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Her chest rose again and held. Her eyes flicked up. She made the sign of the cross, which wasn’t a motion Vicky made. I’d seen it happen three times since coming to them. She believed. She went to church, but she and Howard weren’t ones to be vocal about their beliefs. They lived their values and preferred to lead by example.
They weren’t showy or pushy.
“We’re flying there on Sunday,” I told her. “We’re all staying in a shared suite. I’ll take the farthest bedroom. Travis will be in a connecting room. I know Lo won’t let me out of her sight. She’ll even go to the bathroom with me. We’ll be lowkey, only venturing out to go to the game, and right after, I’ll be with Brett. I’m flying back with him the next day. I’ll never be alone.”
“I know, and you have your training, but we almost lost you. He almost got you. If Brett hadn’t been there…” Her breath shuddered.
“We weren’t expecting it,” I countered. “We’re on guard now. And again, it looks like they did get the guy.”
Her hand lifted to her mouth, her fingers trembling. “I still just have this fear. Both my babies are going.”
Both of her babies.
She’d said it before.
But there was a new shift inside me, and my heart started picking up speed.
Should I—but Vicky was saying, “No. You’re right. Lo and Roger will be watching you like a hawk. Travis too. And no one would mess with Brett.” She laughed at herself before fixing a piercing gaze on me. “You stay safe and come back. Do you hear me?”
I heard her.
48
BILLIE
Lo and I wore matching airport outfits. That’s what we called them. We were both in leggings, sneakers, and tank tops. I broke the mold with wearing a flannel overtop. If I got hot, I could wrap it around my waist. I also kept a ballcap on, pulled low over my forehead, and sunglasses. No one seemed to recognize me, even though I counted thirty television screens covering the Midwest Butcher and the Copier cases. My old picture flashed every now and then, the one they always used when I was twelve. There were two basic images that were used on a rotation. My school picture or the one where I was carried outside by a police officer, covered from head to toe in blood. My stomach churned every time I saw that one. I didn’t understand why they used it—wait. No. I did. Shock value. The press had no regard for sensitivity levels among other people who might get triggered by that image.
The clip when Brett and I first met also had a surge in popularity. Me tripping. Him catching me. Me looking at him all starstruck and awkward. I still grimaced every time I saw it, but I was handling it better.
Lo commented on that as we settled into our seats on the airplane.
I shrugged. “I kinda have to, you know. Considering Brett…”
Understanding dawned. She nodded before flicking her gaze to where the two guys were sitting, the row in front of us. “That’s part of the reason I was more pro-Travis.”
“Part of the reason?” I teased.
“It never mattered, which I knew. One glimpse of how he looked at you and you looked at him, and I knew nothing I said was going to make a difference. You two are supposed to be. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
I noticed Travis shifting around in his seat.
I was going to ask if he was okay, but the flight attendant came over to see if we wanted anything to drink before taking off.
Lo shot up her hand. “Don’t mind if I do! And also, thanks to the B-man for giving us first class seats. I’m not usually one where money makes a difference, but free booze? That’s a whole different level.”
The people across from us snickered, but if I’d been worried about Lo bringing attention to us, it was baseless. By the time we were in the air and landing in San Diego, Lo got the entire story from the elderly couple across from us. They were going to cheer on their two granddaughters in a gymnastics competition. Lo lit up, sharing about Charlotte and Cynthia’s gymnastics, and phone numbers were soon exchanged.
When we got off the plane, hugs were exchanged. Roger got involved, hugging them.
As soon as they separated from us, he asked, “Who were those people?”
Lo filled him in, and I pulled out my phone to text Brett.
Me: We arrived. How are you doing?
Brett: Good. You feel okay still?
Me: Yeah. No one could recognize me. I don’t think, anyway.
