***
Funny thing, but it took less than ten minutes to destroy Jon Hanlen’s career and ruin his life.
“Try to kill me, asshole,” I muttered as I navigated my way through Seattle International. I checked my watch again and briefly considered sprinting for the ticket counter. Two things stopped me…well, three. I was still dressed like a fugitive, the airport was crowded, and I couldn’t afford to draw any undue attention my way. Not that my overall appearance wasn’t doing a fine job of that already. I was pretty sure I still had leaves in my hair somewhere. My original plan had included a change of clothes and some lipstick, but I would just have to be crusty for a little while longer.
There really hadn’t been any other choice but to turn the box over to the Seattle police. I couldn’t take the box with me to Zaire, and there was no way I would have considered trying to take it through airport security without knowing what it contained. What if there was a gun in there? Not to mention I didn’t know how to open the thing. The last thing I needed was a cavity search.
No, I didn’t regret turning in the box. I did, however, regret not being able to find out what was inside it. Knowing John, God only knew. Knowing Mike, it was probably good. Mike had a real penchant for juicy tales. Our family always said that if he had been born a woman, he would have been a terrible gossip. As it was, the man was very creative. He was also very capable. There was no doubt that the contents of the box would indeed ruin John’s career. I was equally sure that it wouldn’t completely and permanently ruin his life.
Mike isn’t as cut throat as me, I thought smugly. Had it been me that orchestrated everything…oh hell, who was I kidding? With a toss of my head, I turned off for gate 29. Was I capable? Yes. Ruthless? Hardly.
Looking around at the assortment of people surrounding me was becoming old habit; the bright-eyed families, the business men, and the career women. I witnessed people coming and going in the usual early morning frenzy that was such a part of life in the city. It was impossible not to remember a time when I had been a part of that. It had been a part of me. Hard to believe it had only been a few days ago.
Even harder to believe: I had not really wanted it at the time. I had taken it for granted that I was a part of something. It stung more than a little to realize that most of the people directly near me were doing their best to casually look away.
I secretly wondered if they knew somehow. That was ridiculous, of course. There was no blood on my hands, no lingering scent of violence around me. I was just a very tired, very bedraggled woman in line at an airport. I mean, sure, the caked mud was probably a little off-putting, and I was most likely frowning at everyone, too. I made an effort to relax and smile. The woman across from me stared openly, wide eyed, before looking away. Across the aisle, a little girl buried her face against her mother’s skirt. The line moved forward, and steps were suddenly in front of me.
“Just get on the plane, Claire,” I sighed.
Two hours later, things were looking up. Well, maybe they weren’t exactly looking up—yet. But despite that, I was feeling better. A cool drink and a change of clothes did wonders for my nerves and my outlook right then. I still hadn’t been able to bathe. But I did a half decent scrub and repair job of my face and arms. I also took the time to change into a pair of thin shorts and a pale blue t-shirt. I decided that congratulations were in order for that one. Try changing clothes in an airplane bathroom sometime. It’s not easy.
Judging from the looks I received, it wasn’t common, either. I leaned over a little in my seat to peek out the window. It didn’t bother me that there was little more to see than the clouds below. That would always be my favorite part of flying, staring out the window at nothing in particular. I did the same thing when I took the bus, too. I used to joke that I went to college so that I could afford the window seat when I traveled. Evidently another alumni perk was getting through a metal detector with an old hunk of metal in my purse with minimal fuss. After all, I was a doctor. Huh. As I closed my eyes and drifted off, I wondered if I would ever get used to saying that.