She’d been picturing it every night as she tries to fall asleep, her distraction from the emptiness of Whitney’s room down the hall and because fixating is what she does best.
Could have been somebody inside her house right now, she knows. Could be that the person who did it is eating crab cakes from the caterers and pretending to grieve with everybody else. Could be that they are one of the people who told Luca how sorry they are.
You’re not in Kansas anymore. It was the kind of one-liner that immediately made Justice Wilson write people off as boring and unoriginal, but now she couldn’t help but say it to herself. She was halfway around the world, and she liked it.
The tropics swarmed in as soon as the plane doors opened. Wet, humid air that turned walking into swimming, and palm trees whipping in the wind like they were trying to lure customers in to buy a used car. When she’d left Kansas City this morning, or last night, or whenever it was that she’d gotten on the first plane, the hue of the sky matched the concrete, the people were pale, and everything was cold. Now, she was surrounded by heat and a riot of colour. Turquoise sky, emerald leaves, people with golden-brown skin, airline employees dressed in bright florals with flowers tucked behind their ears or pinned on their shirt. It was the kind of place Justice had always dreamed of, but dang, was it hot.