Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Casting such a wide net was a crapshoot, especially since he only knew one thing for sure—his donor had come from the US. The other he guessed based on when he’d had his surgery.
The main hit was notable deaths worldwide, and it listed over ten a day. He’d have to figure out a way to narrow his search. There was no way to obtain this information from UNOS unless the donor’s family gave him permission. He’d have to do it the old-fashioned way, with the help of the internet and obituaries.
All he wanted to know was what his donor was like, and then maybe he could figure out what was going on in his chest.
Grayson opened another browser and typed in the URL for the local newspaper. He clicked on the obituaries, waited, and then stared at the search bar. He had to know the name of the person he sought. He couldn’t put in a date range or a specific date.
Grayson closed the app with a bit more aggression in his finger than needed. He clutched his phone and leaned his head against the window of the train. There had to be a way to find out who had passed locally without having to wait for UNOS.
When his stop was announced, he was so deep in thought that he almost missed it and barely escaped through the closing doors. He rode the escalator up, and when he got outside, he saw a line of taxicabs parked out front of the station, and he made the choice to take one home. Getting home was more important now. Grayson needed to be in front of his computer, with a wider screen, so he could search more effectively.
At the front desk of the apartment building, the receptionist handed Grayson three boxes and a stack of bridal magazines. The sight of them made him smile. Now that they had their location, other things would start to fall into place. They still had time to figure out their guest list, what they were going to feed everyone, and, more importantly, what colors they were going to wear. Grayson thought a traditional black tux would be ideal, but some magazine had told him that black and outdoor spring weddings weren’t always the posh thing to do. Reid thought a suit in linen would be good. Truth was, he’d wear whatever Reid told him to, as long as the scar on his chest was covered. It wasn’t as gnarly as it was when he’d had surgery, but he still saw it as a bright-red line, even though it had faded.
Somehow, he managed to unlock their door without dropping any of the boxes or the numerous magazines that undoubtedly showed the same dress in each one. They had so many of these catalogs, all with dog-eared pages. Reid had asked him not to look, and he hadn’t. He’d never disrespect her by peeking.
After making something to eat, he sat down with his laptop, a pen, and a pad of paper. He stared at the screen for a moment and then typed Who passed away in Washington, DC, along with the date range he’d come up with.
A few names came up. He copied the first one into the obituary section of the local newspaper and read, then read the next, and then the next. Each time, Grayson found something to eliminate the deceased—age or disease, or a wording such as “overdose.”
He searched a few more newspapers but hit roadblocks each time. Mostly because searching for someone who might have donated vital organs was hard, and he honestly wasn’t sure he knew what he was looking for.
And each time he did a search, he grew more and more depressed. On the verge of giving up, he scrolled through a newspaper from beyond DC, and a familiar name caught his attention: Warren and Lorraine Bolton. Grayson clicked and read the first line, about how they had lost their son-in-law, Rafe Karlsson, in a Boston accident.
He’d known the Boltons all through high school but had lost touch after graduation. Grayson had spent many days and some nights, although no one knew about those, at their house, just on the outskirts of the city. He hadn’t thought about them in years.
Grayson continued until he saw which daughter had lost her husband.
He swallowed hard when his eyes landed on her name.
Nadia.
The girl he had dated in high school, until they went their separate ways when they’d left for college, essentially losing touch. Nadia had gone to Boston College, far away from her parents and siblings, needing to spread her wings. Grayson had chosen American. It was close to his mom, and while he wasn’t a mama’s boy, he didn’t want to be too far from her. Before they left for school, they’d agreed it would be best to be single so they could enjoy college without worrying what the other thought.