“Sorry for the bumpy takeoff,” our captain says once we’ve reached cruising altitude. It’s a woman’s voice and I smile at my own surprise. “Our flight time to Los Angeles today is eleven hours and twenty-five minutes.” Blue sighs as if he can understand her words. “It should be pretty smooth from here on out. A little rough air has been reported once we get closer to LAX but I’ll keep you updated. In the meantime, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”
They dim the lights as if we will sleep. It’s the middle of the afternoon…
Blue and I walk the aisle every two hours—pregnancy and blood clots, and altitude, oh my! The blue light of the screens turns the other passengers pale and sickly. A mother stands in the rear of the plane with her baby, swaying back and forth. She wears a blank expression, all vitality drained from her features. Blue touches his nose to the baby’s socked foot and the mother rears back.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “He would never hurt a baby.”
Her expression, moments ago vacant, now verges on deadly. “He might wake him up though,” she hisses at me.
“Sorry,” I whisper back. “I’m so sorry.”
When we finally get to the pet relief area at LAX, Blue looks like he might propose marriage to the fake fire hydrant in the middle of the fake grass. Sunshine glares off the polished linoleum floors outside the low white picket fence. The windows here frame blue skies tinged yellow with pollution.
A city on the ocean, surrounded by mountains, Los Angeles cradles pollution like that exhausted mom cradled her baby. Fuck me. I rub at my eyes, gritty with exhaustion. The loudspeaker crackles to life. “If you see something, say something,” the announcer intones.
I blink my gaze back into focus, glancing around the half-deserted hall. Across the way a bookstore beckons. Blue and I spend the next hour in its paper-scented aisles.
We board the flight to Nadi and settle back into our new pod. Blue lies down at my feet and I get another seltzer. As we taxi toward the runway, Blue sits up to rest his head on my knee. I used to be afraid of flying…but then I almost crashed into the ocean in a helicopter and somehow that fixed me. Sometimes our biggest fears coming true exposes them as nothing more than phantoms.
I wake from a doze, suddenly alert, adrenaline running through my system. Was it a dream? Blue’s low growl tells me that no, something is wrong. The cabin is dark, the lighting dimmed to a dusky blue. I lean forward, glancing out into the aisle. I can’t see any of the other passengers except for their feet. The guy across the way wears one white scuffed sneaker—the other foot is encased in an orthopedic boot and a crutch leans against the divider between his pod and the next over.
“Come on, Blue, let’s stretch our legs.”
My body tingles as I stand. Something is definitely wrong. We start moving down the aisle, passing into the economy cabin. Most of the passengers wear sleep masks and headphones, their necks at uncomfortable angels.
It’s a large plane, with two aisles, rows of three on each end and a row of four in the middle. Turbulence shakes the plane, rattling the overhead compartments, and jiggling the passengers in their seats. Blue trails behind me as I make my way slowly toward the back.
A little girl—probably seven or eight—gasps when she sees him. “Mom!” she yells loudly, which earns her a harsh hush from her mother. “But Mom,” she stage-whispers. “Look at that dog!”
I smile and stop. “You want to pet him?” I offer.
Her eyes grow wide and she nods vigorously. “What’s his name?” she asks, stretching out her small hand toward Blue’s face. He sniffs her fingers and then dips his nose under her hand so that her palm rubs up his snout and over his head. The girl giggles.
“Blue,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Daisy,” she says, her attention riveted on Blue. “Did you name him that because of his eye?” she asks.
“Yes.” I smile.
“Thank you,” the mom says to me. I nod. It’s nothing. There is a tablet in a bright purple case on the tray in front of Daisy, and a coloring book with a box of markers. How hard it is to keep a kid this age entertained on a ten-hour flight!
“We had to leave our dog at home,” Daisy informs me. “How come you got to bring yours?”
“Don’t ask that,” the mom says quietly, as if I can’t hear.
“Why not?” Daisy turns to her parent, confusion written across her brow.
“It’s okay,” I assure them. “He’s an emotional support dog,” I explain.
Daisy’s head whips back around to me. “A what?”
“Honey,” her mom hisses.
“Really, it’s okay,” I say again. “I have anxiety.” Among other issues. “And he helps keep me calm.” He also helps me kick ass…
“Oh.” Daisy nods, as if she knows exactly what I mean. “My dog, Sal, keeps me calm, too.”
“I’m sure he does.”
Blue’s attention shifts down the aisle and I follow his focus. A man is standing up, stretching. He’s tall, over six feet, so the seats back here must be hard on him. The guy is wearing a green Eagles sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. His hair is brown and short—almost military but not quite. There is something about him…his gaze meets mine and he freezes. We both do. My breath stops short on an exhale.
There is a spark of recognition…not that we’ve met but that we see what the other is. He is a killer. And he knows I am too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“How much does he eat?” Daisy asks.
“Um.” I swallow, still staring at the guy. He stares back.
“Honey, stop bothering her,” the mom says.
“It’s fine,” I say again, forcing my gaze away from the stranger. “He loves steak.” I smile.
“Oh, Sal loves steak too, but I’m not supposed to give it to him. Mom says that feeding dogs from the table will make them think they are humans.”
“You should listen to your mom,” I say, my focus wandering back to the stranger again. He has moved to wait outside the bathroom. Which makes me suddenly need to pee. “Nice to meet you,” I tell Daisy. “We will come visit again in a little bit. We walk the aisles about every two hours.”
