He heaved a big sigh. “Fine. We’ll give it a go. But since we can’t fly with firearms, we need to secure them.”
“How far to Phoenix?”
“Two, maybe three hours,” he said, tracking her thinking. Nick was there visiting Lori. They could park the truck at the airport and let him know where to pick it up. They’d also have more options of flights from the larger hub. “Phoenix it is.”
Aiden took I-8 to I-10. Traffic in and out of a large city was always dicey, but with them only stopping once to use the restroom, they made great time.
At the Sky Harbor International Airport, they parked at the terminal and stowed their vests and firearms under a seat in the truck but hung on to their badges and comms devices.
Charlie also kept the gym bag.
“What else is in there?” Aiden asked.
“The supplies to stitch up your arm. They won’t let us through security with everything, so I’ll check the bag.”
“Thanks,” he said. “For thinking about it.” That was what they did, took care of each other.
“No problem.” She grabbed what was left of her soda and held it up. “In case we need a diversion when they check our IDs.”
He locked the doors, placing the fob back in the key box, and had Charlie make sure no one was watching while he put it back under the carriage.
They walked directly to ticketing and checked the departure boards. A Delta flight to Baton Rouge. Ninety-minute drive. But it was boarding now. United had one leaving in forty minutes to New Orleans. A nonstop flight.
“Let’s hope they have tickets,” Aiden said.
The line at the ticket counter was short and moved quickly. A weary-looking woman of about sixty greeted them when it was their turn.
“We’re hoping to get two seats on your last flight to New Orleans.” Charlie placed the soda cup with plastic lid on the counter.
The woman clicked away on her keyboard. “I have a handful left. None together, unfortunately. But you’ll have to hurry to make it.”
“Sounds good,” Aiden said, setting down Benally’s license. “One bag to check.”
“Thanks so much.” Charlie handed over the ID and credit card. “He just got a big promotion and I promised we’d go there to celebrate. My treat.”
The woman lined the identification up in front of her and typed in their information, glancing between the cards and the screen, disinterested in their story, but Charlie kept talking.
“You’ve worked so hard. You deserve to have some fun.” She wrapped her arm around his and put her head on his shoulder.
“We deserve some fun,” he said, playing along as if they were a couple.
The woman swiped the credit card and took the bag. She typed some more, and the machine printed boarding cards. After attaching the baggage tag to their one checked item, she collated the tickets with the right licenses. “You two better hurry. Enjoy your trip and congratulations on your promotion,” she said, handing them over.
Charlie picked up her soda with a smile. “Have a good evening.”
They jogged to the checkpoint, where it was one person’s sole job to verify a picture ID against the ticket. They got in place with the string of passengers and shuffled forward.
Loosening the plastic lid on her cup, Charlie adjusted it to sit on top instead of clicked down in place. Aiden lowered the bill of his cap.
Next in line, they were waved forward.
Charlie took his ticket and license, slipping them behind hers. They stepped up to the podium together, and she handed over everything to the fortysomething screener.
The man looked down at Priscilla’s license and up at Charlie. Appearing satisfied, he scribbled a mark on the ticket and gave Charlie back hers.
Then the screener glanced at Benally’s license.
As the middle-aged man’s gaze lifted to Aiden, Charlie stepped to the side and tripped.
The lid of her cup flew off. Soda splashed on the floor, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Darn it,” she said. “I’m sorry about the mess. I really wanted to finish that, too.”
“It’s all right, miss. We’ll get it cleaned up. You were going to have to toss that anyway before you got through security.” He scribbled on Aiden’s ticket and handed it to him along with the license and then gestured for them to move on. “Watch your step, please.”
Clearing the rest of security was a breeze. They put their badges discreetly in the plastic tray along with their communication devices, the flash drive, shoes and the cell phone.
If they had been traveling on official business, they would have had their sidearms, gone to the head of the line and then through a side door.
As regular joes, they each took a turn in the security hoop, hands raised, boots off.
On the other side, they finished lacing up their boots and headed to the gate. It was fairly empty. The majority of passengers taking the flight had already boarded.
“Where are you seated?” she asked.
“Row twenty-three. Aisle. You?”
“Ten. Window. I’ll talk to a flight attendant and see if she can get someone to switch.”
The cell phone rang. Aiden took it out. “Nick’s number.”
“Good thing he called before we got on.”
Their plane was going to land late in the Louis Armstrong Airport, after eleven.
He hit the answer button. “It’s Aiden.”
“Hey, man. I wish I was calling with better news.”
Aiden met Charlie’s gaze and shook his head. “Give me a sec.” He took her elbow and steered her off into a corner, out of anyone else’s earshot, and put the call on speaker. “Go ahead. We can both hear you.”
Charlie paced in front of him, her hands on her hips.
“I’ve got details about the eyewitness,” Nick said. “He was supposedly hiking at Mission Trail Park. As he was leaving, going south on Mission Gorge Road, headed back to a friend’s house, where he was staying while on vacation, he claims he saw Yazzie shoot Torres and Killinger take out the cop.”
“Vacation?” Aiden asked. “If he’s not from San Diego, where does he live?”
“New Orleans,” Nick said.
That jarred Charlie to a stop. “Are you kidding me?”
“Albatross is from New Orleans. You said yourself he has a powerful enemy there, a mobster who wants him dead,” Aiden said. “Doesn’t anyone find that the least bit suspicious?”