The Last Flight by Julie Clark Read Free Book Online

there?”
    Petra blows out hard, thinking. “I think so,” she finally says. “I don’t know much. Nico keeps me pretty far removed from the guys he does business with. But they’re not nice people, Claire. And once they have you, Nico might not be able to get you out right away. Are you sure you want to do that?”
    A cold sliver of dread inserts itself beneath my ribs as I imagine a dark car. A nameless face. Perhaps a cold room full of women, bound and chained. Scattered mattresses, stained and lumpy, across a concrete floor. Then I think about what rage looks like when it slips across Rory’s face, of what he will do to me once he gets me alone again. The level of humiliation and outrage he will feel about what almost happened. “Call him,” I say.
    â€œWhere are you staying?”
    I give her the details, and I can hear her digging around in a drawer for a pen.
    â€œOkay. Someone will contact you there. Be ready to go as soon as you hear from us.”
    A tremor of fear passes through me as I wonder if Nico will be able to help me. And whether I want him to.
    But Petra’s still giving directions. “Find an ATM and take out as much cash as possible…just in case.”
    I’ve reached the front of the line, and people are waiting for me to end my call and put everything onto the conveyor belt. “I have to go,” I tell her.
    â€œTry to stay calm,” she says. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
    And then I end the call, doubt tumbling around inside of me, feeling as if I have just slipped into a nightmare—spinning, turning, three hundred sixty degrees of danger.

Eva
    John F. Kennedy Airport, New York
    Tuesday, February 22
    The Day of the Crash
    The desperation in the woman’s voice was unmistakable. It’s me. Claire . The way the words cracked when she said them, as if she were fighting back tears. Eva stood, riveted, as she listened to the hysterical unraveling of a woman in danger. A woman on the run. A woman like herself.
    Eva glanced around at the travelers that surrounded them, pressing in on all sides as they wound their way through security. The family with several large suitcases that surely would have to be gate-checked. The couple behind her, whisper-arguing about not leaving for the airport on time. Eva looked to see if anyone else was paying attention. If anyone might remember the distressed woman on the phone and the quiet stranger in front of her, listening.
    Claire. Her name, a single syllable, seemed to echo in Eva’s mind. Eva shuffled closer, pretending to be absorbed in her phone, the prepaid one she’d bought less than twenty-four hours earlier in a different airport, and took in the details of the woman. The expensive Birkin bag. Trendy sneakers paired with tailored slacks and a bright pink cashmere sweater draped elegantly over her narrow frame. Dark hair neatly brushing her shoulders.
    â€œI think my chances of disappearing are better in Puerto Rico,” Claire said. Eva leaned closer, so as not to miss anything. “So much is still off the grid. People will be more receptive to cash and won’t ask a lot of questions.”
    Eva felt her pulse quicken at the phrase off the grid , because that’s exactly what Eva needed. Puerto Rico was the answer, and Claire would be how she got there.
    When they reached the front of the line, a TSA agent directed Eva to an X-ray machine on the left, while pointing Claire several rows over to the right. Eva tried to follow, but the TSA agent blocked her from hopping lines. She kept her eye on Claire, tracking the bright pink sweater as she passed through the X-ray machine, gathered her things on the other side, and disappeared into the crowd.
    Eva fought the urge to push her way through. She hadn’t waited all morning just to lose Claire now. But she was stuck behind an old man who needed several passes through the scanner. Each time the red