Shada immediately rose from her seat. “Maysoon” had been her name for more than two years now, and it had become as familiar to her as Shada. No longer was there even the slightest hesitation in her response to her assumed name.
There was a short line ahead of her at check-in, and she had to wait as the two brothers ahead of her insisted that they not sit together. It was starting to fray her nerves, all these little delays and bumps in the road. She needed to be on a plane and flying out of this city now, away from the most terrible of memories, beyond the reach of her old fears. Fears that kept her up at night. Fears that she had struggled to conquer since that text- message exchange on the day before she had driven her car to Everglades, staged her own suicide, and disappeared.
Are you afraid?
Not at all.
Maybe you should be.
No way. Never. I will see you tomorrow.
Beneath the veil, Shada bit her lip, trying to stop it from quivering. This time, she hadn’t returned to Miami simply to visit McKenna’s grave and mark another birthday never reached. For nearly three years, Shada had believed that Jamal was McKenna’s killer. For nearly as long, she had lived in fear that he would find and kill her, too. She’d come to Miami to see him brought to justice. Now Jamal was dead, leaving questions unanswered as to his whereabouts not only at the time of McKenna’s death, but also at the time of Shada’s disappearance. It was the latter that had prompted Shada to leave the message for Chuck at their daughter’s grave.
Dear Chuck,
I can never come back, not even if you wanted me to. It won’t erase the past, but I promise I won’t let anyone blame you for what happened to me. Or for what I made them believe happened. I’m sorry it had to be this way.
“Can I help you?” asked the attendant.
The line in front of her had disappeared, and it was Shada’s turn to upgrade from coach. She placed her documents on the counter. “I’m Maysoon Khan,” she said.
“Lucky you. I have one seat left in business class.”
Shada watched in silence as the attendant checked her passport. With the push of a button, he reprinted her boarding pass to London/Heathrow.
“Have a nice trip home,” the man said.
Home, thought Shada. It didn’t feel anything like home.
“Thank you,” she said as she retrieved her documents. “I will.”
Chapter Forty-four
There was only one woman Jack wanted to see when he reached the airport. He found her at baggage claim.
“I missed you,” said Andie as they locked in a tight embrace.
Sunday evening at MIA at the height of tourist season was like the running of the bulls in Pamplona, complete with the trampling of stragglers and the goring of innocent bystanders. Parking was out of the question, so Jack met up with Andie on the lower level as Theo burned through a half tank of gas circling the terminal. Andie was carrying a heavy winter coat and wearing a black sweater, which was way too warm for a balmy night in Florida. Jack liked her in cashmere, however, and he was feeling her warmth and breathing in the familiar smell of her hair when he realized that she was no longer a phony blond.
“Your hair-it’s like it used to be,” he said, smiling.
“I like things the way they used to be.”
“Me, too,” said Jack, his smile turning a little sad.
Two days had passed since Neil’s burial, since Andie had promised to get out from undercover and return to Jack and Miami as quickly as possible. She already had her bag, but out of curiosity Jack checked the flight information on the nearest luggage carousel. She’d flown in from JFK, but Andie was on to his detective work, and she shot down immediately any notion that he had uncovered the location of an FBI operation.
“You don’t really think I fly home direct from an assignment, do you?”
He supposed not. “Speaking of,” said Jack, touching her newly restored hair. “I hope this doesn’t mean you did something drastic
… like quitting?”
She shook her head. “I got a week. I just thought you might like to spend it with the real me.”
“You’re the best.”
Jack took her bag. They exited through the pneumatic doors, continued on the sidewalk past the long line at the taxi stand, and stopped at the curb. A cabdriver laid on his horn, which set off the audio version of the domino effect. Traffic was endless, eight lanes of cars and shuttle buses streaming by at something less than cruising speed at Grandpa Swyteck’s nursing home. Somewhere in that mess was Theo, unless he’d gotten fed up and ditched them.
The horn blasting subsided, and Andie took his hand. “Have you thought about what I asked on Friday?”
“About what?”
“Buying us a snowblower,” she said, shooting him a look. “About letting law enforcement do its job.”
“Yes. I’ve thought about it.”
Jack wanted to drop it, but Andie seemed determined to secure his agreement that trying to find out what had happened to Neil could be hazardous to his health.
“Have you been talking to Vince Paulo and Chuck Mays?” Andie asked.
Theo pulled up to the curb and popped the trunk-Perfect timing. Jack wedged the bag between the golf clubs and spare tire, then climbed into the rear seat with Andie. Theo steered back into the incredibly slow flow of traffic. They might as well have been moving backward.
“Welcome to the Bob Marley Taxi Company, mon,” said Theo, putting on a Jamaican accent, “where da whole world move like a stroll on the beach.”
Andie rolled her eyes. “Hello, Theo.”
“I like the new hair,” he said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Old hair.”
“Thanks. Jack was just telling me about his talks with Chuck Mays.”
“You already told her about-”
Jack groaned, and Theo caught himself, but it was too late.
Andie’s expression demanded an explanation.
“Come on, Andie,” said Jack. “Mays has resources that even the cops don’t have. You know as well as I do that even the FBI turns to guys like him when they really need to find someone.”
“Then let the FBI turn to him. You don’t need to get involved.”
“With all due respect to your fidelity, bravery, and integrity,” he said, invoking the slogan on the FBI shield, “I’m not convinced that the FBI is entirely committed to solving this crime.”
“We think it’s a cover-up,” said Theo.
“Thank you for translating,” said Andie.
“So does Chuck Mays,” said Theo.
“I’m not surprised,” said Andie.
“So does Shada Mays,” said Theo.
“Shada?” she said, looking at Jack.
“She’s alive,” said Jack.
Andie massaged between her eyes, as if staving off a migraine. “Did Chuck tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?”
“I think so.”
“She just vanished, is that it?” said Andie. “No reason.”
