”

After a small pause, he asks, “Have you had any other close calls?”

“You know I have,” I say, eyeing him. “I’m sure Jameson told you.”

“I know about the cliff-diving in San Diego when you were pulled into the rocks by rip currents, and I know about the base jump into the Cave of Swallows when your chute malfunctioned.”

I smile grimly, nodding at him to continue.

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