Chapter 4 - The Man Who Never Boarded Flight 271
For the next twenty minutes, nobody told Linda what we knew.
That was harder than it sounds.
Cabin crews work close.
You learn each other’s movements.
You notice when someone suddenly stops sharing information.
Linda noticed.
Of course she did.
She cornered me beside the coffee makers.
“What did operations want?”
“Security follow-up.”
“About Margaret?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“I don’t know enough yet.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Ryan.”
“Linda.”
She stared at me for several seconds.
Then smiled without warmth.
“Be careful.”
There it was again.
Not a threat exactly.
Something worse.
A sentence designed to become innocent later.
I moved around her.
Noah was building a tiny fort around Mr. Buttons using folded napkins.
When I approached, he held up one finger.
“Don’t knock it down.”
“I would never.”
“This is the airport.”
“The rabbit has his own airport?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a ticket?”
Noah frowned.
“He’s a rabbit.”
Right.
My mistake.
I sat on the armrest across the aisle.
“Can I ask you something about your dad?”
He nodded.
“Did he lose anything yesterday?”
“His wallet?”
“Maybe.”
“He loses his keys.”
“What about his work badge?”
Noah stopped arranging the napkins.
“The blue one?”
I did not know what color it was.
“Maybe.”
“He couldn’t find it.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said he was stupid.”
I smiled faintly.
“That sounds like a dad thing to say.”
“He looked everywhere.”
“Did anyone come to your house?”
Noah’s eyes changed.
I immediately regretted the question.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“There was a man.”
The napkin in his hand stopped moving.
“What man?”
“Daddy said go upstairs.”
“What did the man look like?”
“I didn’t see.”
“You heard him?”
Noah nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He said Grandma only wanted to talk.”
My heart sank.
“Did your dad let him inside?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Daddy locked the door.”
There were limits to what I could ask a six-year-old.
We had reached them.
“Okay.”
“Is Daddy in trouble?”
I forced my expression to stay calm.
“No one has told me that.”
That was true.
It was also not an answer.
Noah knew.
Kids always knew.
He looked down at Mr. Buttons.
“My mom used to say grown-ups make weird faces when they lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Your face is weird.”
Fair.
I lowered my voice.
“We’re checking where your dad is. That’s all I know.”
Noah did not cry.
He simply picked up the rabbit and held it tighter.
“When you find him, tell me first.”
“I will.”
I went back to the galley.
Jenna was on the secure phone.
Her face told me something had changed.
“What?”
She covered the receiver.
“They found Aaron’s car.”
“Where?”
“Airport garage.”
“That’s good.”
She shook her head.
“It’s still there.”
“He was supposed to fly separately?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Jenna listened, then repeated what security was telling her.
Aaron Parker had escorted Noah to a private assistance check-in desk at 7:02 that morning.
At 7:19, Noah entered the secured boarding area with a designated child-services agent.
Aaron did not.
He was scheduled to take a different flight leaving forty minutes later.
“Why separate flights?”
Jenna asked the security officer.
She listened.
Then looked at me.
“Protection protocol.”
The logic was grim but clear.
If Margaret or someone helping her tracked one reservation, father and son would not be together.
Noah had a controlled handoff.
Aaron would travel separately and meet him in New York.
But Aaron never boarded his flight.
His car remained in the garage.
His phone had stopped transmitting at 7:31.
“What about cameras?”
I asked.
Security was already reviewing them.
The last confirmed image showed Aaron walking toward the south parking structure.
Alone.
At 7:24.
Seven minutes before his phone disappeared.
“What about the stolen badge?”
“Used at our gate at 7:46.”
A twenty-two-minute window.
Someone took Aaron’s employee credential.
Someone used it to enter a restricted area.
Someone spoke to Linda.
Then Linda tried to move Noah.
I looked at Jenna.
“This isn’t random.”
“No.”
We both looked toward Linda.
She was offering wine to a passenger.
“Could she be involved?”
Jenna whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“She’s worked here twenty-five years.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No.”
We were somewhere over Montana when the captain called.
Airport police had found footage from the parking garage.
Aaron entered Stairwell C.
A second man entered thirty seconds later.
Aaron never appeared on the next camera.
Police had not yet found him.
The captain wanted to know whether we should divert.
Protective services said no.
New York was better equipped for the receiving protocol.
Seattle police were already searching.
The safest thing for Noah was to continue.
I hated every part of that sentence.
When I returned to 2A, Noah was asleep.
His head rested against the seat.
Mr. Buttons was tucked under his chin.
His boarding pass lay on his lap.
A six-year-old with a missing father.
A grandmother who had tried to intercept him.
A stranger carrying his father’s stolen employee badge.
And we were thirty thousand feet above the country.
Michael Torres motioned me over.
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
“The man at the gate.”
“Yes?”
“When he showed Linda the phone, I saw the screen for maybe half a second.”
“What was on it?”
“A photograph.”
“Of Noah?”
“I think so.”
Cold moved down my spine.
“You think?”
“It was a child in a green sweatshirt.”
Noah was wearing green.
“Anything else?”
“The man pointed toward the rear.”
“What do you mean?”
“He made a gesture. Like moving someone backward.”
Exactly what Linda had tried to do.
I stared at him.
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“Because I thought he was asking whether his kid had been upgraded or something. People say weird things during boarding.”
That was true.
Context changed memory.
Michael continued.
“I heard Linda say one other thing.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘I can take care of it.’”
My stomach dropped.
I went directly to Linda.
So much for not confronting anyone.
“Who was the man?”
Her expression barely changed.
“What man?”
“At the gate.”
“I spoke to dozens of people.”
“Dark coat. Showed you a photograph.”
She paused.
Too long.
Then shrugged.
“A passenger’s relative.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t remember.”
“He showed you Noah.”
Her face hardened.
“Who told you that?”
“So he did?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What did he ask you?”
“Ryan, you need to return to your duties.”
“What did he ask?”
Her voice dropped.
“This is becoming inappropriate.”
“A child’s father is missing.”
That landed.
She went completely still.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Aaron?”
The name came out too quickly.
I stared at her.
I had never told her Noah’s father’s first name.
Neither had Jenna.
The file had been turned away when we discussed the guardian.
Linda realized it one second after I did.
Her face changed.
“How do you know his name?” I asked.
She stepped backward.
“Ryan—”
“How do you know Aaron Parker?”
Noah stirred in 2A.
Jenna came out of the galley.
Michael Torres looked up from his seat.
Linda lowered her voice.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
She looked toward Noah.
Then toward the cockpit.
Then back at me.
“I knew his mother.”
“Whose?”
“Noah’s.”
My mouth went dry.
“What are you talking about?”
Linda glanced around.
“Not here.”
“You were about to pull her son out of a protected seat.”
“I did not know the situation had escalated.”
“What situation?”
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them, the authority was gone.
For the first time, Linda Mercer looked afraid.
“Six months ago, Noah’s mother called me.”
“Why?”
“She said if anything happened to her, I was supposed to find Aaron.”
I stared at her.
Noah’s rabbit slipped from his sleeping arms and fell to the floor.
As I bent to pick it up, I heard something inside it.
Not stuffing.
Not a squeaker.
Something hard.
Metal struck against metal beneath the fabric.
I turned the rabbit over.
May you like
Along the repaired crooked ear was a second line of stitches I had not noticed before.
And hidden beneath them was the outline of something rectangular.
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