You Can't Catch Me(57)

Jessie’s confusion disappears quickly. “How come you didn’t come to the counter?”

“I did, but I met her and forgot all about it.” I turn to Five to include her in the conversation. “Can you believe it, J . . . Julie? She’s another Jessica Williams!”

“No way.”

“Yeah, weird, right?”

“Totally.” Jessie pulls a seat over from the table next door and sits down. I want to find a way to ask her what she’s doing in the airport, but I hold it. There’s no way to have that conversation right now.

“So,” Jessie says to me, “have you done it?”

“Done what?”

“You know, played the game.”

“The . . .” I stop and give Jessie a look.

“What game?” Five asks.

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, trying to kick Jessie under the table.

Five puts her hands on the table and pushes her chair back. “I think I’m going to go.”

“No,” Jessie and I say in unison. “Stay.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.” Her eyes wander around the restaurant and come to rest on the security guard standing near gate three. One yell from her and we’ll all be in some trouble.

“I’m Jessica Williams,” I say.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“And she’s Jessica Williams too.” I point to Jessie. Jessie’s face reddens. We are way, way, way off book now.

Five frowns. “I thought you said her name was Julie? And that she was your sister.”

“She’s not.”

“And you’re both called Jessica Williams?”

“Yes. And we were all born on the same day.”

Five’s hands start to shake in fear. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“That’s a long story.”

She checks her watch. “I’ve got an hour. That long enough for you?”

It only takes half an hour to tell her the condensed version of what’s happened up to now. All the “chance” meetings, the cons, how I’d hatched this plan to finally catch Jessica Two.

“Why did you think this was going to work?” Five asks. She hasn’t touched the burger she ordered, though I’ve already finished mine, eating it greedily between snippets of explanation. Jessie didn’t say much as I talked, just steadily ate a plate of fries, dipping each one into a mound of ketchup with the precision of a surgeon.

“Because this is how each of us got taken in.”

“But no one approached me.”

“There was that woman you were sitting next to earlier.”

“What woman?”

“The one over there.” I point to where she was sitting before.

“Shit, my bag,” Five says. “I should go get it.”

I stop her. “It’s still there. Which doesn’t say much for security, but I’ve been checking.”

“Is she Jessica Two?”

“Hard to be sure. She’s good at disguises.” I take the pictures I have of Jessica Two out of my bag. I lay them on the table in front of Five. “Have you ever seen this woman?”

She picks each one up individually, then puts it back down. “This is the same person?”

“Yes.”

“She’s smart to cover her ears and forehead.”

“That’s what Liam said.”

Jessie rolls her eyes. “How did you know that? About the ears?”

“I did portraits for a long time. You learn pretty quickly how to make someone look different, especially in photographs.”

“So,” I say, “that woman could be her.”

“Yeah, I guess. So why did you call for me on the intercom?”

“I wanted to flush her out. If she was here, she would’ve reacted to me calling her name.”

“Or, she saw what you were doing and beat it,” Jessie says, staring down into her endless glass of Coke.

“I made a snap decision.”

Jessie looks up. She’s furious. “It was a stupid decision. And now we’re left with nothing.”

“We’ll think of something.”

“You should go to the police,” Five says.

“No,” Jessie says. “We’ve tried that. Useless. Besides, what’s the crime right now? We’re the ones who set up a fake event. We could be in trouble.”

A voice speaks through the loudspeaker. The flight to New York will begin boarding in ten minutes.

Five stands. “This is where I leave you.”

“You’re still going?” I ask.

“Damn straight. Free weekend in New York. Why not?”

“Makes sense,” I say. “Only . . .”

“What?”

“Be careful, okay?”

“Don’t speak to any other Jessicas?”

“Definitely not.”

She stands and picks up her cell phone. “Let me know how this all turns out. I’m curious.”

“Sure, give me your number.”

“What’s yours?” she says. I give it to her and she texts me. This is Five.

I smile. “Sorry about all this.”