Page 18 of Out of Sight

Will

We arrived at the airport in one piece.

Jim abandoned his car in long term parking and we checked in for our flight. We managed to fly through security, but our gate was still a short trek ahead with only a few minutes to spare before the flight was closed to boarding. I thought we were cutting it too close, but Jim seemed really proud of the fact we wouldn’t have to wait long.

I watched Claire as she hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulder while we hurried through the crowds. “Can I carry that for you?”

“It’s not heavy,” she said, cheeks turning a light pink as she avoided meeting my eyes.

“That’s not what I asked,” I said, giving her an encouraging smile. “You look exhausted. Let me help you, Claire.”

“Eliza,” Blake and Jim corrected at the same time.Right, our fake identities.

“Sorry. Eliza. You just don’t look like an Eliza,” I continued in an undertone, reaching a hand out to take the pack she slid down her arms.

“Well, you don’t look like a Frederick either,” she retorted, dropping the strap in my offered hand with more force than necessary. “That’s a given, isn’t it? Most people don’t look like whatever fake name they’ve been randomly handed.”

I wasn’t surprised that Claire was mad at me; I was the reason we were in this mess to begin with. I was a shit person, so it was a given, but I was trying to be better.

I needed a distraction, both from the intrusive thoughts and to focus on the task at hand: getting out alive.

“Is it?” I asked Jim. “Random, I mean. Or do you get to choose the names that we get specifically for us?”

Asking questions was always my coping mechanism. I needed to know everything that was going on around me so I could figure out how to get through it. Thankfully, Jim didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s a little of both. We input your gender, nationality, and ethnicity. The computer already has some identities at the ready to use. It compiles the data we give it to find one that makes sense so we don’t cause any suspicion to have a beefy Italian guy like you walking around using the name Kwan Kim or Juanita Rodriguez.”

“Makes sense. The computer is really smart. It’s amazing it got my features right on the ID. Black hair, Blue eyes, 6'7". Organ donor, because I care about saving lives,” I added with a wink to Claire. Unsurprisingly, she hit me again.Ow.She wasreally strong for someone her size. I imagined how much more she could fit in her punch after hitting the gym and shuddered.

“Try to avoid the violence for now,” Jim said. “We don’t want to cause a scene here.”

I should’ve taken the hint and stopped flirting with her, but I didn’t know if I wanted to. Her annoyed face was just as adorable as her look of pure fury, and the satisfied expression after every smack was even better. It was worth all the bruises, really.

“They gave that information to the computer when they submitted our pictures for the IDs, dummy.”

So much for us becoming friends.She must have seen my face fall because she backtracked. “I just mean it’s not that big of a coincidence, that’s all.”

Thankfully Blake changed the subject.

“Once we land in Omaha we’ll get checked into a hotel, stay for an hour or so to get your new IDs sorted out, and then head to our next destination.”

“Why are we checking into a hotel if we’re just going to leave right away? Isn’t that a waste of money?”

“We’re setting up a dummy trail so we can figure out if they caught our trail so far.” I could see the strain on Claire’s face as she tried to be civil. I did my best not to show how adorable I found it.

“Exactly,” Jim confirmed. “Your dad taught you well.”

Her dad? What did he have to do with anything? Claire stiffened, clearly not comfortable with that topic of conversation. I fiddled with the straps of the backpacks slung over my shoulder, pretending not to notice. Her business washer business since it didn’t seem to have anything to do with our current issue: getting away safely.

For his part, Jim continued as if nothing was wrong. “We plan for the worst so it never happens. We’ll check into the room and be long gone on our next flight before check out time in the morning.”

Claire still looked stressed out, avoiding eye contact with all three of us. She needed something to take her mind off of whatever it was that bothered her about her dad.

“Hey, Claire.” She looked up at me. “What does my file say about me?”

“Your what?” She looked confused, but that awful vulnerable sadness was fading. Mission accomplished.

“My file. You said you got into all of the Morelli files, including mine. What did it say about me?”

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