Miranda hadn’t been here in a year and nineteen days. A quick glance showed that nothing had changed. No new wrecks, no old ones removed.
She headed for the northeast corner where the largest wreck dominated the space.
The shattered middle hundred-foot section of the 747 that was once the most famous crash of them all.
“Can you believe that there are people who don’t know about TWA 800?”
“Twenty-five years is a generation,” Andi reminded her.
“I remember the day it exploded.”
“Because your parents died aboard this flight.”
“Yes.” And somehow Andi’s simple statement made her feel so much better.
“Your life changed that day.”
It had…and it hadn’t.
It was the day she’d discovered the one great passion of her life—aircraft crashes. She’d become obsessed, a natural enough tendency for
