Chapter 62


    From: Welch, H. C.


    Subject: NTSB Report


    Date: July 29 2011 18:57


    To: Christian Grey


    Cc: J B Taylor


    Mr. Grey


    Attached is the detailed report from the National Transportation Safety Board. They have been more


    than thorough and confirm sabotage. The fuel lines were cut, allowing aviation kerosene to leak into the


    engines.


    The report has been forwarded to the FBI and will be used to continue the criminal investigation.


    Fortunately, the NTSB has kept them updated and the FBI dusted for printsst week as part of their


    investigation. They are in the process of eliminating the engineers and ground staff from their inquiries,


    but at present they’re no nearer to finding a suspect.


    Tomorrow I’d like to move the Gulfstream to Sea-Tac, so you’ll depart from there and not Boeing Field.


    I’ll arrange for you to be dropped off airside.


    I’ve added four additional security officers to your wedding detail. Résumés are attached. Taylor has


    approved them. Two of them have been dispatched to the wedding venue to keep watch overnight.


    Apologies for this arriving on the eve of your nuptials.


    Leave this with us. And try to enjoy your big day.


    Welch


    Fuck. Our instincts were right.


    But who wants to kill me? Who?


    I type a quick response to Welch.


    From: Christian Grey


    Copyright by N?v/elDrama.Org.


    Subject: NTSB Report


    Date: July 30 2011 12:23


    To: Welch, H. C.


    Cc: J B Taylor


    Agreed. And thanks.


    Christian Grey


    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.


    I toss back the remains of my Armagnac and decide to read the full report in bed. I’m on my own


    because Ana left with my parents to stay at their ce tonight.


    To hell with these stupid traditions.


    She should be here. With me. I miss her.


    At least Sawyer went with her. He’ll watch over her.


    As I gather up the pages of the NTSB report from my printer, my mood grows bleaker. I am done with


    this shit.


    The report is extensive and rather dull, but in spite of my drooping eyelids, I manage to finish it. The


    next steps are to hand Charlie Tango over to the FBI, and once they’ve finished with her, they’ll return


    her to Eurocopter for a full assessment. I’m hopeful she can be repaired and GEH won’t have to deal


    with any insurance adjusters.


    I switch off my side light and stare up at the ceiling.


    Why is this happening the night before my wedding?


    I’m shrouded in darkness, and conscious of an empty feeling creeping into my chest. I’m now able to


    recognize it as loneliness; my heart is missing a piece, as Ana is not beside me. Though, strictly


    speaking, I’m not alone. My future father-inw is probably asleep above me, Elliot is in the spare


    bedroom next door, and the staff quarters are almost at capacity. But Anastasia Steele is conspicuous


    by her absence. I wish she were here; I’d wrap her in my arms and lose myself in her. I’m tempted to


    text her, but it might wake her, and she needs her sleep. Fuck it. Without her, I’m lost. And someone


    out there wants me dead, and we don’t know who.


    Damn. Push it from your mind, Grey.


    I close my eyes.


    Breathe, Grey. Breathe.


    I start counting sheep.


    We are soaring. Ana is in front of the cockpit, her hands stretched out to the canopy, squealing with joy


    and wonder. My heart is full. This is happiness. This is love. This is what it feels like. We’re on top of


    the world. Our life stretched in a colorful patchwork of greens and browns beneath us. I bank, and


    suddenly I’m in a tailspin. Ana is screaming. Screaming. We’re in Charlie Tango and we’re losing


    height. I smell the fire. I’m fighting the controls to keep my helicopter upright. I need to find a ce to


    Down. Down. Shit. I’m going to hit the ground. No. No! Ana is lying on a sticky green rug. I’m shaking


    her. She won’t wake up. Ana. Ana. Ana! There’s a crash. And he fills the doorway. There you are, you


    little shit! No. No. Ana. Ana. Ana!


    I’m jerked awake, a fine film of sweat bathing my chest and stomach in the first blink of dawn.


    It’s too early.


    I rub my face, bringing my breathing and terror under control, then close my eyes and turn over.


    Reaching out, I grab Ana’s pillow and tug it toward me. I immerse myself in her scent. Ah…


    Grandpa Theodore hands me an apple. It’s bright red. And sweet. There’s a light breeze on my face.


    It’s cooling in the sunshine. We stand together in the orchard. He holds my hand. His palm is rough


    with calluses. Mom and Dad and Elliot areing. They have a pic basket. Dadys out the


    nket. And Ana sits down on the nket. Ana. She’s here. With me. With us. Sheughs. And I


    again. Mee-a, I whisper. Mom looks at me. What did you say? Mee-a. Yes. Yes. Darling boy. You have


    your words. Mia. Her name is Mia. And Mommy starts to cry happy tears.


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