Eleven

A nna's heart thudded as a curious crowd formed. Three men in gray security uniforms pushed through. She started toward the commotion, then paused, and made her way back along the Jetway. She gave a final glance over her shoulder. Her hands trembled in their clutch on her carry-on, and she fought the urge to swallow.

Surely, her suspicions were unfounded, paranoid even. Besides, no way could someone have shot that guy. How could they have gotten a weapon past security?

The stench of oil, gas, and hot asphalt sneaked through the open panel along the jet bridge, grounding her. Deep breaths further anchored her in reality.

She found her seat, 22B. She glanced at the window-seat occupant, scooted to the middle seat, lifting the armrest in haste, and ogled the unoccupied aisle seat as the final passengers boarded. She dug out a piece of gum and chewed it long enough to relieve the fume taste in her mouth.

Inching her seat back, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Her mind wandered back to a time and place long forgotten. She was a child, lying on the green grass with colorful flowers in her hand, staring at the big sky as billowy clouds floated. She imagined the sweet scent of the flowers and the crisp clean mountain air. She was happy.

Once the plane landed, the lucky man by the window was allowed to move forward for a connecting flight. The man on the aisle stood and yanked his luggage wedged inside the overhead bin. The bag barely missed her head during its descent, then scattered its contents. When she picked up a pair of binoculars, a camera, a binder, and a key chain, he jerked the key chain out of her hand before stomping off. A woman's eyes fixated on the floor in front of Anna's seat. She followed the woman's gaze. A small bag had also fallen out of the man's damaged bag and rolled deep under the seat.

After the nosy blonde passed, Anna pulled out the man's small bag, then made her way through the jet bridge. Her head lowered toward her shoulder with a sense someone was watching.

A woman was staring. The nosy one from the plane.

Uneasy, Anna moved to the walkway's other side and picked up her pace. With passengers crowding the luggage carousel, she approached the car rental counter and timed it perfectly. In under ten minutes, she'd claimed the fob and, luggage in tow, crossed the road to the car rental parking lot.

As she drove, a sign guided her toward the hotel entrance, and she soon entered a lobby replete with dark wood, wrought-iron decor, a stone fireplace, and marble floors. After completing the seamless check-in process, she returned to the car for her heavy luggage. The sun was disappearing behind the mountains, cooling the air.

A green sedan with tinted windows idled a few yards away. The lights were off, but someone was inside.

She glanced back at the empty lobby. Get a grip, girl.

Since when was she jittery? Hands shaking, she pushed the remote and entered her rental. The rearview mirror reflected movement in the mystery car. More alarmed, she adjusted the mirror in time to see a young woman wearing the hotel uniform slide into its passenger seat.

Anna's shoulders sloped, and she rolled her neck side to side. "That's it. No more overreacting."

She grabbed her purse, popped the trunk open, and hauled her bag out.

Inside, gold signs directed her toward the elevator. The doors swished closed, and the elevator lifted her to the fourth floor.

The hotel bed bounced as she plunked her luggage down in a typical hotel room. Nothing fancy. Just bed, desk, and chair. One painting of a white flower. Opening the sliding door, she sneezed. The hall led to a closet, in-room safe, and bathroom.

She ran a hand down her clothes, and a shiver went through her. That man with the once-tan shirt had nothing to do with her, right? She slipped on a fresh pink shirt and jeans, then headed back downstairs.

Another gold sign directed hungry travelers toward The Grill where an enthusiastic hostess bounced ahead of Anna toward a fashionable red-upholstered corner booth, then disappeared. Anna scooted to the middle of the seat for a better view and gave the waiter her order.

One woman in a black dress and heels relaxed by herself with a glass of white wine. A couple in another corner wore matching shirts. The red words the mountains are calling; I must go arched over a mountain backdrop on their shirts. The guy stood and urged his companion to follow as he laid down a tip.

Good. Most of the tables were empty.

The waiter returned with Anna's coffee.

As she took a sip and twisted her lips at the bitter, burnt taste, the nosy blonde from the plane sauntered toward Anna's table. Unnerved, Anna shifted.

"May I sit with you?" The woman slid down on the booth's other side.

"I'm sorry, but I'm tired. I'd prefer to eat alone." Anna scooted to the edge of the seat.

The enthusiastic hostess trailed the woman to make sure everything was okay. "Ma'am? I have a table over there for you." The hostess nodded across the room. "We try to split tables when it's late, allowing all the servers to have a table."

"I prefer to sit here."

With her food order coming, Anna grabbed her purse. "I'll take my order with me to my room if that is okay."

The woman's face flushed. She glared at the hostess as if Anna were leaving her with the tab.

"Yes, of course," the hostess replied and waved for the waiter to stop.

Anna slid out of her seat and moved toward the exit, the waiter following her step-by-step.

"Ms. Stanten!" the relentless woman called out.

Anna's head jerked toward the woman, confusing the waiter, who didn't know whether to go to the room or to follow Anna. "How do you know my name?"

"Ms. Stanten, I have many things to discuss with you. I couldn't discuss them over the telephone and have been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

"I don't understand. You were on the plane with me from Houston." Anna closed one eye as she rubbed her temple.

"I called you from Houston after I found you, but I wanted to wait until you arrived in Boise before I revealed the entire story."

"Story, what story?" How awkward discussing this in the middle of the restaurant.

The waiter was fidgeting, unsure what to do.

Then the woman paled, focusing on an older, short man entering the restaurant. "I must go now. I'll be in touch soon."

The man spoke with the hostess.

Since the waiter partially blocked Anna's view, she returned her focus to the woman. The seat was now vacant. Anna frowned and shrugged.

The waiter was moving back toward her again. "Would you like me to take this to your room?"

"Definitely." Anna headed toward the door, casually eyeing the older man as she passed. His head down, he read the menu. She couldn't make out his features in the shadows.

Once off the elevator, she stopped the waiter. "I can take the tray the rest of the way." She signed the bill, tipped him, and headed down the hallway.

Inside her room, she double-locked her door and placed the duplicate copies from the bank in the safe, her appetite gone. She nibbled at her sandwich and fruit while she used her laptop to search for news sources about the Houston airport. She was scrolling through articles when footsteps scuffled in the outer hallway. Then something rustled, and a folded piece of paper slipped under the door. When no further sound came, she tiptoed over and picked up the handwritten note— The Grill. Tomorrow 8 a.m. See you there.

Did the woman follow Anna to the restaurant?

She crumpled the note in her fist. "See you there?"

Maybe. But the woman better come with answers.

She glanced back at the laptop screen, the words airport incident still in the search line.

Just what were those answers going to cost? Was she ready for them?