3 Chapter 3: HOT POTATO: MAGGIE

"How soon can we go home?" I asked, as my eyes searched Jeffery's face.

"They're waiting for another round of toxicology results to come back later this morning, just to ensure there was no foul play, then they'll be able to release Shona's body to you. We can book you on the first flight back once we've finalized all the requirements to the Australian authorities' satisfaction.

Numbly, I allowed Jeffery to usher me back to his chauffeur driven car and was driven to the Four Seasons Hotel. Fr8Load's band management had made the travel arrangements, arranged the consulate official, and were paying for the repatriation of Shona's body back to Florida.

Was I supposed to feel indebted about that? I wasn't grateful; that was the last thought on my mind, because if it wasn't for Noah Haxby and his band, Fr8Load, my sister would be alive and at home caring for her child, not lying on a mortuary slab in some foreign country.

Thinking of the arrogant son of a bitch made me seethe with temper. Life was ridiculously unfair when a guy whose name was synonymous with excess and a flagrant disregard for the morals of others could have the privileged life he led when the rest of us who stuck by the rules were dealt a shitty fate in ours.

When Jeffery reached over and took the key card from the male receptionist he passed it to me, asking if I wanted him to see me to my room. I declined. I didn't miss the look of relief on his face before he explained he'd be back first thing the next day but would call if there was any update on "the case."

It wasn't until he made my ordeal impersonal that I remembered he was just doing his job. He was a stranger, yet he had shared one of the most devastating and intimate experiences of my life.

Jeffery waited by one of the tables in the lobby until the elevator doors closed softly and the car whisked me upwards at speed to the high floor where my room was located.

Noah Haxby's personal assistant, Annalise, had made all the arrangements, and called when the front desk informed her I had checked in. I missed the call as I was in the elevator at the time and so listened to the voicemail she left. It was a courtesy call where she advised me she would pay me a visit later. I was thankful not to see her because I couldn't have faced anyone right then. I felt beat; emotionally wrung out from traveling and what I had faced when I got there.

When I had left the US for Sydney my mind had been full of 'What ifs', and 'How am I going to get through this?' kinds of thoughts, but as I began to face the reality of Shona's death I felt dazed. By the time I reached the hotel, my head just wouldn't let my mind entertain the possibility of thinking what the future held.

The bank of elevators couldn't have been situated further from my room, but I had never stayed anywhere so grand before. Checking the doors as I rechecked the number scribbled on my key card folder I soon realized my room was the very last one at end of the corridor. Where else would I be? This is my luck.

I swear I must have used the last of any energy I had in reserve for those final steps and when I entered the room, I barely noticed the plush surroundings. One thing I couldn't ignore was the view. From the huge corner window, I could see The Harbour Bridge to my left and The Sydney Opera House on the right... well, in fact, it was kind of in front of me.

Under normal circumstances, I'd have been excited and thrilled to have had the opportunity to experience Australian culture, but my visit to Australia was far from normal. Plus, I was worn smooth and emotionally drained.

I collapsed backwards onto the bed and instantly felt surrounded by the comfort of the deep pile mattress that sucked me in as I lay staring up at the ceiling. I still held the handle of my carry-on bag. When I realized this, I let it go, and it slid down my leg onto the floor with a dull thud.

Suddenly the previous few hours and what I'd endured crashed down on me and a strangled sob tore from my throat. I'd fought back my grief since I'd stared at my baby sister in death and a tidal wave of grief washed over me. Turning onto my side I curled up into the fetal position and sobbed uncontrollably until eventually, due to extreme exhaustion, I passed out.

***

Feeling my cell vibrate in my jacket pocket pulled me from a heavy dreamless sleep. I struggled up onto my elbows, disorientated. It was daytime again, and the sun cast bright yellow rays of light around my hotel room. Squinting against the brightness, I pulled my phone out and saw the same number as the one who last called me before - Annalise.

"Hello, Ms. Dashwood? It's Annalise here, how was your journey? I tried to call you yesterday, but your phone went to voicemail."

What could I say? The journey was a living hell? I had to sit on a plane for seventeen hours before I saw my dead sister through a thick paned window whilst holding hands with a stranger to confirm she was dead because her driving license and passport with her pictures on them weren't formal enough?

"Okay," I replied in a soft, defeated voice.

"I'm down in the lobby. May I come up to your room?"

Although, the last thing I wanted was to face someone from Fr8Load's crew, I knew it would have been rude to decline. She'd been kind to me. Despite everything, her concern throughout had sounded genuine, and she was the reason I could afford to fly to Sydney.

"Sure. I'm a mess, but... okay." I sighed heavily because I didn't have the energy or the will to resist anything, all fight had momentarily left me. The only true feeling I had was the weight of burden in the pit of my stomach that my horrible nightmare was far from over.

Rising to my feet, I wandered over to the window and pressed my hot forehead against the cool hard glass. Staring down at the people far below on the street, I connected with how far away from me they were. My thoughts flitted, and I wished I could have been any one of them rather than who I was at that moment and what I had to face.

My phone rang again, pulling me out of my drifting thoughts, and I answered, half expecting Annalise to say she was outside the door. Instead, it was Jeffery from the Consulate.

"Hello, Margaret. This is a quick update. I just put in a call to Dr. Spence on your behalf. He said he would chase the lab for the toxicology reports and he'd call you back. When he does, can you update me so I can make arrangements for repatriation of Shona on my end?"

I don't know why, but I became very disappointed in Jeffery. Gone was the compassionate man from the day before, instead there was someone focused on tying up loose ends. He went on to inform me he'd arranged for the delivery of my luggage which had been left in the trunk of his driver's car. From the two sides of Jeffery I'd encountered, I could see why he was suited to the position he held.

Thanking him for his assistance, I ended the call because neither of us had anything else to say. His brisk manner during the call caught me off guard. I don't know what I expected of him or even if I expected anything at all, but the officious tone disappointed me.

I walked over to the nightstand, placing my phone down and shrugged out of my jacket for the first time since I had left the plane. The linen material was crushed and shabby, like I'd slept in it, which of course, I had.

Reaching down, I pulled my carry-on bag onto the bed and opened it. I took out the spare electric-blue silk blouse I had placed in there, along with a set of underwear and some black high waisted pants. Everything else was in my stowed bag. At least I had the presence of mind to pack a spare outfit in the event my bag got lost.

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