Chapter 8: Ten Minutes to Tell the Truth
Sergeant Grant read the message twice.
"Where did this come from?""
Robert examined the cabin display.
"I don't know. That system isn't connected to passenger messaging.""
Grant turned toward her colleague.
"Secure the aircraft communication system. I want the source identified.""
I placed Arthur's envelope inside my briefcase.
"Nobody touches these documents without my authorization.""
Grant nodded.
"Agreed.""
Michael was sitting on a galley seat, drinking water. His hands were still shaking.
I moved closer.
"Michael, I need you to tell me everything you know about Arthur's death.""
He looked up.
"I was working in the maintenance hangar that night.""
"Six years ago?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Arthur asked me to meet him. He said he had discovered something about an aircraft maintenance contract.""
"What happened?""
Michael rubbed his face.
"He arrived carrying a brown folder. He told me that someone had been approving repairs without inspecting the aircraft.""
"Did he mention Thomas?""
"Not initially.""
"Then?""
"He received a phone call. Afterward, he looked terrified.""
"Who called him?""
"I couldn't hear.""
Michael paused.
"Then he told me to leave immediately.""
I leaned forward.
"Did you?""
"Yes. But I came back about twenty minutes later because I'd forgotten my keys.""
"And?""
"The hangar was empty. Arthur's car was still there, but his folder was gone.""
"Did you report it?""
"I tried. The next morning, I learned he had supposedly died at a hospital.""
I frowned.
"Supposedly?""
Michael nodded.
"I never saw a death certificate. I never saw a body. I just heard the news.""
I looked toward the captain.
"Robert, do you have access to the original passenger and crew records from the emergency flight?""
"Yes.""
"Bring them.""
He walked toward the cockpit.
Emily approached me.
"Ms. Whitmore, there's something else.""
I turned.
"What?""
She looked uncomfortable.
"Victoria told me something yesterday.""
I glanced toward the chief flight attendant.
Victoria was sitting beside Sergeant Grant, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
"What did she tell you?""
Emily lowered her voice.
"She said the airline had received a request to remove one passenger from today's flight.""
"Who?""
"You.""
I stared at her.
"Me?""
Emily nodded.
"She was given a photograph of you and told to report immediately if you boarded.""
I felt a chill.
"Who gave her the photograph?""
"Daniel Cross.""
I turned toward Victoria.
"Is that true?""
She looked up.
Her eyes were red.
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought you were just another investigator who could be persuaded to leave.""
"Persuaded?""
Victoria looked down.
"Daniel said you were coming to destroy the company. He told me to make you uncomfortable enough to request another seat or leave the aircraft.""
I remembered the orange juice.
"Was that why you poured it on me?""
She nodded.
"He said you hated public embarrassment. He thought if I humiliated you in front of the passengers, you'd leave before anyone checked your credentials.""
I stared at her.
"And you agreed?""
"I needed the promotion.""
I took a slow breath.
"You deliberately assaulted a passenger to protect a company executive.""
Victoria began crying.
"I know.""
"No. I don't think you do.""
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Robert returned carrying a thick folder.
"Ms. Whitmore, I found something.""
He opened it on the counter.
It was a copy of the original crew assignment sheet from Flight 417.
He pointed to a handwritten amendment.
"Someone added a maintenance observer to the flight after the final passenger list was approved.""
I leaned closer.
The name was unfamiliar.
*JAMES CARTER.*
I looked at Victoria.
"Who is James Carter?""
She swallowed.
"He's the maintenance supervisor.""
"Was he aboard this flight?""
She shook her head.
"Not according to the final manifest.""
Robert pointed to the signature.
"But somebody approved his boarding.""
I examined the document.
The signature belonged to Thomas.
My brother had authorized an additional passenger.
"Where is this man now?"" I asked.
Victoria hesitated.
Then she pointed toward the rear.
"He was supposed to travel in the service compartment.""
Michael suddenly stood up.
"That's impossible.""
"Why?"" I asked.
"Because I found his identification badge inside the compartment.""
I turned toward him.
"Was he there when you were locked inside?""
Michael nodded.
"He was the person who locked the panel.""
Grant immediately stood.
"Can you identify him?""
"Yes.""
"Where is he now?""
Michael looked toward the aircraft door.
"He must have left when I started calling you.""
Grant contacted her team.
A few seconds later, her radio crackled.
"Sergeant Grant, we have someone matching that description near the terminal service entrance.""
Grant grabbed her equipment.
"Where?""
"He's attempting to enter a maintenance vehicle.""
She looked at me.
"Stay here. We're going after him.""
But before she could leave, Victoria suddenly spoke.
"Don't let him go.""
Grant turned.
"Why?""
Victoria's face had gone pale.
"Because James Carter isn't just a maintenance supervisor.""
"What is he?""
She looked directly at me.
"He's the man who was supposed to make sure Michael never left that compartment alive.""
Michael staggered backward.
Emily gasped.
I looked at the security officer.
"Go. Now.""
Grant hurried toward the exit.
The second officer followed.
I turned to Michael.
"Did you see Carter's face?""
"Yes.""
"Would you recognize him?""
"Anywhere.""
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
Then his expression changed.
"Wait.""
"What?""
He pointed to the younger man standing behind Arthur and Daniel.
"That's him.""
I examined the photograph.
The man in the background was wearing a maintenance uniform.
His face was partially hidden by a shadow.
But Michael was certain.
"That's James Carter.""
I looked at the date.
Six years ago.
James Carter had been working with Arthur Bennett long before the airline claimed he joined its maintenance department.
And if Michael was right, Carter had been involved in the cover-up from the beginning.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated.
An incoming call.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke immediately.
"Ms. Whitmore, this is Arthur Bennett.""
My heart nearly stopped.
"Arthur?""
"Listen carefully. You have to get off that aircraft.""
"Where are you?""
"I don't have much time.""
"Are you alive?""
He ignored the question.
"Thomas has already sent someone to retrieve the envelope.""
"James Carter?""
A pause.
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because the envelope contains proof that Thomas wasn't just approving maintenance reports.""
I looked at the photograph.
"What else did he do?""
Arthur's voice dropped to a whisper.
"He arranged the accident that killed your husband.""
I couldn't breathe.
My husband, Richard, had died in a highway collision eight years earlier.
The official investigation had concluded that a truck driver lost control on an icy road.
Arthur continued.
"Richard discovered the financial transfers. He was going to expose Thomas.""
I gripped the phone.
"You're saying my husband was murdered?""
"Yes, Eleanor.""
Then the call abruptly ended.
I stood frozen.
Emily gently touched my arm.
"Ms. Whitmore?""
I couldn't answer.
Because suddenly, the investigation wasn't just about Flight 417.
May you like
It was about my family.
And the man I had mourned for eight years.
