Page 71 of The Last Flight

The two women huddled in the living room, the sound of their whispered conversation floating back to Eva in snatches. She rose from the couch and wandered into the kitchen under the pretense of looking at the pictures on the refrigerator.

“What is the matter with you?” Liz hissed.

“I’m sorry. I’m exhausted and stressed, and I’ve still got to pack for a trip to Detroit tomorrow,” Danielle said. “I wasn’t expecting a houseguest.”

“What’s happening in Detroit?”

“The foundation has an event there tomorrow. I was supposed to accompany Mrs. Cook, but I just found out Mr. Cook is sending her to Puerto Rico instead. He wants to do the Detroit trip himself.” Danielle sighed. “I’m sorry to be so snappy with you. But this last-minute itinerary change is making me edgy. Something feels off.”

“In what way?”

“Mrs. Cook has been singularly focused on this trip for months, in a way that’s unusual for her.”

“I think you’re working too hard. Worrying about things that aren’t there.” Liz’s voice sounded soothing, and Eva imagined her taking Danielle’s hand and squeezing it.

“I don’t think so, Mom. There’s been other weird stuff. Her driver told me last month she took the car—alone—to Long Island. The GPS tracked her all the way to the eastern tip. She doesn’t know anyone who lives out there. And I’ve had to cover for her a few times with financial discrepancies. Withdrawals. Receipts that don’t match.” Eva could hear the worry in Danielle’s voice, the tension of watching and waiting for something to happen. “I think she’s going to leave him.”

“Good. Finally.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think the Puerto Rico trip is a part of that. And I’m worried the Detroit trip was.”

“Do you think Mr. Cook knows?”

“No, but if this messes her up somehow…” She trailed off. “I don’t like the idea of her traveling alone, or with people only loyal tothe incredible Rory Cook. And now I’ve got to go to Detroit and act as if I’m one of them when I can barely stand to look at the man, knowing how he terrorizes her.”

“If she’s smart, she’ll go to Puerto Rico and never come back.”

Eva had stopped pretending to look at the pictures and was now entirely focused on listening to this story unfold, piecing together the bare bones of an idea.

In two steps, she was across the kitchen and over to the couch, grabbing her laptop and setting it up on the counter so she could still listen in. As the two women continued to talk, Eva GoogledRory Cook, wife, and studied the image that appeared. A beautiful woman, her dark hair framing her face, wearing high-end, trendy clothes, walking down a New York sidewalk. The caption readRory Cook’s wife, Claire, visits the new restaurant, Entourage, located on the Upper West Side.

In the next room, Danielle said, “Somehow I don’t think staying in Puerto Rico is an option for her. I feel terrible that she has to go, that she’s going to wake up and Bruce is going to be the one to tell her of the change, that he’ll be the one to take her to JFK.” With an impatient sigh, she continued. “Anyways, I’m sorry I was rude to Eva. I’m sure she’s lovely. What’s the real story? Why is she really in town?”

Eva held her breath, staring at the details of Claire Cook’s face, but not seeing them anymore. Instead, she waited to hear whether Liz would keep her secrets or reveal them all, dishing them up to her daughter like a late-night snack.

“Eva’s hit a rough patch,” Liz said. “But she’s going to be fine. She’s a survivor.”

Eva let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Look,” Danielle was saying. “I need to pack since we’re leaving at the crack of dawn. Do you know where my black wool coat is?”

“Upstairs in the spare bedroom closet, I think. Let me see if I can find it.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Such a simple sentence, probably uttered hundreds of thousands of times. And yet, the power of it nearly brought Eva to tears. What it must be like to have someone always in your corner. She thought she’d had that with Liz, but seeing her together with her daughter, the way they trusted and confided in each other, Eva knew what she and Liz shared was nothing more than a close friendship. And she felt stupid for ever thinking it was more. What would Liz advise her daughter to do if she found herself in Eva’s position? Would she also encourage Danielle to turn herself in to the authorities? Or would she help her daughter escape?

On the screen in front of her, she imagined what Claire Cook would think tomorrow when she woke to discover her husband had changed her itinerary. That she’d be flying out of JFK to a tropical paradise instead of into the freezing Detroit temperatures. Perhaps she wouldn’t care. Perhaps Danielle’s instincts about the importance of this trip were wrong. But if they were right, if Claire was planning to run, she’d find herself desperate for a solution. Another way out.

And Eva might have just the solution in mind.

“What are you doing?”

Eva whipped around to find Danielle in the doorway, holding the bag she’d dropped there earlier. Eva closed the lid of the computer, hoping Danielle hadn’t seen too much, and gave her a blank smile. “Nothing.”

She held Danielle’s gaze until Danielle finally turned away, up the stairs to pack for her trip.

Eva opened the laptop again and toggled away from the photograph of Claire Cook, and over to the airline website. She clicked onChange my reservation, and in the drop-down menu, she switched outNewarkforJFK, Liz’s words echoing in her mind.She’s a survivor.

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