“United,” Beth told them.
“An hour is a big head start,” Ryan said, “So assuming she’s not playing us by leaving the airport again right away or going to another terminal after having been dropped off, we need to determine which United flight she’s most likely to take. Any suggestions?”
There were several seconds of silence, punctuated by the car’s siren. Beth finally broke it.
“She’s from Springfield, Missouri,” she offered. “Maybe she’d try to catch a flight there and get help from folks back home.”
“Right,” Kat agreed, “or pick a neighboring city. She wouldn’t want to rent a car because that would pop in the system but she might call an old friend or relative and ask them to come get her.”
“Or,” Jessie said, though she hoped she was wrong on this, “she could be booking a flight to a non-extradition country.”
Ryan’s face sagged at the suggestion, though he nodded that it was a good one.
“We’re just pulling up, guys,” he said to the research crew. “Can you get us a list of any flights leaving in the next hour from this terminal headed to Springfield, Missouri, or any other airport within two hundred miles of it, as well as flights headed to non-extradition countries?”
“Will do,” Jamil said without hesitation.
Ryan pulled up to the arrivals section of the terminal and hopped out, waving for the attention of the nearest airport officer to explain their situation.
“You know,” Kat said to Jessie as they got out of the car, “I’ve dealt with several cases where people have tried to disappear and this may be more complicated than we think. If she planned this scheme well in advance, she’s probably gotten a fake ID with fake papers, maybe even credit cards. I wouldn’t expect that her name is going to pop up on the manifest for any of these flights.”
“Okay,” Jessie said, refusing to be daunted. “That just means we’ll have to go at this old school. Ryan can head to airport security and look at video footage from the last hour. You can go to the ticket counters and show agents her photo to see if anyone recognizes her. I’ll head into the terminal and start checking each gate’s waiting area, bathrooms, bars—anywhere she might be hiding out.”
Ryan joined them.
“I told the airport cop what’s going on and he’s squaring everything away. They’re processing temporary security badges so we can go anywhere we need.”
“That’s great,” Jessie said, “Because we’re going to need to go lots of places.”
She filled him in on her idea as they entered the terminal.
“Sounds good,” he replied. “I guess this is where we split up.”
“Just be careful,” Jessie reminded them. “This is a woman who choked her own husband to death with a hair ribbon. If she feels trapped and sees one of us before we see her, who knows what she’s capable of?”
With that in mind, they all headed off in different directions, each in search of a murderer.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The woman leaving the restroom looked familiar, at least from the back. She was petite and buxom with blonde hair that draped her shoulders. Jessie ran over to her and grabbed her by the arm.
The woman turned around, startled. It wasn’t Bridget. This person was a decade younger than her and bore no resemblance.
“Sorry,” Jessie muttered and backed away.
She looked down the long concourse, where hundreds of people were scurrying about in every direction, and processed fully just how unlikely she was to find Bridget Newhouse by simply wandering around. But without a choice, she plowed ahead. Still, she needed to be on high alert now. Bridget could be anywhere.
Jessie’s confidence from just minutes earlier seemed foolish now. With the special badge that she was given when she arrived at the security area, getting through the line had been a breeze. She only wished she could keep the thing for personal flights.
Once she moved past the crowd of people getting searched by TSA agents and putting their shoes back, she had darted up the stairs to the main concourse, where she saw the blonde. But after that screw up, Jessie stopped for a moment, allowing her brain to catch up to her body.
After her head cleared, she proceeded to the bathroom that the blonde woman had just left. Two stalls were occupied and she banged on both. “Bridget, come out. There’s nowhere to go.”
The angry responses she got from both occupants allowed her to judge their voices and determine that neither was Bridget either. Undeterred, Jessie followed the same pattern as she made her way down the concourse: scanning the people at the gates, scouring shops, bars, and restaurants, and accosting unsuspecting women trying to use the bathroom. She came up empty every time.
Sensing time slipping away from her, she messaged Ryan and Kat on a group text: I’m not having any success so far. What about you guys?
The response from Ryan came almost immediately: nothing yet. The airport security camera system is antiquated. Everything takes forever.
Moments later Kat offered her input: No one recognizes her yet, but I’m only halfway through the ticket agents.
Jessie pressed on, scanning passengers at gates, though she also doubted that Bridget would simply sit casually at her gate, waiting for her group to be called up to board. She would likely stay out of sight until the last possible moment.
Jessie was almost to the end of the concourse, trying to fight off the sinking feeling that they were way too late, when Jamil called on a group line with her, Ryan, and Kat.
“What have you got?” Ryan asked.
“I decided to look into Bridget’s background,” he said, “I was hoping to figure out who she might call back home in Missouri if she was desperate and I found something interesting: Her birth name is Blanca Rivera. She was born in Ecuador. Her family moved here when she was four.”
“That is interesting,” Jessie agreed. “Does the U.S. have an extradition treaty with them?”
“Yes,” Beth said, jumping in, “but it’s more complicated than that. Ecuador is known for prioritizing political asylum claims over extradition requests. Remember when Edward Snowden was on the run? Everyone thought he might go to Ecuador for that very reason. And Julian Assange spent years holed up in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London while courts fought over whether his asylum claims were credible. And neither of those two are native-born Ecuadorians. If Bridget Newhouse gets there and makes an asylum claim, it might be hard to fight it.”
“And,” Kat added. “I’m guessing that while that’s dragging out, it would be a whole lot easier for her to surreptitiously travel to a non-extradition country from there than from here.”
“All good points,” Jessie noted. “So I assume there’s a United flight to Ecuador leaving soon, Jamil?”
“Yes,” he told her. “One leaves for the capitol city, Quito, in ten minutes. It departs from gate 5.”
Jessie looked up. She was at gate 29. Gate 5 was back near security. She started running in that direction.
“I’m headed back that way now,” she huffed. “Kat, can you check to see if any agents who checked in that flight recognize her?”