The vehicle tilted.
Mud collapsed beneath us.
Then the SUV slid nose-first down the bank and hit the Evermere River.
Cold water exploded over the hood.
“Adrian!”
He had already removed his seat belt.
That was the first detail that frightened me.
The second was his window.
It was already open.
Rain poured through it.
He climbed halfway out.
“What are you doing?”
He looked at me.
I had been married to Adrian for three years.
I knew his sleepy face.
His angry face.
The look he wore before difficult meetings.
The way his mouth moved when he was trying not to laugh.
I had never seen this expression.
Nothing.
No panic.
No confusion.
Just acceptance.
“Elena,” he said quietly.
“My belt is stuck.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
The water had reached my ankles.
For a moment I thought I had misheard him.
“What?”
Adrian pulled himself farther through the window.
I grabbed at the buckle.
Pressed the release.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
“Adrian!”
Behind me Noah was struggling with the straps holding his chair in place.
The SUV shifted.
More water rushed inside.
I screamed.
“Help me!”
Adrian paused outside the window.
Then he said the last words I ever heard from him as my husband.
“I’m sorry it had to happen like this.”
And disappeared.
I went completely still.
Only for a second.
Then survival took over.
I yanked the belt.
Twisted.
Pulled.
My fingers found something rough near the latch.
Wire.
Someone had threaded wire around the buckle assembly.
Not an accident.
Not damaged by impact.
Secured.
