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I nodded, feeling relieved he was so good at making himself useful. The last thing I needed was more blood on my hands.
“In a few minutes,” he told me with a heavy sigh, “I’ll alert the pilot that we need to make an emergency landing.”
“He’ll be dead by then.”
“Likely, yes.” There was a hint of impat
ience in his reply.
“What are we going to say?”
“The truth,” Henry replied. “That he choked.”
I told him I didn’t understand, even though I kind of did.
“In time you will.”
I felt pins and needles in my stomach. “Shouldn’t we just tell the actual truth?”
“What’s the point? He’s going to die either way.”
“But it’s my fault.”
“Hardly,” Henry scoffed. “He had a weakness. You were just doing your job.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to comprehend what he was saying and, more importantly, what he wasn’t.
“It’s just a white lie,” Henry said with a shrug. “A simple omission.”
“A simple omission,” I repeated, feeling slightly calmer.
Henry walked over to where I stood. When he spoke, he did so slowly and calmly, like he was speaking to a child. “I think this is something you could be really good at.”
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “Why didn’t you help? And why are you covering for me?”
Later Henry would explain everything. Right then, he simply sighed. “The slump of your shoulders tells me you can’t afford to lose your job.”
I straightened my back, but he wasn’t wrong. Henry leaned down and removed the man’s watch from his wrist. He didn’t smile when he held it up, but there was a gleam in his eye that was unmistakable. “It’s a Bvlgari.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte
It’s early afternoon in Fort Lauderdale, the bright winter sun high in the sky. I am seated at an outside table at Estero, a private, members-only club. Hints of wisteria fill the moist air. Even in winter, the club’s flower garden is on full display, if you’re into that sort of thing—but that’s not why I came.
It’s warm out, far warmer than Texas, and sweat beads at my temples where the auburn wig meets my skin. My hand rests lightly on the stem of my glass. I feel a pleasing exhaustion as I raise it to my lips.
The cool liquid goes down smoothly. It’s almost enough to take the edge off. My senses are heightened, as they always are when it comes to work.
Glancing at the time, I know I don’t have long to accomplish what I’ve come for. It’s a short layover, but still, I can’t rush this.
In endeavors where lives are on the line, I remind myself it’s important to wait, to be noticed when the time is right, like the flowers. Taking another slow sip of my vodka martini, I discreetly survey my surroundings. It’s crowded for midweek. Most of the other tables are occupied, but I only have eyes for one.
The conversation there has halted.
The couple seated at the adjacent table—where things seem to have stalled and where my attention is drawn—look bored. He’s in his sixties and has a moneyed, careless way about him. His companion is thirty-five. Maybe. Whatever her age, she’s exquisite, with a feline quality and jagged features to match. They aren’t married, at least not to each other. It’s possible they’re colleagues. Distant cousins, maybe. Lovers is where I’d place my money, if we were betting.
Several minutes go by, and I decide, definitely not cousins. Although I am in Florida, so you never know. Nevertheless, I have my doubts. There’s a certain tension between them, palpable chemistry that’s anything but familial.
