Death by Divorce (Caribbean Murder #2)

Cindy buckled her seatbelt as the stewardess spoke mechanically, reciting instructions for what to do in the event of a crash. Cindy was used to crashes. When Clint had died, her whole life had crashed. But something good had come out of it: she’d survived and discovered her strength. She’d also learned how to see through people’s lies and disguises, and get to the heart of the truth. Cindy couldn’t be played with anymore. If she could use these gifts now to help a dear friend, then something really valuable could come out of the nightmare she’d been through.

The plane took off swiftly and before she knew it, she was soaring through the sky, looking out at the billowing clouds. Cindy put her head back on the seat, hoping to sleep until they arrived. She closed her eyes and let the plane fly her off into another world, and before long, fell into a light sleep, dreaming of palm trees, blue waters and the sound of gentle waves.

Then, suddenly, she was jarred awake, by a loud, metallic bang.

Cindy awoke with a start as the plane dipped and swirled in and out of bolts of lightning, flashing outside.

We’re experiencing unexpected turbulence,” a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Buckle your seat belts, please.”

Cindy grabbed her seat belt around her waist and buckled it again. The plane shook, dipped, then rose a little. Someone in a back row screamed. They were being rocked back and forth violently by rising winds and pouring rains. Cindy put her hands on her head to keep waves of dizziness from overwhelming her. We’ll get through this, she kept saying to herself, only half believing it. And what if they didn’t? What then?

For a second, she wondered who she would call to say goodbye to. With a shock she realized that Clint was gone, that she was alone. It wasn’t the same calling her sister or parents. They didn’t mean the same to her.

The plane dipped and swooped for what seemed like eternity. Cindy prayed silently for life, for strength, for time to help others, until slowly, the harsh winds died down. They’d passed through the turbulence, were on course. Cindy gave thanks but couldn’t help wondering what else was in store. What other turbulence lay ahead?

*

Thankfully, the landing in Grenada was smooth, and the airport was so empty at this early hour that Cindy picked up her luggage and went through security and customs without a glitch.

She walked out into the main airport, looking at the tropical trees and blue skies and took a deep breath. It was good to be back in the Caribbean again.

As she walked slowly to the passenger pick up, Cindy scanned the place for Dalia, who was supposed to meet her there. There were only a few men waiting for passengers; signs in their hands. Cindy paused and sat down on her luggage. She closed her eyes and let the warm, sweet breezes caress her face. Dalia would arrive soon. She’d never been exactly on time.

Cindy remembered her as the pal she’d had in high school, who loved to tell secrets and dated only the strangest guys. She would talk about them forever, too. Cindy also remembered the long talks they used to have about the future. Dalia had always wanted to be an artist or a nurse. Cindy had wanted to be a reporter for the biggest newspaper around. They’d shared their lives and dreams for a few special years, and then drifted apart when they went to different colleges.

“Cindy, Cindy, is that you?” came an excited voice behind her. She quickly turned.

A tall, slender, beautiful woman in her thirties with flowing auburn hair was rushing towards her. She had a blue silk printed tropical shirt on, shorts, and lots of bracelets. This wasn’t how Cindy remembered Dalia at all.

“My God, Cindy,” the woman came up and threw her arms around her. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different. So many years have gone by. ”

Cindy stepped back and smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you either. You look beautiful, glamorous. ”

Dalia bowed her head a little and then looked up. Cindy scrutinized her face more closely then: the high, sculpted cheekbones and unwavering eyes had always been there, but years ago, in high school, hadn’t been so prominent. Dalia hadn’t yet grown into her full self yet. Back then she wore her hair short and close to her face, and was often awkward and volatile. This was a whole new person greeting Cindy now.

“I can’t believe you actually came down here to help me,” Dalia spoke quickly, her words tripping over each other. “I will never know how to thank you.”

“I’m happy to do this,” said Cindy. ” I hope I can be of help.”

“Of course you can.” Dalia stared at Cindy unbelievingly, as if she were looking at a star. “The news of your finding Clint’s murderer was in all the papers down here. I couldn’t believe it when I read what happened -- and that it happened to you, too. That very second, I had a flash to call you and ask for help. Something told me that you’d be the one to find Ames. ”

Cindy wanted to put her hand on Dalia’s arm, to slow her down, quiet her turbulent thoughts. Dalia was living with big hopes that Cindy had no idea if she could fulfill.

“I’ll try my best to help,” said Cindy.