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Reed looked over his shoulder, and then did a double take. When he recognized her, a huge smile lit up his greasy face. He raised a middle finger in h
er direction before turning around and running down the jetway. The woman with the orange hair shut the door after him, cutting Cassie off from her target.
“Hey, I need to get on this plane.” Cassie reached for the door handle, but the woman stood in her way. “Please, it’s important.”
“Doors are closed.”
“Please, I—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the doors are closed. There’s nothing I can do.”
“That man you just let on. Donald Reed? He shouldn’t be on that plane.”
The woman looked Cassie up and down. It hadn’t occurred to her what she must’ve looked like. Were the bruises Zbirak had given her already blossoming on her face? “He had a ticket.” She moved away from the door to close up her station. “Do you have a ticket?”
“Not for this flight, but—”
“Then you don’t belong on this flight. Have a good day.”
Cassie cursed and walked over to the window, watching as the doors closed and the plane got ready to taxi to the runway. He was so close, yet so far away. She called Harris, who picked up on the first ring.
“Any luck?” the detective asked.
“Just missed him.” Cassie looked over at the screen above the counter. “He’s headed to L.A.”
“You didn’t try to stop him?”
Cassie tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice but didn’t succeed. “I tried. They wouldn’t let me through. He was already on the plane. They closed the doors.”
Harris sighed into the phone. There was nothing they could do now, short of calling in a bomb threat. And that wouldn’t end well for either of them. “Let’s meet at our gate. Hope you brought another change of clothes.”
Cassie hung up with an exasperated sigh of her own.
Next stop: Los Angeles.
