“Let’s go through this one more time,” Agent Jordan Wilkes insisted, waving his hand at her as he slowly paced the area in front of her chair.
“But I’ve already told you everything I know,” Stephanie protested. Wilkes had been interviewing her for the last sixty minutes and there wasn’t anything she hadn’t told him a dozen times or more. Apparently, she’d failed to follow proper protocol and didn’t contact the authorities soon enough when she’d found Ashley Davison’s name on the no-fly list. This interrogation appeared to be the price she had to pay.
Agent Wilkes chose to ignore her plea. “Humor me. Let’s start at the beginning one more time.”
“Okay,” Stephanie said, drawing in a deep breath and doing her best to remain calm and outwardly patient. “A young woman in her midtwenties approached the counter and asked to purchase a ticket to Seattle.”
“Did she state a particular flight or time?” he asked—actually, it was more of a demand than a question.
Stephanie had already answered this same question repeatedly. “No, the woman said she was willing to take any seat day or night, it didn’t matter.”
He nodded, as if Stephanie should continue.
“When I entered her name, Ashley Davison, into the computer it immediately came up on the no-fly list and as an FBI person of interest, suspected of terrorist activity. I was instructed to immediately notify the FBI and airport security.”
“Which you delayed doing, right?” The question was followed by an intense glare.
“I tried,” Stephanie insisted, “but Ms. Davison kept arguing with me. I repeatedly asked her to step aside and wait. I hoped to get in touch with security, but she continued talking and insisting that I get her a flight. I couldn’t hold a conversation with her and call for security at the same time. I’d hoped to keep her at the desk long enough for airport security to arrive, but then I realized that I hadn’t put in the call and the man standing behind her got impatient and—”
Agent Wilkes stopped her. “What man? This is the first time you mentioned anyone else.”
“He was just another passenger behind her who got impatient that Ms. Davison was taking up so much time when there was a long line of customers waiting.”
“He wasn’t with her?”
“No.” She hesitated. She hadn’t considered this. “At least I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Stephanie closed her eyes and mentally reviewed the scene as it played out in her mind. After thinking it over she was fairly certain they weren’t connected. She gradually shook her head.
“I doubt it, but…” She wasn’t sure this was significant, and so stopped talking.
“But what?” Agent Wilkes insisted. “This could be important.”
“The man was also hoping to get on a flight to Seattle.”
Agent Wilkes stopped pacing and looked across the room at a second agent, who had remained quiet for a good part of the interview. “Did you hear that, Buckley?”
Agent Buckley nodded and approached Stephanie. He reached for a pad and started to take notes.
“Do you happen to recall this man’s name?” Agent Buckley asked.
He’d been good-looking, but she hadn’t really paid attention to his name. Stephanie shook her head. “Sorry, no.”
“Think again.” Agent Wilkes insisted, none too gently.
Stephanie closed her eyes and did her best to bring up the memory of their short conversation. Unfortunately, she couldn’t recall seeing anything with his name listed.
“I don’t believe he ever said his name.”
“Did he take out his identification? People do that instinctively when looking to book a ticket,” he reminded her.
As hard as she tried, Stephanie couldn’t remember seeing anything with his name. “I would have remembered if he had,” she insisted.
“Oh, and why’s that?”
She shifted in her seat and looked down in an effort to hide her embarrassment. “He was the kind of man women notice.”
“How’s that?”
“He was good-looking. Muscular…you know, physically fit, with one of those very short haircuts.”
“You mean a military cut?”
“Yeah, like that, and really the most incredible dark eyes. Real dark.”
“Sinister?”
“Oh, not at all. More like ‘look all you want, but you can’t have me’ eyes.”
The two agents glanced at each other and frowned.
“You writing that down, Buckley?”
Buckley snorted. “Not on your life.”
“Did you sell this man a ticket?”
“No. He claimed he had to be in Seattle before December twenty-second and couldn’t take a chance with standby. He needed a guaranteed seat and was willing to pay whatever it cost.”
The two agents froze. “The twenty-second, you say?”
“Yes.” She specifically recalled the date because it was the last day she was scheduled to work before taking time off for the holidays.
“Do you think we should put Seattle on alert?” Buckley asked.
Agent Wilkes shook his head. “It’s too early. We need more information.”
“Right.”
Agent Wilkes returned his attention to Stephanie once again. “What did you tell him?”
“The only thing I could. The only tickets available this close to Christmas were standby.” She wasn’t sure why the FBI agents were so curious about this man when she was convinced Ashley Davison and the looker weren’t connected.
Then Stephanie remembered something else. “That was when the woman…”
“Ashley Davison,” he supplied.
“Yes, Ms. Davison got terribly upset. She wanted to know why there was a possibility he could fly standby and she couldn’t.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“Nothing, but really you can’t blame her for being put out. I think a couple of people waiting in line agreed with her. Ms. Davison said this was gender discrimination because I chose to give the man a seat and not her.”
“Which is when you told her to kindly wait to the side?”
“Yes, but I’d been telling her that all along.” Stephanie couldn’t imagine why she had to repeat this story over and over again, but she was beginning to understand now. Each time she told it she remembered some other small detail, like the man behind Ashley Davison in line. “I wanted to call security to come for her, but she took off right away.”
“And you didn’t see which direction she went?”
Stephanie felt like a complete failure. She should have looked, but had gotten distracted by the man behind Davison in line, apologizing for keeping him waiting and explaining that she needed a minute while she reached for the phone. By the time she was able to connect with security, Ashley Davison was out of sight.
“You’re sure you didn’t see the direction in which she was headed?”
“No, sorry.”
Agent Buckley must have noticed her distress, because he said, “You’ve been helpful.”
“I wish I’d known to ask for more information.”
The door opened and a female agent entered the room.
“What did you learn from the surveillance tape?” Agent Wilkes asked.
The woman, Agent Bass, remained expressionless. “The camera isn’t focused on the Highland Airlines counter, so we weren’t able to get a clear photo of the woman.”
“What about after she left the counter?”
“We think we might have found her from the description provided by the reservation clerk.”
The only known photo available of the bombing suspect was blurred, but it gave enough detail to possibly identify her, Wilkes had explained earlier. He’d shown what he had to Stephanie, but she’d been unable to make a positive identification.
“The airport was crowded and it took some time to pick her out.”
“Is there a clear shot of her face?”
&nb
sp; The female agent exhaled. “She’s clever. Her head is lowered, so we were unable to get positive facial recognition.”
“Figures,” Agent Wilkes muttered.
Agent Bass agreed. “It’s almost as if she knew where the camera was situated and when to look down.”
“Anything else of significance?”
“The suitcase. She’s dragging a large suitcase with her. It looks to be heavy.”
The Highland Airlines clerk watched as the two male agents made eye contact. She wasn’t sure why this fact would be significant, but from their reaction, clearly it was.
“Would you be able to pick out the man who was at the counter with Ms. Davison?” Agent Wilkes asked, directing the question at her.
Right away Stephanie nodded. The looker had a face she wouldn’t soon forget. All that chiseled manhood would be hard to miss. Even now she got goose bumps just thinking about him. She really would have liked to help him, but there wasn’t anything she could do. All the Seattle-bound flights were booked solid, and overbooked in some instances.
“Show her the surveillance tapes,” Agent Wilkes instructed the female agent.
“Right away.”
Wanting to leave the room where she’d been cooped up for the better part of an hour, Stephanie was more than happy to stand up and move about.
“I’m Agent Bass,” the other woman said, introducing herself as she led Stephanie out of the room. “Carlene Bass.”
“Stephanie Arness,” she said, following the other woman’s lead.
“You’ve been a big help, Stephanie.”
“Thank you.” The other woman walked at a quick pace and Stephanie had to half trot in order to keep up with her. Although she’d worked for the airlines for five years, she’d never been in the area where the FBI agent took her now.
The compact room looked like the inside of a busy television station, with a long row of video screens showing a variety of activities taking place all at the same time in multiple areas of the airport.
“Can we show Ms. Arness the footage we discussed earlier?” Agent Bass asked the technician. Next she led Stephanie to a chair and indicated she should take a seat.
The technician typed in a few keystrokes and a video started to play on the screen in front of Stephanie. The scene looked like something out of a movie, with people hustling and bustling about. Mothers steered their children toward the security gates while others simply tried to move from one area to another.
Stephanie studied the faces as best she could and wasn’t able to identify a single one. She’d thought it would be easy to point out the looker, but that proved to be far more difficult than she assumed it would be.
“That’s the woman we believe to be Ashley Davison from the description you provided,” Agent Bass said, pointing toward the screen, and the technician froze the frame.
Stephanie squinted and shook her head. “That could be her.” From this angle it was nearly impossible to make out any facial identification. “That’s the coat she wore and she’s carrying the same purse,” Stephanie conceded. The more she stared at the technician’s screen, the more convinced she became.
“We’ve had Ashley Davison on our list for the last two years. This is a surprise. The most recent information we have indicated she was in Texas.”
Stephanie hated to appear naïve, but she had an important question. “If she’s so clever, then why is she using her real name?”
“Good question,” Agent Bass said, nodding approvingly. “It’s one I asked myself. If I wanted to get to Seattle in a hurry and knew that I was on a person-of-interest list for the FBI, then I would use an alias and fake ID.”
“Right.” That was totally reasonable. Why risk capture by using her real identity? It made no logical sense that Ashley Davison would make herself such an easy target. It was almost as if she was asking to be held up and questioned.
“Agent Wilkes thinks that she thrives on risk and what looks like a misstep is actually pure genius.”
“In what way?” Stephanie held her breath, convinced she was about to get insider information she’d be able to pass along to her friends.
“This might actually be a ploy to send us off in the direction of Seattle when she’s headed for L.A. But we have every intention of finding her before she has the opportunity to follow through with whatever her plans might be.”
“She’s…dangerous?” A chill went up Stephanie’s spine. Looking at her, no one would believe it. Ashley Davison looked as normal as anyone else. She was short, with big brown eyes and long brown hair—as American as apple pie. Cute, too.
Agent Bass hesitated. “We believe Davison is tied in with a terrorist organization and is already responsible for one bombing.”
That said, Agent Bass gestured for the technician to continue with the security tape.
As best she could, Stephanie studied the monitor, keeping her concentration focused on the video of the moving throng of people who flashed across the screen. It didn’t take long for her to recognize the man who’d been at the counter.
“There,” she cried, pointing at him. Actually, it was just as easy as she’d hoped it would be. He was several inches taller than those around him. He looked intent and was heading in the same direction as Ms. Davison. “That’s him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” She punctuated her comment with a nod.
Once more the technician froze the frame and Agent Bass connected with her two male counterparts. “We’ve ID’d him. Full-frontal view. I’m sending it on to Langley for facial recognition.” She listened for a moment and then said, “Right away.”
Stephanie could hear voices but was unable to make out what was being said.
Just before Stephanie stood to vacate the room, Agent Bass had her answer. She reached for her cell and connected with the other agents. “His name is Dashiell Sutherland, ex–army intelligence.”
Stephanie saw the agent’s reaction as she immediately tensed and disconnected the phone.
“What does that mean?” Stephanie asked.
It was almost as if the other woman had forgotten she was in the room. “We want to thank you again for all your help,” Agent Bass said, letting Stephanie know that they were finished with her. “You’re free to go now. If we need any further information we’ll be in touch.”
As eager as she’d been to get away, Stephanie was even more curious to find out what the FBI was thinking.
“I’m fairly certain the two had never seen each other until today,” she said, coming to the man’s defense, although she couldn’t be one hundred percent positive. All the banter between them might have been for show.
“Agent Wilkes disagrees, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Agents Buckley and Wilkes joined their fellow agent in the room. “If you weren’t able to get a flight to Seattle when you needed to be in the area for a certain amount of time, what would you do?” Agent Wilkes asked, as a rhetorical question.
“I’d rent a car,” Stephanie suggested, although she was fairly certain they weren’t interested in her opinion.
“That’s what I’d do,” Agent Bass concurred.
“We’re already checking,” Wilkes confirmed to his fellow agents.
Dash was clearly upset that he’d lost his phone. His jaw was clenched and he glared at Ashley as if she were personally responsible. She was about to defend herself but assumed it’d be best to keep her mouth closed and smile sweetly…until he gave a disgusted grunt and shook his head. At that point she’d had enough.
Ashley held up both arms as if he’d pulled a gun on her. “Hey, it wasn’t my fault. You were the one who tossed your coat in the backseat. Did you consider that it might have fallen out?” That was the only explanation that made sense.
“That phone was less than a month old,” he muttered.
“It is what it is. Accept it.” She was unwilling to sit in a car with him for however many miles while he stewed over a lost phone
.
“Easy for you to say.”
She agreed with him, but there was nothing they could do about it now. From the scowl he gave her she could tell her advice wasn’t appreciated.
“I thought you said you needed a restroom.”
“I do.”
He looked toward the building. “Are you waiting for a handwritten invitation?”
“No…but listen, you can use my phone if you need to…I don’t mind.”
“Big of you.”
“Hey, I’m only trying to be helpful.”
Dash plowed his fingers through his hair. His shoulders sagged as he exhaled slowly. “You’re right. Sorry.”
She gave him credit for the apology. The truth was she’d been upset, too, when her smartphone ended up in the washer and dryer. It’d taken her a while to get over the frustration of her own stupidity, and now she figured Dash needed time to stew. He’d get over it soon enough, she hoped.
She reached for her purse and headed toward the restrooms. As she walked toward the building she noticed a man at a small outbuilding wearing a cap that stated he was a Vietnam veteran. He was apparently a volunteer for the VFW offering free coffee and cookies to travelers. A large jar was set out for donations. She didn’t know about Dash, but she could certainly do with a cup.
As soon as she finished in the facilities, she approached the coffee stand and the vet. “Merry Christmas,” she said, beaming him a smile. She opened her purse and took out a few dollars and placed them inside the donation jar.
“Merry Christmas,” the vet returned, and then to her surprise added, “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a free puppy?”
“A puppy?” she repeated. “I came for coffee.” She pocketed a couple of cookies as well.
“Sure, sure, help yourself to the coffee, but while you’re here, think about the puppy.”
Ashley didn’t see any puppies. “What’s the deal?”
Frowning, the vet shook his head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with people these days. I showed up this morning and found a whole litter of puppies someone had dumped in a box in the parking lot. Poor little buggers were near frozen to death. I brought them in here where it’s warm and gave them some milk and now I’m looking to find them homes.”