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Stella
Back in the hotel, Blixt host a huge race closing party – simultaneously a celebration of what the runners have been through and a memorial party for Boones. Huge firepits are set out beneath strings of festoon lights, platters of Moroccan tagine and grilled meats served from a buffet, and champagne galore. The atmosphere is festive rather than melancholy. That’s what he would want. He would be proud.
He knew this was coming – the bullet only accelerated his timeline.
I take a moment to drink it in. Not literally, of course. No alcohol for me. I’ve got a new family to keep together, to keep safe. I’ll tell Pete the news tonight. I know how happy he will be to know that I am pregnant.
Boones’s final gift to me: taking the blame for what I’d done, so I never have to reveal the truth. Everyone thinks he was behind the wheel of that Range Rover. That he killed Glenn. That he targeted Ethan.
I toss the memory stick in one of the firepits, watching as the plastic burns, the contents turning to ash.
‘This is how far I’ll go, Dad,’ I whisper.
And I think he would approve.