Chapter 6 - The Call From Airport Security
Aaron Parker had been found alive.
That should have been the good news.
Instead it created ten new questions.
He had a head injury.
His wrists showed marks consistent with being restrained.
His phone and wallet were missing.
So was the employee badge.
Police believed whoever attacked him had kept him inside the maintenance room for nearly three hours.
But one thing had been left behind.
The photograph.
Rachel Parker.
Mr. Buttons.
Blue thread.
The image appeared to have been printed from a phone.
On the back, someone had written:
WHERE IS IT?
Noah did not know any of that.
He knew only one thing.
His father was alive.
For the next hour, that was enough.
He drank his apple juice.
He watched clouds.
He asked whether New York had more skyscrapers than Seattle.
He asked whether rabbits were allowed in Times Square.
He asked if planes ever got tired.
I answered everything I could.
Linda said almost nothing.
Then airport protective services called again.
This time through the captain.
The officer identified himself as Thomas Reed.
“We have a problem with the receiving plan.”
“What kind?”
“Aaron Parker cannot travel.”
“Obviously.”
“The court-authorized backup guardian is unavailable.”
“Who?”
“We cannot disclose until identity confirmation is complete.”
“Then who receives Noah?”
“Protective Services.”
I looked at Jenna.
“Does the protocol allow that?”
“With an emergency amendment.”
“Has that happened?”
“It’s being processed.”
“How long?”
“Before landing.”
I lowered my voice.
“And Margaret?”
“Still detained in Seattle.”
“For how long?”
“That depends on local police.”
“Could she be released?”
“Yes.”
That was not what I wanted to hear.
“Did she leak the itinerary?”
“We don’t know.”
“What about the man who used Aaron’s badge?”
“Unidentified.”
“Camera footage?”
“Partial.”
“Can you send us a picture?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we do not want crew conducting identification.”
I looked at Linda.
“What if a crew member already spoke to him?”
“We know.”
“You know?”
“Gate footage shows Ms. Mercer.”
Linda closed her eyes.
Reed continued.
“She’ll be interviewed upon landing.”
Linda whispered:
“Fine.”
He heard.
“Ms. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Do not discuss the encounter with other passengers.”
Michael Torres was sitting twenty feet away with a video of it.
That horse had left the barn.
Reed asked me to confirm Noah was still in 2A.
“Yes.”
“Rabbit?”
My pulse changed.
“What about it?”
“We were informed by Seattle PD that Aaron was found with a photograph of the toy.”
“So you know.”
“We know enough to instruct you not to open it.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know what’s inside.”
“Could it be dangerous?”
“Unlikely.”
“Unlikely?”
“If there were credible explosive concerns, your aircraft would already be diverting.”
Fair point.
“What do we do when we land?”
“A security team boards first.”
“And Noah?”
“Remains seated.”
“Linda?”
“Also remains onboard.”
Linda looked at me sharply.
Reed continued.
“You and Jenna may be asked to provide immediate statements.”
The call ended.
Linda stepped closer.
“They’re treating me like a suspect.”
“You accepted instructions from a stranger using a stolen badge.”
“I made a mistake.”
“A pretty specific mistake.”
She flinched.
I did not enjoy saying it.
But Noah had been one firm pull away from leaving the safest place his father had arranged.
“What did the man tell you exactly?” I asked again.
“I already told you.”
“Tell me everything.”
She looked toward Noah.
“He said Aaron was unstable.”
“Why?”
“That Rachel’s death had affected him.”
“Did he say how?”
“He said Aaron believed Margaret had caused the accident.”
That was new.
Jenna frowned.
“Did you know Aaron believed that?”
“No.”
“Did Rachel?”
“I don’t know.”
Linda rubbed her arms.
“He told me Aaron had abducted Noah from Margaret after losing custody.”
“And you still didn’t verify.”
“I thought I was helping.”
“You told the boy he didn’t belong in first class.”
She looked away.
“That had nothing to do with custody.”
“No.”
Silence.
It mattered that she admitted it.
Not enough.
But it mattered.
“Why did you assume that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
She looked at me.
Twenty-five years of authority sat behind her eyes.
Then something softened.
“He looked out of place.”
There it was.
Ugly because it was ordinary.
“Because of his clothes?”
“Yes.”
“His age?”
“Yes.”
“Because he was alone?”
“Yes.”
“Would you have approached a six-year-old wearing a blazer and expensive shoes the same way?”
Linda did not answer.
That was the answer.
Jenna looked disappointed more than angry.
Sometimes disappointment cuts deeper.
Linda whispered:
“I was wrong.”
I thought of Noah saying, But I told you.
“Yes.”
She nodded once.
Then returned to the galley.
Two hours later, Noah asked if he could draw his dad a picture.
I found paper.
He drew an airplane.
A very bad airplane.
The wings were different sizes.
One engine appeared to be attached to the tail.
There were two stick figures under it.
A tall one.
A small one.
Between them was a rabbit.
At the top he wrote:
DAD I STAYED.
I had to turn away for a moment.
Michael Torres saw.
He said nothing.
When I finally looked back, he was staring out the window.
We were over Pennsylvania when the next call came.
JFK Protective Services.
Reed again.
“We have confirmed the emergency receiver.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Evelyn Parker.”
I looked toward Noah.
“Relation?”
“Paternal grandmother.”
Another grandmother.
“Is she safe?”
“She is the court-listed backup guardian.”
“Where is she?”
“At JFK under security escort.”
“Does Noah know her?”
“We need you to ask.”
I approached 2A.
“Noah?”
He looked up from his drawing.
“Do you know Evelyn?”
His face brightened.
“Grandma Evie?”
“Yes.”
“She makes pancakes shaped like dinosaurs.”
That was probably sufficient identity confirmation for a six-year-old.
“Do you trust her?”
He gave me the offended look children reserve for stupid questions.
“She has a dog.”
“Right. Of course.”
“His name is Walter.”
“Good name.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Apparently not.
I returned to the phone.
“He knows her.”
Reed’s voice remained tense.
“We still follow full verification.”
“Understood.”
Then he added:
“There’s another issue.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“We located the person whose login accessed Noah’s protected itinerary.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“An airline employee.”
I looked at Linda.
She saw my face.
“No.”
I covered the receiver.
“What?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“I know that look.”
I put the phone back to my ear.
“Name?”
Reed hesitated.
“The access came from a management terminal at Seattle operations.”
“Who logged in?”
“Vice President of Northwest Ground Operations.”
That title landed heavily.
“Name?”
“Charles Vale.”
Linda gripped the galley counter.
“Vale?”
I looked at her.
“You know him?”
Her face had gone white.
“Margaret’s son.”
Noah’s so-called grandmother had a son inside the airline.
A senior executive.
An executive with access to internal systems.
And Aaron Parker’s protected itinerary.
Reed continued.
“We’re locking down his credentials.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
A chime sounded on Jenna’s tablet.
Incoming internal message.
She opened it.
Then froze.
“What?”
The message had been sent from an airline executive account.
One sentence.
Upon arrival, minor passenger Noah Parker is to be transferred directly to Corporate Security Representative Charles Vale.
I looked at Jenna.
“That can’t be right.”
She scrolled.
There was an authorization signature.
A vice president.
A timestamp.
And beneath it a second line.
Court documentation verified.
Reed heard my silence.
“What happened?”
I read the message aloud.
His response came instantly.
“Do not comply.”
“Is it fraudulent?”
“Ryan, Charles Vale is not authorized to receive that child.”
The tablet chimed again.
A second message appeared.
This one was shorter.
Cabin crew acknowledgment required.
Then the cockpit door opened.
The captain looked directly at us.
“Ryan.”
His face was grim.
“Corporate wants Noah brought to the front galley before landing.”
Noah looked up from seat 2A.
May you like
And Linda whispered:
“They found us.”
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