“That’s right,” India put in.
“If anything, a mugger will go for someone small and slender and unassuming, like India here.”
“Hey! Makes sense, though.”
“But it also charges my phone,” he whined, clutching his pocket and backing away.
“Okay, that’s definitely not true—”
“Dammit.”
“—but imagine if it could? Why hasn’t someone invented this? No. Don’t distract me. Check it in your luggage—”
Now he was backing away while looking deeply affronted, like she’d spit in his coffee. “Like a goose? Never!”
“—with your ice axe and pepper spray.”
From Becka: “Whoa.”
“Hey, I used to be a Boy Scout. Be Prepared.”
“Wow. I could actually hear the capital letters when you did that. G.B., let’s play a game where we pretend I’m your captain and just gave you an order and you have to comply: check that thing already.”
“Dammit.”
Ava looked around at the small group. “So now that we’ve gotten my eventful weekend out of the way and are happy with the uniforms and G.B. won’t accidentally electrocute one of us—”
“That was one time!”
“—let’s get to it. Where—”
“—are we flying today?” they chorused.
“You all suck. I don’t say that every time.”
But she was awfully glad to be back regardless. And she hadn’t thought about Tom Baker in the last hour.
Nope. Not once. While she slept, he’d worked through the night, made sure she was feeling well enough to fly, helped her pack, then dropped her off at the airport in time to return for check-in. It was an oddly domestic scene … she’d rarely spent the night with a man in a hotel room and not had sex, so she had no idea how to behave the morning after.
Anyway, she wasn’t thinking about him. This particular moment didn’t count.
Totally out of my mind. Tom, that is. Yep.
So.
Twenty-Eight
“Why is there a tiny hole in all the windows?”
“That’s a breather hole. See how there are actually two windows? The breather hole regulates pressure between both so the outside window takes most of the pressure in case of an accident.”
“But why are all the windows round?”
“Because corners are inherently weak, and air pressure increases that weakness. Round or oval windows spread out the stress and are fundamentally stronger if there’s a pressure drop.”
“Oh. So the likelihood of a fatal catastrophe is lessened?”
“Yes.”
There was a low cough behind him and Tom turned to see a flight attendant with a name tag that read G.B. “Love all the science, but maybe a little less fatal catastrophe chit-chat?”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to make the other passengers uneasy.”
“Yeah, I don’t care about that. You’re making me uneasy.” But he smiled, a perfectly friendly grin that Hannah cautiously returned. G.B. was such a large man—a lifter, clearly, and quite tall—Tom briefly wondered if he had to turn sideways before going through doorways. “Let me guess—the MAGE conference?”
“What gave it away?” Tom deadpanned. MAGE, the Massachusetts Association for Gifted Education, was having their annual conference in Boston tomorrow. This was Hannah’s first year. Tom had had to make sustained efforts not to boast about that at work.
G.B. bent to speak to Hannah directly. “Y’know, our captain would be glad to let you come up and see the cockpit once we’re at the appropriate altitude.”
“We don’t want to interrupt her work.” Tom said this with some reluctance, as he would have liked a peek at the cockpit of an Airbus A319. And a private chat with the crew. They were bound to have interesting stories about death in the sky. And of course, it would be wonderful to speak with Ava again, this time wearing her captain hat. Literally.
He forced his mind back on track in time to hear Hannah. “Because distractions increase the potential of a fatal catas—of a thing you don’t want us to talk about,” she added anxiously.
G.B. smiled. “It really doesn’t. And she does it all the time. Let me know if you want to take a look later.”
“Really?” Hannah looked delighted. “Thank you, Flight Attendant G.B.”
“You’re welcome, passenger 22B. Why don’t you guys have a seat and get buckled in?”
“All right.” There was a decisive “snap” as Hannah complied, then got back to business. “Uncle Tom, why do we have to board the plane on the left? I don’t think that’s very efficient. And for the jumbo planes, why not board both sides at the same time?”
Nuts. He had tried to anticipate all Hannah’s questions and researched accordingly. Alas. But G.B., who had been moving past them, replied over his shoulder, “It keeps you bums out of the way of the ground crew. They always fuel on the right.”
“I like flying,” Hannah replied, wriggling in her seat a little. “It’s so interesting. And even if something looks inefficient, it isn’t.”
“Wait until we’re actually flying,” Tom said. Meanwhile, Abe had gotten himself buckled in and had handed Hannah a tablet with which she immediately busied herself. Tom leaned back and caught his eye over her bent head. “Thank you again for coming.”
“You kiddin’? Who’d miss it? It’s my first genius conference.”
Hannah made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “well, duh,” but kept her gaze on the screen.
“And I haven’t been back to Boston for years. I’m gonna show you all my old stomping grounds when the kiddo isn’t dazzling geniuses with her supergeniusness.”
Hannah stopped midswipe to look up at him. “Grandpa, a lot of people there are going to be smarter than I am. You should be resigned.”
“I’ll decide when to be resigned,” Abe retorted. “And yeah. In theory there will be bigger geniuses there. Maybe. But I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“Not very scientific,” she observed. “Besides, Uncle Tom has an ulterior motive. That’s what you should be wondering about.”
That got Tom’s attention, because his thoughts had begun to wander back to Ava, which was bad, and worse if Hannah had somehow picked up on that.
He’d been appalled to find her so ill the previous evening, which, coupled with her drug test and doctored moisturizer, was alarming. Once he’d talked her into letting him stay close, he’d contacted his supervisor and requested the next two weeks off. Because he rarely took time off (Hannah’s bout with chicken pox fourteen months ago had been the last time), he had loads of vacation and family leave time accumulated; his employer accommodated him with nary a murmur of protest.
But none of that mattered now, because Hannah’s comment demanded his full attention. “Did you say I have an ulterior motive?”
“Yes. MAGE isn’t the only reason we’re here.”
“You are always my top priority,” he replied, because it was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. It had been that way since Hannah took her first breath.
“This is a working trip for you. Well, for me too, if my ‘job’ is to be a genius, but also for you.”
“MAGE is the priority,” he said again.
“Which doesn’t make my previous statement untrue.”
Abe had been leaning forward to catch his eye, then looked down at Hannah. “If you have a point, darlin’, make it.”
“Uncle Tom thinks Danielle Monahan’s killer might be targeting Captain Capp. He’s going to bodyguard her.”
“It is impossible—and inappropriate—for you to know that,” he said sharply.
“You probably shouldn’t have downloaded the Monahan file into your phone then.”
“Hannah—”
“Or your approved family leave request.”
“Hannah.”
She threw up her hands, flashing the Cone of Shame bandage across her palm.* Hannah’s two favorite movies we
re UP and the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi. “I can’t be blamed if you make it so easy to guess your password.”
“My password this week is follicle,” he protested.
“See? Easy. You shaved your head earlier this week, you’ve been reminding me I’m overdue for a trim, and you’ve mentioned Ava’s curly hair twice. I can only assume you wanted me to hack your phone.”
His late sister’s teasing came back to him
(“Why has God punished me by making my kiddo exactly like you, big brother? Shouldn’t he have made your kid exactly like you?”
Dead four months eight days seven hours later.)
and he only just managed to avoid smiling. Instead, he thought of dead puppies. An unbreakable cell phone contract. Ava murdering Danielle Monahan. When he was sure he had affected an appropriately stern mien, he said, “You know perfectly well I would not want you looking at files pertaining to my work.”
“Also, you seemed tense when you came home and I wanted to find out why,” she added in a small voice.
“Oh.” He sat there, at a loss, until Abe cleared his throat.
“There were other ways to get to the bottom of that, Hannah. I know your intentions were good, but that doesn’t make it okay to snoop.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Definition of ‘snoop,’ please.”
She sighed and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “It’s a verb. It means to pry or sneak.”
“I know when you get curious about something, it won’t let go of your brain ’til you’re satisfied,” Abe continued, “and I know you’ve been smarter than me for two years. But some things I know more than you, even so, and snooping on someone you love is not okay.”
Another sigh, this one sounding more than a little put-upon, and Hannah turned back to him. “I apologize for hacking your phone. I was concerned, but that’s no excuse.”
“Thank you.”
“Is it Ava? Is that why you were worried?”
“… partly.” Anyone else would have just assumed he was in a quiet mood, or tired. Leave it to Hannah to suss out the emotion behind the fatigue. “But it’s nothing either of us need concern ourselves with.”
“We’ll see,” was the mysterious reply, and not for the first time, Tom realized he was in over his head.
Before he could comment further, he heard the brief chime that preceded an announcement. And then an unmistakable voice came over the intercom: “Good morning! This is Captain Capp chiming in to welcome you to flight 420 on Northeastern Southwest—we fly everywhere! We’re departing on time, but don’t worry; we’ll do everything we can to unnecessarily delay you and then refuse to explain why.
“The weather in Boston is partly cloudy and seventy-five degrees, and also I hope you’re okay with going to Boston. If not, speak up now, since it’ll be a lot harder to deplane once the wheels are up. In a minute, the cabin crew will get into the safety speech fully three quarters of you will ignore, and to that I’d like to suggest you be very, very nice to them since they’re CPR-certified and also experts in how best to evacuate the aircraft. I’m not saying they’re vindictive, but don’t make them throw away half-full cans of soda and don’t treat them like truck-stop waitresses. And I say that as a former truck-stop waitress.
“I also want to add that in case the oxygen masks drop, put yours on first, then the kid’s. I know that seems like something out of The Hunger Games, but there’s a method to that madness. Anyway, sit back, relax, take the miracle of flight for granted, and we’ll be taking off shortly.”
His face hurt, and he realized he was grinning like a fool. Which Hannah, who was the polar opposite of a fool, picked up on.
“You liiiiiiiike her,” she sang, which got Abe chuckling. Tom knew perfectly well denial was a waste of time, so he said and did nothing … including wiping the smile off his face.
Twenty-Nine
Flight deck
27,000 miles over Lake Michigan
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Saw it with my own two eyeballs.”
“There is no way a tarantula defeated a rat in spider-to-rodent combat behind the New York Public Library.”
“I saw the whole thing!”
“Why were you even behind the library in the first place? Did they try to lock you out? Were you sneaking in? Were you ambushing people who were late returning books? Tell me if you were ambushing people who had late fees, Ava. You tell me that right now.”
“Irrelevant to the story. I pity you, India, with your closed mind and refusal to embrace the weird.”
“I embrace the weird every time I climb into the cockpit with you.”
Before she could retort (good one, though!), they heard G.B.’s distinctive “shut up, there’s a passenger in tow” knock. “To be continued,” she told her copilot, then turned to greet the newcomers.
“Captain Ava Capp, First Officer India James, this is—”
“Holy sh … out, it’s Hannah!”
“Hi, Ava!”
G.B. smothered his laugh into his fist. “Did you just say ‘holy shout,’ Captain?”
Ava smiled to see them. There was G.B., taking up half the flight deck, cute-as-a-bug Hannah wearing a MAGE T-shirt, and, hovering uncertainly in the doorway: Doc Baker. She’d known they had boarded, of course, but preflight had kept her busy.
The girl put out a hand and, bemused, Ava shook it. “Uncle Tom’s glad you’re the captain.”
“Oh?”
He was glancing around the cockpit and at India, and Ava realized that he was wondering if her copilot was the saboteur. Just as she had wondered about G.B. Tom was also looking exceptionally striking, which was irrelevant. And, it must be said, a little irritating. Why is he tan? He’s a nerd who hangs out in morgues; he should be sickly pale like a fish belly. And why is his gaze so direct and captivating? And why isn’t he wearing something wildly unflattering like almost every other person on this flight?
And why do I give a shit about any of it?
“It’s nice to see you again, Captain Capp.”
So that’s how they were doing it. Okay, then. “Thank you, Dr. Baker.” To India, who was staring at the child like she was an oracle come to life (an oracle with shaggy bangs and a missing front tooth and … was that a Cone of Shame bandage?), she added, “Hannah’s one of a kind. I know that’s technically true for everyone on the planet, but it’s really, really true for her. And there are too many people on my flight deck. G.B., please escort Dr. Baker to his seat. I’ll walk Hannah back when we’re finished here. If that’s okay with you, Tom.”
“It is, Ava, thank you.” With that, he turned and left with G.B.
“Oh-ho.” This from India, but she declined to engage.
“I’m glad you’re friends again,” Hannah said.
“Huh? We weren’t really friends before. I’ve known him less than a week. It was never going to … y’know. Go anywhere.” Why am I having this conversation with a child?
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“That’s the point. He liked you so much after less than a week. Even when he thought you might have killed someone. Or had guilty knowledge of killing someone. Or made a mess with the dead girl’s ashes.”
India’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me, what?”
“Think how Uncle Tom will feel in a month!” She turned to India. “May I ask a personal question?”
“I have no idea.”
“Were you named after India the peninsula, India the country ruled by the British until 1947, India the republic, or India ink?”
“I was named after my uncle.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Tradition. I hadn’t considered that. Which was foolish now that I think about it. I’ll need to recalculate the variables…”
“Did you have any questions about the flight deck?” Ava gestured to the dizzying array of instruments and screens, often incomprehensible to passengers. “Or flying in general? Or about becoming a pilot? Or y
our plans to eventually conquer the Northern Hemisphere?”
“Mmmmm.” Hannah was looking at the instruments with a small frown, eyes moving back and forth as she scanned the array in a way that definitely didn’t remind Ava of a terminator at all. “No, I’ve got it now, and I can research more tonight. I just came up so you and Uncle Tom could see and talk to each other.”
Ava stared. “You are terrifying.”
She grinned. “Thank you!”
Thirty
“I’ve returned her safe and sound,” she announced unnecessarily.
Abe smiled and tried to courteously rise, but had forgotten his seat belt and thumped back down. “Hello again, young lady!”
“Two lies. I’m pushing thirty, but thanks.”
“What are the odds that we’re flying on one of your planes?”
“Technically, it’s the airline’s plane.”
“Thousands to one, actually,” Tom said. “Particularly when you factor in all Northeastern Southwest flights and every city to which they fly.” He stood so Hannah could take her place in the middle and looked at Ava. “I hope you thanked the captain for letting you into the cockpit, Hannah.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ava put in hastily. “It was a pleasure to have her up there.” An intimidating, terrifying pleasure. “She probably gets this all the time, but she’s gonna—”
“Do great things,” Abe finished. “Yeah.”
“At this point, I consider it more a dare than anything else,” Hannah said. “As well as something to cross off my bucket list by the time I’m driving age.”
I don’t even want to think about what this teeny genius would do on a dare. “You’re way too young to have a bucket list.” She looked around their small family and decided the niceties had been handled. “Well, it was good seeing you, but I should probably check to make sure the autopilot hasn’t burned out…”
“I have some time after we land. Have dinner with me,” Tom blurted out of nowhere.
She hesitated. “I don’t want to get in the way of your family plans.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Abe put in. “The conference doesn’t start until tomorrow, and we were just gonna take the Blue Line to our hotel and goof off ’til supper.”
Truth, Lies, and Second Dates Page 13