Chapter 21: Gate Twelve

Gate twelve was at the far end of the international concourse, and the Lisbon flight was already boarding.

Whitney sat alone in a plastic chair by the window with a carry-on at her feet.

She wore a hat pulled low and big sunglasses at ten at night.

A thick envelope stuck out of her handbag, too fat for the clasp to close.

I didn't need to count what was inside it.

Bea had called ahead, and two airport police officers stood at the next gate pretending to read their phones.

Elias had driven us, and he hung back behind me.

"Whitney," I said.

She looked up and went rigid.

"Joanna. What are you doing here?"

"I came to say goodbye."

She tried a laugh.

"I'm visiting a friend. I've been under so much strain."

"You stood up in front of two hundred people and said you were ashamed," I said.

"I meant it."

"Then why is Desmond's lawyer's cash in your purse?"

Her hand shot to the envelope.

"It's a loan."

"For a one-way ticket, on the night the police reopened your brother's death."

"Whitney, you swore on a page that you'd never been in my home."

"Bea filed the complaint last week, and the police have a warrant with your name on it."

"You let me stand up there and tell everyone the truth," Whitney said, her voice rising. "You made me say it."

"I never made you do anything."

"You wanted a villain. I'm the only one left to hit."

Passengers in the boarding line had begun to turn.

A man near us lifted his phone.

"You used Danny," I said. "For three years. And the day it cost you, you took money to run."

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