Chương 3
I looked toward the back of the plane.
Claire Vance was sitting in 32B.
She was pretending to read something on her phone.
But she was not reading.
Her eyes moved too often.
She looked up whenever someone walked past.
She looked forward whenever I turned.
She was watching.
I lowered my voice.
"Ethan, I need you to tell me something."
He looked nervous again.
"Are you in trouble?"
The question surprised him.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
He shrugged.
"I don't know."
That answer hurt more than anything else.
Because it was honest.
The flight attendant passed by with a cart.
I stopped her gently.
"Excuse me."
She recognized me immediately.
Her expression changed.
A little concern.
A little annoyance.
Not at me.
At the possibility of another problem.
"Is everything okay?"
I glanced at Ethan.
Then at Claire.
"I need to speak with you privately when you have a moment."
She studied my face.
Whatever she saw made her take the request seriously.
She continued down the aisle.
Ethan watched her leave.
"Are you going to tell them?"
"Tell them what?"
"About my mom."
I looked at him.
The fear in his voice was not about his mother getting caught.
It was about what happened afterward.
"I need to understand what happened first."
He nodded.
The answer seemed to calm him slightly.
A few minutes later, the flight attendant returned and crouched beside my seat.
"I'm Maria."
I had not caught her name earlier.
"I'm Daniel."
She nodded.
"Daniel, what's going on?"
I showed her my identification.
Not the entire situation.
Not yet.
Just enough.
I was a contracted forensic investigator.
I was traveling for a scheduled legal proceeding.
The woman in 32B appeared to have prior knowledge of my identity.
Maria looked from the ID to Ethan.
Then back to me.
"How certain are you?"
"Certain enough that I don't want anyone touching my bag."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Did she try?"
"No."
"Then what happened?"
I paused.
Because this was the part people struggled with.
Suspicion was not proof.
Fear was not evidence.
A strange feeling was not enough.
I had spent my career telling people that.
Now I was the person standing on the other side.
"My concern is that she may try something later."
Maria looked toward the back.
"Because of the seat?"
"Because of the seat."
She waited.
I continued.
"She knew who I was before she spoke to me."
That changed her expression.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
She understood the difference.
A passenger wanting a favor was one thing.
A passenger creating a situation was another.
"Quietly."
She looked at Ethan.
"Is he safe?"
The question stayed with me.
Not because I doubted the answer.
Because nobody had asked it yet.
Not the woman who brought him onto the plane.
Not the passengers watching the argument.
Not even me.
"I think so."
Maria frowned slightly.
"You think so?"
I looked at Ethan.
He was staring at his shoes.
"I think he is caught in something he doesn't understand."
Maria softened.
After she left, Ethan sat silently.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The airplane continued moving through ordinary life.
People opened snacks.
A man across the aisle slept with his mouth slightly open.
Someone laughed at a video with the sound too loud before quickly turning it down.
It was strange how the world could continue normally while something terrifying was happening only a few feet away.
That was something I had learned during investigations.
The worst moments rarely came with dramatic music.
Usually, they arrived while someone was buying coffee.
Or answering an email.
Or sitting in an airplane seat.
"Ethan."
He looked over.
"Why did you tell me?"
He stared out the window.
For a few seconds, I thought he would not answer.
Then he said, "Because she lied."
The simplicity of it caught me off guard.
"She lies a lot?"
He shrugged.
"Not about everything."
That was probably the most accurate description of any complicated person.
Not everything.
Just enough.
"My dad says people do bad things when they're scared."
I looked at him.
"Is your dad right?"
Ethan picked at a loose thread on his backpack.
"I don't know."
Neither did I.
That was the uncomfortable truth.
I knew Arthur Vance had done terrible things according to the evidence.
I knew his company had moved money through accounts that raised serious questions.
I knew several employees had refused to cooperate because they were afraid of losing their jobs.
But Claire was still a person.
A person who had made a choice.
A person who had brought her child into that choice.
The plane reached cruising altitude.
The seatbelt sign turned off.
Passengers immediately stood despite the announcement asking them to remain seated for a few more moments.
The man across the aisle complained that his knees were "too old for airline decisions."
A woman behind us laughed.
For one brief second, I almost forgot the situation.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
Unknown number.
My stomach tightened before I even opened it.
The message contained only one sentence.
You should have taken the middle seat.
I stared at the screen.
Ethan noticed my expression.
"Is that her?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the message had not come from Claire's phone.
It had come from a number I did not recognize.
And that meant the woman in 32B might not have been the person I needed to worry about most.
The message remained on my screen for several seconds.
You should have taken the middle seat.
No name.
No explanation.
No threat beyond those six words.
That was what made it worse.
A person trying to scare me would have written something dramatic.
Something obvious.
Something I could dismiss.
This felt different.
It sounded like a reminder from someone who believed they had already won.
I locked my phone and placed it face down on my leg.
Ethan watched me.
"Was it bad?"
May you like
I looked at him.
He was still a child.
