Page 95 of The Alibi Club

Rick stretched his arms over his head and finally said, “She’s not here. Good try, Weston. But I’m hungry. I’m going to get the car.”

Shannon, Kyle, and Holly all glumly nodded. “I’ll go with you.” Holly grabbed Rick’s arm as they headed out.

Cliff, stubborn yet stumped, asked Kyle, “Which plane is it?”

Kyle looked at his phone and gave the flight numbers of the Bombardier jet going to Monterey. “AL474.”

Cliff looked out the large windows. Across the tarmac a sleek Bombardier jet waited, lights on, wheel chocks still in place, pocket door still open, engine running.

Cliff approached the gate attendant, a stunningly gorgeous woman with an English accent. “Excuse me, Miss, have all the passengers boarded flight AL474?”

“I don’t understand, sir?” The gate attendant looked confused.

“Are all the passengers already on board?” He pointed to the waiting jet outside. She looked over.

“Oh, they are just doing the last safety check. There are no passengers on that flight this evening, sir. Just the pilot taking the plane back to its originating airport.”

“Thank you,” Cliff said, dejected.

Shannon sighed. “I have to hit the bathroom before we leave. Will you wait for me, Kyle?”

“I’ll always wait for you,” he said, squeezing her hand. Shannon kissed him on the cheek and basked in his sweetness. She wandered off. Kyle stood next to Cliff, silent.

Cliff stood staring out the window, willing the appearance of Lorna Gray. Jamie gently touched his arm. He knew that if he looked at her, in the next moment she would say they should give up and go home and he would obey. It was a stretch to believe Lorna might be here, now, in this moment, anyway. He didn’t have that kind of luck. He waited one more beat and finally relented. He looked at her.

Jamie, with a glint in her eye, said, “Let’s go meet that pilot.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The Opposite of Love

JAMIE

Kyle and Shannon distracted the English gate agent guarding the door out to the tarmac with a barrage of questions about membership in their premium private airline, which she gladly entertained. Cliff and Jamie snuck out the door and began sprinting across the tarmac to the Bombardier jet.

When they got to the door of the plane and peeked in, Jamie was sure there would be some sort of security to block their entry onto the plane, but she saw none. Not even a stewardess. She gingerly stepped on the first rung of the pocket door into the plane, and Cliff followed.

They were both able to stand straight up inside the jet and looked around the interior. Outfitted in white leather and polished burlwood tables, it exuded quiet luxury.

The door to the cockpit suddenly opened and there—unbelievingly and in all her brazen glory—stood Lorna Gray, her sleek auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, pilot headgear on, sporting a soft white leather bomber jacket. If she was startled, she didn’t show it.

Only one side of her smile went up when she saw Cliff and Jamie standing there.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the love birds,” Lorna said, in an oddly welcoming fashion.

Catching her off guard with such an odd salutation, Jamie found her footing and barked, “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Lorna blinked, guileless.

Cliff piped up. “The necklace, the Golden Cobra. We know you were behind it. The whole thing. Duncan. Melvyn Ott. Even Amber. We know it all.”

Lorna chuckled lightly. “Ah, you’ve got it all figured out, have you?”

Jamie fumed. “The only thing we don’t know is why.”

Lorna looked at her watch, then back at them and said, “I must say I am impressed that you’re here.” She moved over to the cooler, where she got a bottle of water for herself and a bottle of champagne. “Should we do a toast?”

“A toast to what?”