Or at least the way it happened for me as I reached the outskirts of Skagway, scanning the unfamiliar scene—seaport, mountains, ocean vessels—looking for a heliport where my husband should be awaiting my arrival. There it was, a flat stretch of tarmac with a half-dozen helicopters sitting like inactive insects resting on bright yellow H’s on the ground. I pulled over near them, spotting our JetRanger’s familiar blue and white paint scheme among the others, and looked at the pickup truck’s trip odometer before shutting off the engine. Three thousand and ten miles from home. It felt so good to get out of that vehicle. The dog apparently agreed. Freckles hopped to the ground and ran circles around me. Drake had been sitting around the FBO awhile; I saw him walking toward me across the airstrip from the tiny fixed base operator’s office with a shorter male figure beside him. We’d made the journey more or less together, switching off between who drove and who flew every couple of days.
What do You think about Legends Can Be Murder (2014)?
