Page 72 of Final Approach
Andrew took the file. “Well, his name was Devon Bell. He was married to Allison Bell and they have four children.”
“But what else?” she asked.
“He died in the crash, so they couldn’t question him, obviously, but the report says it was the cell phone video footage that clued them in to the fact that he wasn’t working alone. Back then, there wasn’t a lot of video, but there wassome. And some phones were recovered and the information retrieved.” He continued to read, summarizing. “Before the plane went down, passengers were calling their families and sending goodbye videos. And other videos with instructions to deliver the footage to the police. We haven’t had a chance to watch what little there was, but it might help figure out the connection.” He paused. “I just don’t know if you should watch it.”
“I don’t know if I should either, to be honest.” She lowered her gaze to the report once more. “It’s ... I just ... I don’t know what to think. My brain is spinning, but I’m going to try and make sense when I voice this because it almost seems too absurd to even say out loud, but if it’s the same person responsible for both hijackings, then the other glaring connection is me and my mother. Does that mean my mother was the target all along sixteen years ago?”
Andrew rubbed his lips while another thought popped into his head. “And does it mean you were the target this time?”
“But ... why?”
“Who knew you were going to be on that flight?” Andrew asked.
She scoffed. “Everyone.”
SIXTEEN
It was two in the morning now and they were all drooping. Kristine hadn’t wanted to give up trying to find more links between the two incidents. They’d printed both manifests and had analysts working on finding any connection between everyone on the two planes.
“This is going to take forever,” Kristine said.
“Yeah,” Andrew said. “Why don’t I follow you home so you can get some rest.”
“That’s really sweet, but no need for you to go out. My home is five minutes away.”
He smiled. “Exactly. I don’t mind making sure you get there safe.” The smile faded. “Because if someone tried to crash your plane, then who knows what else is going on? I’d feel better if you’d let me do this.”
“It was your plane too.” He pursed his lips and eyed her silently. She sighed. “But it wasn’t your mother. True.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Had he known where she lived and taken this hotel because of it? Or was she giving herself too much credit and reading into his expression things that weren’t there?
Probably the latter. She nodded goodbye to Nathan and they all climbed into their respective vehicles.
She was home within five minutes, but she had to admit she watched her mirrors the whole way. Andrew stayed with her, which kind of pleased her and annoyed her at the same time. Pleased in that he cared enough to do so and annoyed that he felt he needed to. But someone had tried to crash a plane.Herplane. And whoever that was, he—or she—wouldn’t let a little thing like an FBI agent derail him.
But why go to all that trouble? Why not just hire a sniper to take her out? Morbid, yes, but so much easier.
It didn’t make sense. Could it be someone she’d thrown off a flight wanting to get even? A relative of someone, indignant and angry on behalf of their family member? But if it was connected to her mother, then the connection was way deeper and didn’t have anything to do with a passenger.
She just didn’t see how it could be a huge coincidence that her mother’s plane had been hijacked and now hers.
No way.
But who? And why?
The questions continued to swirl, but she was out of time to think about them at the moment. She pulled into her parking spot and climbed out, wondering if he was out there in the dark, watching. Okay, she was glad Andrew was there.
A shiver slithered up her spine and she walked over to him. “Tomorrow morning?” She paused and looked at her phone. “I mean in four hours? Meet you at Mike’s?”
“Want me to swing by and pick you up?”
Kristine hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. See you in a few.”
He started to get out of his car, but she spun and hurried to her townhome. A glance over her shoulder just gave her a view of the dark night, parking lot lights, and unidentifiable shadows. Andrew was there, though, still watching, standing next to the driver’s side, arm on top of the window, face set in a frown. What was that all about?
She almost asked him, but they were both exhausted and neededwhat little sleep they could get. A conversation could wait. She waved and unlocked her door, stepped inside, and twisted the lock behind her.
