Cole spent much of the flight staring out of his window at the Caribbean below. They flew over the same waters where Cole’s year of bad decisions had come to a head. Somewhere below the blue water sat the remains of his last Go-Fast and the body of man he didn’t know but for whose death he bore responsibility. Unlike the shootout in Panama, Cole felt genuine remorse for the stoner who had died when he burned the boat. And on the other end of the Caribbean were the corpses of a husband and wife buried in shallow grave with not so much as a stone to mark their final resting place. And somewhere further south and east sat the remains of Murph’s plane, probably littering the side of some unnamed valley in Venezuela. It was difficult for Cole to let go of Isabella, but in the face of so much death and so many mistakes, it was in fact best for Cole to leave her alone. In France she would be safer than in Martinique. And it seemed as though David had no trouble keeping tabs on Cole’s movements.
