Page 56 of The Last Flight

Information is power.

Eva could walk away with no regrets, knowing for certain the past held nothing of value for her. That sometimes, the death of a dream can finally set you free.

* * *

When she arrived home, the moving truck was gone, Liz’s apartment empty. The windows were uncovered, revealing bare rooms, the red accent wall almost glowing, and a cold and heavy sadness settled over her.

She stepped onto the porch and unlocked her door, keeping her eyes trained forward, trying not to notice that Liz had left the flowerpots she’d tended so carefully. She glanced to her right, to the tree they’d planted together, the only thing left of their friendship, where it would continue to stand, a quiet sentinel, keeping her secrets.

Eva

Berkeley, California

February

One Week before the Crash

Jeremy’s text came fifteen minutes before Eva was to leave to meet Dex at a basketball game.

I’m failing my classes. I have a paper due on Tuesday and I need something to help me get an A on it. Please.

Of all her clients, Jeremy had been the most persistent, badgering her for weeks to sell him something. She’d managed to put him off, offered to connect him with someone else, but he’d refused. He wanted her. He trusted her. In the past, she would have rolled her eyes at his loyalty, but now she knew he was smart to be cautious.

She texted back.

Going to men’s basketball game at Haas. Meet me at entrance to section ten at halftime.

She would hand off with Dex in the club room and then find Jeremy. She pulled four from her discards—pills that had an odd shape or were broken—and slid them into a plain white envelope. They weren’t pretty, but they’d get the job done.

Two days earlier, Castro had slid up next to her in the frozen-food aisle at the supermarket. He’d only been there for a second, just long enough to give a location and a time, and say that she’d soon have her answer. Eva felt the hours, the minutes, slipping away, carrying her forward to an unknown outcome. She looked around her house and wondered if she’d miss it. Her gaze trailed across the familiar walls of the living room—her favorite chair she’d sat in millions of times, to watch TV or read. The prints on the wall, chosen because she wanted to infuse her dark and lonely life with splashes of color. Her old textbooks, the only reminder of who she’d hoped to become. And yet, the pieces didn’t add up to a life. Eva felt a clarity as she stood there, as if she’d already left, and realized none of it mattered. Nothing would be missed. The only person she’d ever cared about was already gone.

She grabbed her coat, tucking the package of pills in an inner pocket—the envelope for Jeremy in another one—and her voice recorder into her purse for another night of what would probably be useless chitchat, and slipped out the door, trying to ignore Liz’s empty windows, the sound of her footsteps on the porch louder, echoing that emptiness back to her.

She walked the few short blocks to campus, cutting across the wide lawn that led down toward the library, and followed a dark and winding path that let out by Sather Gate. A stream of students and fans headed toward Haas Pavilion, and she pushed through the crowd, entering the arena and going straight to her seat.

She gave a tight smile to the people who sat around her, familiar faces now that she was attending all the home games. But she didn’t talk to anyone. Instead she stared down at the court where the team was warming up and let the sounds of the arena fold over her as she realized how far off course she’d drifted, like a boat pulled by the tide. She was a world away from where she started. Lost at sea, with no hope of navigating back to familiar land.

* * *

Dex didn’t show up until the middle of the first half. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he slid into his seat. “Did I miss anything good?”

Eva ignored his joke and looked down toward the student section, standing room only, where they moved and jumped as one, jeering the opposing team. “I never went to a single basketball game as an undergrad,” she said. “All I did was study and go to class. Except for at the end. With Wade.”

Dex nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I always thought I’d stay in Berkeley. Maybe to teach, or to work in one of the labs. This was the only place that felt like home to me.” Below them, a player had grabbed a rebound and executed a fast break toward the basket at the other end, and the crowd around them went wild. But Eva continued. “I’m living an upside down and backward version of the life I wanted. I’m here in Berkeley. I have money and a home. I have everything I thought I wanted, and yet it’s all wrong.”

Dex shifted in his seat so that he could look at her. “You think anyone else has it any better?” Dex gestured toward an older man at the end of their row, whose sweatshirt looked frayed at the cuffs, whose eyes had bags under them. “Look at that guy. I’ll bet he’s some kind of an accountant in the city. Taking the BART at the crack of dawn, shoving himself into the smallest space on the train. Eating his breakfast at his desk. Kissing his boss’s ass and taking his two weeks in the summer, barely making enough to pay for his basketball season tickets. You want that life instead? What we have is better.”

She wanted to throttle him.Better?Hiding and scheming and constantly watching her back? How many people in the seats around them had the constant fear of either being arrested or being killed for their mistakes?

She was edgy, rattling around in a life that was slowly emptying. But the longer this took, the less certain she was Castro would be able to get her out. She wanted to have a backup plan, a way to disappear on her own if she had to.

As the noise level in the arena rose, Eva leaned closer to Dex and lowered her voice so her recorder wouldn’t pick it up. “I’ve got an undergrad client who wants to buy a fake ID,” she said, hoping Dex wouldn’t hear the waver in her voice. “She’s nineteen. Wants to get into San Francisco clubs. Do you know anyone who can make her one?”

If Dex thought she was lying, he showed no sign of it. He leaned his elbows on his knees and angled his face so he was looking at her. “I used to know someone in Oakland who did that. But it was years ago, back when you could slide one photo out and another one in.” He shook his head. “Now? Her best bet would be to find someone who looks like her willing to give her theirs. Pay them for their real driver’s license and let them report it stolen. It happens all the time.”

She looked toward the court, pretending to be interested in the game so that he couldn’t see the defeat in her eyes. “That’s what I told her,” she said. “But you know what college kids are like. Two years seems like an eternity at nineteen.”

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