When the last stragglers stood at the front, scanning their tickets, I pulled my bag over my shoulder and slowly made my way to the front, telling myself I was being silly.They're not here for me.
All of my false confidence died the second they stood, following close behind me. I’d made it a few steps ahead in line before fingers reached forward, tapping me on the shoulder.
“Excuse me miss?” the officer said, pulling his hand back as I turned around. His associate stood behind him. Both wore stern expressions. "I noticed you in line for coffee, and you seemed to have dropped this."
Suddenly my chest grew tight as I glanced at the blood on my shoes and back to his unchanging face. Between his fingers, he held a length of black ribbon. I swallowed. “Oh, thank you."
"I'm Liam, Liam Phillips. Oh–" he swung back to his partner who lingered behind us, conveniently wrapped up in something on his phone. "And my partner, Smith. Officer Smith." He glanced down at the boarding pass before handing it back to me, "And you're Britta Armstrong.”
I took the boarding pass from his hand like it might burn me. “Right,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like mine—too high, toobright, like I’d borrowed it from someone. Just like my identity. “That’s me.”
My fingers fumbled to tuck the ribbon into my pocket as if I could hide the shaking in my hands.
Officer Phillips didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he was pretending not to. “You headed home or headed out?” he asked casually.
“Out,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though my guilt was beginning to unravel. “Last-minute trip,” I added, instead of…
To escape the city where I’d left a body cooling on tile. To vanish before they found me.
“Spontaneous. I like it.” He gave me a side glance, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth again. “That’s rare these days. Most people plan everything down to the minute.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d planned everything, except for the part where someone died at my hand,but I guess I planned that part too.
I forced a laugh, but it came out thin and awkward. “Yeah, well. Sometimes plans don’t work out.” I stared ahead, willing the line to move faster. To carry me away. To get meon that planebefore I could crumble.
“You okay?” he asked. “You’ve gone kind of pale.”
I laughed again, this time it came out more like a cough. “No, I’m fine. Just nerves.”
“I get it.” Officer Phillips leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if we were sharing a secret. “If it makes you feel any better, turbulence freaks me out. Feels like the universe shaking you by the shoulders, you know?”
I nodded, but all I could think was:I killed someone with these hands.
My fingers curled instinctively, like I could still feel the softness of her skin, the sickening finality of it all.
“You’ve got kind eyes,” he said suddenly. The compliment came out wrong; a thought that haphazardly fell out of his mouth.
I blinked. “Sorry?” Was this his way of flirting? Or was I really about to be arrested for having kind serial killer eyes, because it definitely felt like the latter.
“Kind eyes. Like... someone who volunteers at animal shelters and makes soup from scratch.”
I nearly choked. “Soup?”
He laughed. “Yeah. You just seem…good. That’s all.”
The guilt hit me so hard I swayed. Good. He thought I was good. I’d just—
The boarding agent waved the next group forward.
Saved by the boarding call.
“I should—” I pointed lamely toward the gate.
“Of course,” he said, stepping aside to let me pass. “Have a good flight, Elizabeth."
I froze.
Elizabeth?I turned, but he was already deep in conversation with the woman checking his boarding pass.
