The Flight Attendant(83)

“You’re welcome—though I really didn’t do anything. Now, you should go get some sleep. I can certainly use a nap.”

Cassie nodded and watched a bellman carry her suitcase up half a dozen marble steps and then roll it to the reception desk. She would sleep. But first she would call her lawyer back in New York. It was almost seven a.m. on the East Coast. Ani would most likely be up.



* * *



? ?

“You saw her?” It was a question, but Cassie could hear the shock and incredulity in Ani’s voice over the phone.

“Maybe,” Cassie said. “I’m torn. I thought I did. I was sure at the time I did. But the more I think back on the moment, the more it seems possible I was mistaken. Maybe this is just one more example of the way I’m losing my mind. It’s just getting harder and harder to keep it together. That may scare me as much as anything right now.” She was perched in the desk chair in her hotel room, one leg underneath her. She feared that if she sat on the bed, she would lie down and fall asleep midconversation. Maybe she’d never get up. She was on a different floor from last week but on the same side of the building, and once more she could see the towers of the Trinità dei Monti outside her window.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Ani demanded, and so Cassie did, including her interview with Fiumicino’s airport security.

“Did you just yawn?” Ani asked when she had finished.

“I’m exhausted.”

“I get it. But you must realize that going after some poor woman in baggage is exactly the sort of thing that gives the airline a reason to put you on a leave of absence. Today’s New York Post? Nah. They won’t ground the Cart Tart Killer—that’s just alleged craziness—but they will ground a flight attendant who is demonstrably unstable in baggage at a major international airport.”

The magnitude of that sentence caused Cassie to nod, even though she was alone in the room. “That has crossed my mind,” she admitted.

“And obviously you have given the prosecution, when they get around to you, a little more fodder. This is a thousand times worse than calling Sokolov’s family in Virginia on Saturday night.”

“I know.”

“And yet you went up to this lady in the airport just because she had the same duffel bag as the person you saw in line? What did you think, she’d put on a disguise?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I was just so frustrated that the woman I thought was Miranda was suddenly gone.”

“God. I really am worried about you. You are completely out of control.”

“I know. I’m a little scared, Ani. I’m scared I’m not thinking straight anymore, even when I’m sober. I mean, I thought I was being followed in New York.”

“What?”

“Twice I saw a guy with a black ball cap on the street behind me. He was wearing sunglasses. Another time I was sure he was there.”

“But you didn’t see him?”

“Not the third time. That’s my point. I think I’m losing it.”

“Maybe you are. But maybe not. I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI has someone watching you.”

“So I’m not crazy?”

“Oh, you are crazy, Cassie. You’re an absolute mess. But that doesn’t mean you’re not being followed. Please view the pepper spray as a wake-up call. A warning. I’m sorry it happened. I really am because I hate to think of your discomfort. But I’m also a little grateful that someone dialed you down before you did something absolutely insane.”

“I would never have hurt her. I’m not violent.” At least I’m not yet, she thought. “Grabbing her was a reflex.”

“Are you still in pain? Uncomfortable?”

Cassie had been careful to avoid the large mirror in the hotel room. She didn’t want to see how blotchy her face most likely was. She feared her eyes were still vampire red. The nurse told her she would look much better by dinner. She hoped so. “Not really. But I’m wondering if you or your private investigator can do something for me.”

“Go on.”

“Can you check the passenger manifests of the planes that arrived in Rome this morning? Can we find out if there was a woman named Miranda on one?”

“I thought you believed you were mistaken.”

“I said I’m torn. I seem to go back and forth.”

“Well, I can’t find that out,” said Ani, “but I’ll ask my P.I. I doubt he can, either. That kind of sounds like a job for the FBI.”

“Okay,” Cassie said, though her lawyer’s response frightened her. “Has he told you anything more about Alex’s background?”

“No. I’ll call him after we hang up.”

“Thank you. Oh—and I’m sorry I didn’t say this right away—thanks also for the way you handled that reporter from the New York Post. I really appreciate it.”

“I know you do. Trust me, so does my boss,” Ani said wryly. Then she asked, “What are you doing this afternoon? And tonight?”

“Worried I’m going to try and find Miranda myself?”

“No.”

“But you do believe she exists, right? I mean, maybe she’s not in Rome. Maybe I didn’t see her. But she is out there somewhere.”