“George. George Thomas.”
“You found drugs on your plane, didn’t you?”
Ivy blinks, and for the first time since we made eye contact, it’s like she really sees me standing in front of her. “Is it true?”
A pulse of irritation rises in my chest. I was so close. “Is what true?”
“My dad. My mom… is it true?”
I run my tongue along my teeth, debating the worth of answering her here. The damage is already done, though. “Yes.”
Ivy’s face crumples, her shoulders hunch forward, and she curls into her palms, her sobs renewed. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand!”
That makes two of us.
Silence falls and I halt my questioning to let her cry.
This is not going to plan. A plane crash is one thing, but this wasn’t any regular plane crash. That plane was the peace agreement between two families who had been tearing each other apart for the better part of two years. Rather small fish in regard to what my line of work is supposed to deal with, or so I’m told, but something about this entire situation sours my tongue and turns my stomach.
Six passengers survived that crash. Six passengers and Ivy. The other six seem as in the dark as Ivy is, but she’s the only one with the supposed means to know those drugs were stashed there. They asked me to take care of her, but I can’t until I know the truth.
I never pull the trigger until I understand why.
“I want to go home.” Ivy, her sobs subsiding once more, looks up at me with raw, red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t deserve to be under arrest.”
“That’s what everyone says,” I reply.
“So, you’re really going to arrest me?”
I lift one shoulder. “I’m not a cop. Not my problem.”
Ivy’s brow creases once more and she glances at the door. “But those… those two. They left when you told them to. What do you mean you’re not a cop?” Her eyes drift down me, from my leather-clad shoulders to the white T-shirt clinging to my body, then down further to my dark blue jeans. “You’re really not a cop?”
“Do you think I look like one?”
“I don’t know. I’ve n-never dealt with the cops before.”
“Like I said, I’m not a cop. Now, let’s get back to the drugs.” If she’s calm enough to talk, then I don’t have time to waste. “Where were they?”
“Are you from the airline?” She clean ignores my question.
“No.”
“Are you a lawyer?”
I fight the slightest hint of amusement. “No.”
“Then…” Her eyes dart back and forth and her nose scrunches. “I don’t think I should be talking to you.”
“I’m the only one you should be talking to.”
“No…” Despite the tears continuing to leak down her cheeks, she looks back up at me with a flash of defiance in her eyes. “I’m n-not talking to anyone except… except my doctor.”
“Ivy.”
“No, no, I don’t know you. I don’t know them. I don’t know why I’m trapped here. I just want to go home! My parents live in New York, I want to go see them!”
“You can’t go home, Ivy. Now, the drugs?—”
