He made the drive to Dulles International Airport braced for the police to box him in and force him onto the shoulder. In the back, Duke and Bear whispered to each other. He’d always been able to hear them clearly, no matter the noise, but now he found himself straining to catch what they were saying. At first it unnerved him, but after a few miles it felt strangely soothing, and he forgot that they were there at all. The main terminal of the airport rose up at the end of the road. In the daylight, its distinctive swoop glistened like the wing of an aircraft in flight. He parked in its shadow and left the doors unlocked. The keys went on the dashboard, the gun in the glove compartment. The bullets disappeared down a storm drain.
Duke and Bear followed him into the terminal. Bear had trouble keeping up in the crowd, and Duke had to take her hand. It was strange being back here again so soon. In the aftermath of last night’s incident, security was on an emergency footing. In addition to airport police, Gibson saw FBI and Homeland Security. A pair of armed soldiers in urban camos eyed him as he passed by. He prayed Ogden had held up his end of the bargain and that he wasn’t walking into an ambush. He rubbed the brim of his Phillies cap; he needed its good luck right about now.
The heightened security had snarled progress at the check-in counters. A line fifty passengers deep snaked in front of the Lufthansa desk. He took his place and, while he waited, took out his phone so he could look at the photograph of Ellie. For one wonderful moment, he contemplated getting out of line and finding a flight to Seattle. A tap on his shoulder ended his reverie and reminded him why it was an impossibility. He spun around, expecting the barrel of a gun, but found only an apologetic German tourist with a question. Gibson answered as best he could.
When Gibson finally made it to the counter, he handed over his passport and asked for a one-way ticket to Frankfurt. The fare was almost three thousand dollars. Next time, try and book in advance, the schoolmarmish counter agent advised. He paid with Calista’s credit card and asked for a window seat. An eternity passed while she entered his information. She scanned his passport, and he could feel himself sweating. She kept glancing up at him until he felt certain she was stalling while security got into position.
“You’re all set.” She handed him back his passport and circled his departure gate on his boarding pass.
It felt too easy. Far too easy. An airport police officer with a service dog passed him without a second glance. Maybe they were waiting to take him at the TSA checkpoint.
He made his way through the crowd and found Duke and Bear waiting for him.
“This is where we say good-bye, kiddo,” Duke said.
“You’re not coming?” Gibson asked.
“We don’t have tickets,” Bear said.
“We’re going to stay here,” Duke said. “Keep an eye on things while you’re gone. Now get going.”
“Yeah, get going,” Bear said with a grin.
Gibson knew it was for the best, but the thought of losing them hurt all the same. He didn’t care if that made him crazy. He picked up his bag and turned to get into line for security.
“Is that your Phillies cap?” Duke asked Bear.
“Yes, but I gave it to him.”
“Suits him.”
“That’s what I keep saying,” she said.
After that, Gibson couldn’t hear them anymore.
The TSA checkpoint was swamped, but his flight didn’t leave for ninety minutes, so he would still make it. He shuffled ahead, stop-start, pushing his duffel bag forward with his foot. It took an agonizingly long time to get to the head of the line. With each step, he expecting to be dragged out of line and handcuffed.
He glanced back over his shoulder but saw only Duke and Bear, who stood on the concourse waiting for him to pass through security. Bear was giggling. Duke must have been telling tall tales about something or other. His father had always had the golden touch with kids. Bear glanced up at Gibson and waved. He waved back. His father smiled and winked his trademark wink.
The line moved again, and Gibson shouldered his bag. A TSA worker beckoned him forward to her podium. She scanned his boarding pass, frowning as she read her display. Gibson’s throat tightened, and he forced a smile, holding it despite feeling like a grinning idiot. She scribbled her initials on his boarding pass and handed it back along with his passport.
“Have a good flight,” she said.
“You too,” he said automatically, but before he could correct his mistake, she waved the next passenger forward.
And like that, he was through.
He picked up a plastic tub and looked back one last time. Duke held Bear by the hand, and together they turned away and walked down the concourse. Gibson watched them until they disappeared from sight.
The line was backing up behind him. Gibson took off his shoes and belt, put what little he owned on the conveyor belt, and stepped into the machine to be scanned. He raised his hands above his head and stood still while the rotating arm circled him. A bored TSA agent looked at a small monitor, nodded, and waved Gibson through to the other side.