Page 19 of A Snowed in Valentine's

There was some static, and a woman’s voice, much calmer than the first, replied, “Daystar code 7700?”

“Dual engine failure!” the pilot screeched. “Negative response from the throttle. Requesting—”

His voice was cut short by another wave of static. By the time it cleared, the pilot was screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Please! We’re all going to die! I can’t—I have a wife and kids at home. Oh, God, pl—”

There was more static, and then the recording went dead.

The interrogation room was silent for the next few seconds, but Daphne could still hear the horror in the pilot’s voice. She felt her throat tighten. That had been one man. And everyone else, all the scores of passengers and crew on Flight 18, had witnessed the same terror. Had anyone survived? That protection spell couldn’t possibly have worked. If it had, the plane wouldn’t have come apart.

“We don’t know what happened after that,” Carter said. “The pilot, the passengers, the entire plane… just gone. Vanished into thin air. We were suspecting some kind of advanced technology.”

No, not technology, Daphne thought, remembering the violent tremors that had rocked the plane.Magic. It was a portal.

She remained silent, casting a sideways glance at the two-way mirror. Her reflection stared back at her.

Who else is watching?she wondered.

The agent absently straightened the lapels on her suit. “Now, at first, we assumed it was just an accident because of the code 7700. Aircraft in emergency. We figured there must have been some kind of malfunction. But the craft disappeared. There must have been some kind of powerful force behind it…”

Daphne suddenly realized she was holding her breath.

“We’re thinking Russia or China,” Carter went on. Her brows furrowed as though she was still trying to make sense of everything. “And thenyouappeared on our radar, which suggests something else entirely.”

“Terrorism?” Daphne guessed.

“You claim you boarded the flight, Miss Emerson, but here you are. And yet, you couldn’t possibly have known about the crash or anything else about the flight unless you’d been aboard it. That tells us that you’ve got some information we could use—”

“I don’t,” Daphne said, which was only partly true.

Frustration crossed the agent’s face. “Look, these are perilous times. Everyone’s getting involved—the FBI, the CIA…everyone. The entire country is on alert. It’s like the sword of Damocles is hanging over our heads. Everyone’s been wondering if what happened was a foreign attack or a homegrown threat. And right now, you’re the only one we’ve managed to link to the missing plane.”

“Now,” said O’Hara, a sinister grin creasing his face, “how the hell does a linguistics professor get involved in a terrorist attack?”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Daphne said, feeling a flicker of annoyance.

“Oh, for goodness sake.” O’Hara rolled his eyes. “What, you’re a sleeper agent or something?”

The flicker would soon become a tidal wave, she thought, scowling back at him. He was clearly determined to make her out to be something she wasn’t.

“How did you do it, anyway?” The man’s mustache twitched. “How did you make the plane vanish? Was there anyone else involved, or was it a solo mission? Names, Emerson. We want names. Tell us who your co-conspirators are.”

“That’s enough, Mark,” said Carter.

“Oh, Suzanne, I’m just getting warmed up.” He rounded the table, coming to stand next to Daphne, and brought his face close to hers. His breath smelled like peppermint. “You know why I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Miss Terrorist? My brother was on that flight.”

Daphne’s lips parted in a silent gasp.

“Kenneth O’Hara. That’s his name.” Mark swallowed, and for the first time, she registered the pain in his voice. “Washis name. He was an attorney. A really brilliant kid. He had a bright future ahead of him and had a really beautiful girlfriend with him, too. Emily. And you know why they were on that plane yesterday?”

He didn’t wait for her to respond to continue. “Kenneth was taking her to meet our parents. They were going to get married eventually. Now they’re both gone. My brother is gone. Do you have any idea how our parents feel? How…Ifeel?”

His voice had risen considerably in the past couple of seconds. Daphne fought the urge to once again deny his claim that she’d had something to do with the missing plane. Guilt squeezed her chest like a vice. In a way, she did feel responsible for the fate of Flight 18 and its passengers.

Maybe if she hadn’t cast the spell, everyone would be safe. Maybe the passengers would be in Chicago now with their families.

“You terrorists never think about the lives you take,” he snarled. “I wonder if you have a family of your own.”

---