“Arrivals from Eastport, last night," Jackson said, phone wedged to his ear as he strode across the terminal. “Private and commercial."
Leo's voice crackled. “Already pulled. She wasn't on the list."
“She could have bought at the counter."
“I checked CCTV at three gates," Leo said. “No Freya."
“She's wearing a hoodie," Jackson snapped. “She's not Freya on camera. Scrub for height, gait, bandage at the jaw, hood string on the left."
“You want me to find a ghost," Leo said. “Copy. Ghost with a limp."
“Don't be cute."
“Not cute. Exhausted," Leo said. “You've been at this thirty hours."
“Then match my pace," Jackson said, and cut the call.
He moved down the concourse like obligation had an airport. He scanned every face with the hunger of a man who had missed the crucial clue and was
