The next morning, an eerie sense of unease settles over me as I sip my coffee in the lounge. Jack sits across from me, flipping through notes we’ve gathered over the past few days. His blue eyes are sharp, scanning each detail with precision, but I can tell he’s as on edge as I am.
Brenda hasn’t shown up yet.
“She’s probably running late,” Jack says, though the furrow in his brow betrays his concern.
I nod, trying to convince myself that he’s right. Brenda is reliable to a fault, but maybe she got caught up in something. Maybe she’s digging into another lead or cornering a crew member for information. Still, the silence is unnerving.
We wait another fifteen minutes, and my patience wears thin. The lounge buzzes with the energy of passengers enjoying their morning routines, but my focus
