Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 62

From: Welch, H. C.

Subject: NTSB Report

Date: July 29 2011 18:57

To: Christian Grey

Cc: J B Taylor

Mr. Grey

Attached is the detailed report from the National Transportation Safety Board. They have been more

than thorough and confirm sabotage. The fuel lines were cut, allowing aviation kerosene to leak into the

engines.

The report has been forwarded to the FBI and will be used to continue the criminal investigation.

Fortunately, the NTSB has kept them updated and the FBI dusted for prints last week as part of their

investigation. They are in the process of eliminating the engineers and ground staff from their inquiries,

but at present they’re no nearer to finding a suspect.

Tomorrow I’d like to move the Gulfstream to Sea-Tac, so you’ll depart from there and not Boeing Field.

I’ll arrange for you to be dropped off airside.

I’ve added four additional security officers to your wedding detail. Résumés are attached. Taylor has

approved them. Two of them have been dispatched to the wedding venue to keep watch overnight.

Apologies for this arriving on the eve of your nuptials.

Leave this with us. And try to enjoy your big day.

Welch

Fuck. Our instincts were right.

But who wants to kill me? Who?

I type a quick response to Welch.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: NTSB Report

Date: July 30 2011 12:23

To: Welch, H. C.

Cc: J B Taylor

Agreed. And thanks.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I toss back the remains of my Armagnac and decide to read the full report in bed. I’m on my own

because Ana left with my parents to stay at their place tonight.

To hell with these stupid traditions.

She should be here. With me. I miss her.

At least Sawyer went with her. He’ll watch over her.

As I gather up the pages of the NTSB report from my printer, my mood grows bleaker. I am done with

this shit.

The report is extensive and rather dull, but in spite of my drooping eyelids, I manage to finish it. The

next steps are to hand Charlie Tango over to the FBI, and once they’ve finished with her, they’ll return

her to Eurocopter for a full assessment. I’m hopeful she can be repaired and GEH won’t have to deal

with any insurance adjusters.

I switch off my side light and stare up at the ceiling.

Why is this happening the night before my wedding?

I’m shrouded in darkness, and conscious of an empty feeling creeping into my chest. I’m now able to

recognize it as loneliness; my heart is missing a piece, as Ana is not beside me. Though, strictly

speaking, I’m not alone. My future father-in-law is probably asleep above me, Elliot is in the spare

bedroom next door, and the staff quarters are almost at capacity. But Anastasia Steele is conspicuous

by her absence. I wish she were here; I’d wrap her in my arms and lose myself in her. I’m tempted to

text her, but it might wake her, and she needs her sleep. Fuck it. Without her, I’m lost. And someone

out there wants me dead, and we don’t know who.

Damn. Push it from your mind, Grey.

I close my eyes.

Breathe, Grey. Breathe.

I start counting sheep.

We are soaring. Ana is in front of the cockpit, her hands stretched out to the canopy, squealing with joy

and wonder. My heart is full. This is happiness. This is love. This is what it feels like. We’re on top of

the world. Our life stretched in a colorful patchwork of greens and browns beneath us. I bank, and

suddenly I’m in a tailspin. Ana is screaming. Screaming. We’re in Charlie Tango and we’re losing

height. I smell the fire. I’m fighting the controls to keep my helicopter upright. I need to find a place to

land. All I hear is the roar of the engines and Ana screaming. We’re going down. Fuck. Spinning. Down.

Down. Down. Shit. I’m going to hit the ground. No. No! Ana is lying on a sticky green rug. I’m shaking

her. She won’t wake up. Ana. Ana. Ana! There’s a crash. And he fills the doorway. There you are, you

little shit! No. No. Ana. Ana. Ana!

I’m jerked awake, a fine film of sweat bathing my chest and stomach in the first blink of dawn.

It’s too early.

I rub my face, bringing my breathing and terror under control, then close my eyes and turn over.

Reaching out, I grab Ana’s pillow and tug it toward me. I immerse myself in her scent. Ah…

Grandpa Theodore hands me an apple. It’s bright red. And sweet. There’s a light breeze on my face.

It’s cooling in the sunshine. We stand together in the orchard. He holds my hand. His palm is rough

with calluses. Mom and Dad and Elliot are coming. They have a picnic basket. Dad lays out the

blanket. And Ana sits down on the blanket. Ana. She’s here. With me. With us. She laughs. And I

laugh. Ana caresses my face. Here, she says. And she hands me Baby Mia. Mia. And suddenly I’m six

again. Mee-a, I whisper. Mom looks at me. What did you say? Mee-a. Yes. Yes. Darling boy. You have

your words. Mia. Her name is Mia. And Mommy starts to cry happy tears.

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