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“Oh…yeah. Yeah, everything looks good.”
My reassurance seems to ease her mind as she takes her seat. I follow suit, taking mine beside her. She rests her head on the back of the seat. The window screen is open, but she’s already closed her eyes.
I decide against trying to get her to talk it out with me. Thankfully, it’s not a long flight. I can get a little work done, and she can get some rest.
I have an uneasy feeling sitting on this flight. Maybe because I know this is a shit airline. I glance over at Nora, her eyes closed. We’ve already fastened our seatbelts and ready ourselves for take-off. I doubt she has fallen asleep. She’s likely praying for the safe arrival of her luggage. A chuckle slips out, picturing her small wave goodbye to her things.
“What’s funny?” she whispers without opening her eyes.
“Nothing. Are you comfortable?” I want to be sure she doesn’t feel uneasy, too.
She barely cracks her eyes open. “What do you think?” she says with a slight grin.
I don’t have time to answer. The plane taxis forward onto the runway.
“Lord, let us arrive alive,” I whisper.
I look over at Nora. Her eyes are closed again. Whatever uneasiness she had earlier seems to have subsided. Once we level out in the air, I feel a little better, too. I pull my laptop from my bag again, deciding to go through the surveillance videos again myself. I’m sure nothing was missed, but I want to keep the images fresh in my mind.
Once I have the videos pulled up, I click the first one. This is from the sidewalk in front of the hotel where Nora and I stayed. It’s a short clip, nothing out of the ordinary. He strides right through the front door like he belonged there. His hat is pulled down tight, preventing a clear view of his face.
I play this clip a few times back-to-back, slowing it down.
“There’s nothing here I can use,” I mutter under my breath.
I click the arrow to bring up the next clip. This one is the stalker entering the hotel from the lobby camera. The lighting is much better on this clip, but this guy is smart. He keeps his head down, still only offering the view of his hat. I slow the clip down and zoom in. I can tell his hair is cut short on the sides, but I want to see if he has longer hair tucked into his hat.
I freeze the frame. “The top is longer,” I whisper, noting there’s a little light brown hair peeking from under the side of the hat.
I look around, making sure no one has noticed I’m talking out loud to myself. I’ve never understood why people find that odd. Talking it out often helps me make sense of things, even if I’m talking it out with myself.
I allow the clip to play again, watching as he approaches the elevator up to our floor while carrying a bouquet of dead roses. I can’t understand why this guy thinks that’s flattering. Why the hell does he bring dead roses?
Nothing is notable about this guy from what I can see in these clips. He has an average build, average height, and light brown hair. He could be anyone. He could have a banana nose for all I know. Or a huge scar across his face. He could be missing half his face. He’s done a stellar job of keeping that a complete mystery.
The only notable thing about this guy is his damn hat. He’s a plainly dressed guy otherwise. However, his hat is coal black with a wide brim. I zoom in to get a better look at the decorative band around it. It’s braided with brown and black material.
“That’s sort of an odd combination of colors on a black hat,” I mumble to myself.
“Would you like for me to join the conversation? Or do you enjoy talking to yourself?”
Nora’s whisper gains my attention, and I turn to find her smirking at me.
“You’re welcome to join me. I’m going over these surveillance videos again.” I have a privacy screen on my computer, so no one can see what I’m looking at. In this line of work, privacy is everything.
Her smirk drops as I turn the laptop to show her the image I have frozen on the screen. She squints her eyes and wrinkles her nose. Leaning in, she studies the image silently.
She cuts her eyes to mine. “Well, have you discovered anything new about this psycho?”
We keep our voices down, ensuring the other passengers don’t hear us.
“Unfortunately, no. His hat is the only unique thing we can see about him,” I say regrettably.
She blows out a breath and scrubs her hands over her face. “What am I supposed to do?”
Without thinking, I reach over and take her hand in mine. “Exactly what we are doing; you dance and allow me to protect you. We’ll catch this guy, cupcake. I promise.”
She squeezes my hand tightly in hers. “I know you will. I trust you.”
