Page 65 of The Pact
She sits down next to me, still holding one of my hands. Tears running down her cheeks like she can’t even stop them anymore.
Mr. Grant pulls out his chair and sits across from me.
“What is this about?” I demand the words coming out rough.
His face tightens, and he lets out a sigh. “Are you aware that your sister was in Hawaii?”
I nod. “Yes, she and her husband left last Friday. They come home tomorrow. Why?”
Mr. Grant clears his throat.
“We got a call from the authorities in Hawaii, you’re her emergency contact in her phone. They ran your name to verify your information, but couldn’t reach you, so they contacted us to see if we could,” he says carefully. “There was an accident.”
My heart stops.
He continues. “Your sister and her husband were driving down a mountain road when a flash flood started unexpectedly. There was a mudslide, and their vehicle was swept off the road.”
I stare at him. The words not quite registering.
“They sustained severe blunt force trauma injuries,” he says, voice breaking. “The medical examiner believes they likely died instantly from the impact and the force of the mudslide.”
Died. Instantly.
Savannah.
Chris.
This isn’t possible.
“When?” I say, barely recognizing my own voice.
“Two days ago.”
I blink.Two days ago?
The office is still the same. Mr. Grant’s face still broken. Mrs. Grant’s hand still wrapped around mine.
But none of it makes sense.
Because she called me before she left last week. She was so excited about the trip.
This isn’t real.
It just can’t be.
This has to be a cruel joke.
Some kind of mistake.
Someone got it wrong. Got the wrong family.
Because my sister isn’t dead.
There’s no way.
Everything suddenly feels loud.
I can hear the hum of the heater. The air moving through the vents.
