Enchanted by Ainsley St Claire

Author:Ainsley St Claire [St Claire, Ainsley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-21T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter eighteen

William

It was a glorious afternoon wandering through Independence Hall, showing Quinn the Articles of Confederation, the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution. Despite the long line, she enjoyed seeing the Liberty Bell. I love that she was excited like a young schoolgirl—just eager to take it all in. Having never been to Philadelphia, she kept saying, “I need to come back. There’s so much to see and do here.”

When we get to the car, we decide to go over to the Reading Terminal Market, and we wandered through stall after stall of bright fruit, stunning cut flowers, delicious meats and sausages, and every kind of art for sale.

I picked up a mishmash of dinner, and we split a roast pork sandwich, doughnut, an apple dumpling, a soft pretzel, a whoopie pie, and scrapple. It was quintessential Philadelphian and the perfect dinner. Quinn is comfortable at Lacroix eating a Michelin three-star dinner or eating out of paper food containers.

“What a great junk-food-filled day,” Quinn gushes. “I feel fantastic; this is exactly my kind of day.”

As I look at her, I see everything I’ve always been looking for in a woman. When we get in the car, Gerald informs me that he’s forwarded a report regarding the helicopter crash to my email. “I wanted to alert you, so you didn’t miss it tonight.”

I had hoped for a little bit more exercise in the sheets when we returned to the hotel, but it’s quite fine to wait so I can read this report.

When we arrive at the hotel, Quinn excuses herself and leaves me to read the report on my own while she has some work to do. She escapes to her room with her laptop. I watch her retreat, and I really hope she’s not going to have phone sex with strange men tonight. I’m really not sure I want her doing that anymore. I’d like to see her using that dirty mind with me and not sharing it with anybody else. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to share her. Before I get lost in that rabbit hole, I open up my email and download the helicopter crash report.

It’s partially in English and partially in Swahili, and I struggle to cut and paste passages into Google Translate. From what I can piece together, it looks like the crash is being attributed to foul play. They believe that there are three bodies plus the pilot, but they can’t determine anything about them. I know we sent copies of my father’s dental records and a DNA sample, but apparently, the fiery crash left nothing but ashes in a pile of rubble in a difficult to reach location.

This report confirms my belief that there’s foul play involved in the accident. That then raises the question of why the FBI is involved. It doesn’t make sense that they’re looking at SEC violations.

“What did you learn?” Quinn asks.

I look at the clock on my computer and see it’s been several hours. I sigh deeply. “They think it’s foul play, and the crash is in an area they can’t easily get to.

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