Chapter 2 - WHAT ABIGAIL SAW
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Theodore was still warm against my chest, his tiny fingers curled around the edge of my nursing cover.
But my eyes stayed fixed on the aisle where Brenda had disappeared.
The flight attendant was speaking to her near the front of the cabin.
Brenda kept shaking her head.
She looked frightened.
Not embarrassed.
Not angry.
Frightened.
I turned toward Abigail.
“What did you show her?”
Abigail looked at me carefully.
“Can we wait until the lady comes back?”
“Abby…”
“I don't want everyone to hear.”
Her voice was quiet.
That was what scared me.
My daughter wasn't a dramatic child.
She didn't enjoy attention.
She didn't invent stories.
At eight years old, Abigail was the kind of little girl who still apologized when someone else bumped into her.
So whatever she had shown Brenda mattered.
I glanced toward the front again.
Brenda was speaking rapidly to the flight attendant.
Then she looked back at us.
Our eyes met.
She immediately looked away.
A minute later, the flight attendant approached.
“Ma'am?”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“I'm sorry for the disturbance.”
I nodded.
“Is she okay?”
The flight attendant hesitated.
“She says she needs to speak with the captain.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“I don't know exactly.”
The flight attendant looked toward Abigail.
“Your daughter may be able to explain.”
Abigail lowered her tablet.
“I found her name.”
The flight attendant blinked.
“What?”
Abigail looked at me.
“Mom, can I tell her?”
I nodded.
Abigail turned toward the flight attendant.
“I searched the passenger list.”
The woman looked confused.
“How?”
Abigail lifted her tablet.
“Mom gave me the travel app when we checked in. I was looking at the seat map.”
She tapped the screen.
“Her name is Brenda Cole.”
The flight attendant's expression changed.
“Yes.”
“I searched the name.”
I felt a chill.
“Abigail, why did you search her?”
“Because she was being mean to you.”
There was no accusation in her voice.
Just a simple statement.
Then she looked at the flight attendant.
“The woman beside Mom is on a missing-person website.”
The flight attendant froze.
“What?”
Abigail turned the tablet around.
There was a photograph.
A younger woman.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
Brenda.
But beneath the photograph was a headline.
MISSING WOMAN: EMILY COLE, AGE 24.
I stared at the screen.
My mouth went dry.
“Abigail…”
“She changed her name,” my daughter whispered.
The flight attendant crouched beside her.
“How did you find this?”
“Google.”
She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“I typed her name because she made Mom uncomfortable.”
I looked toward the front of the plane.
Brenda—or Emily—was still talking to the captain.
Then another flight attendant came toward us.
“Mrs. Miller?”
“Yes?”
“We need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did the woman beside you say anything about your family?”
I frowned.
“No.”
The flight attendant exchanged a glance with her colleague.
“She asked whether your husband's name was Samuel.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
She nodded.
“She asked earlier, before the baby woke up.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Why would she ask that?”
The flight attendant didn't know.
Neither did I.
Abigail looked up at me.
“Mom?”
I turned toward her.
“Did you know her?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I wasn't.
Not anymore.
The captain eventually came back.
He spoke quietly.
“Mrs. Miller, we have a situation.”
My hands tightened around Theodore.
“What kind of situation?”
“The woman traveling under the name Brenda Cole appears to have provided inconsistent identification.”
I looked toward the front.
“Is she dangerous?”
“We don't know.”
The captain's expression was serious.
“But she is frightened of something.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Because I knew what fear looked like.
I had been living with it since Samuel died.
“Can I speak to her?”
The captain hesitated.
“I don't recommend it.”
Before he could say anything else, Brenda appeared at the end of the aisle.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes were wet.
She looked at me.
Then at Abigail.
“Please.”
It was barely a whisper.
“Don't show anyone else that photograph.”
Abigail stared at her.
“Why?”
Brenda swallowed.
“Because I don't want to disappear again.”
My heart began pounding.
“What does that mean?”
Brenda looked at me.
“I knew your husband.”
Everything inside me went still.
“You knew Samuel?”
She nodded.
“Not the way you think.”
“What way?”
She looked around the cabin.
Then toward the captain.
“I need to tell you before we land.”
The captain frowned.
“Tell her what?”
Brenda looked directly at me.
“Samuel wasn't alone the night he died.”
I couldn't breathe.
Theodore stirred against my chest.
I held him tighter.
“What are you talking about?”
Brenda opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Her eyes shifted toward the window.
“Someone is watching this plane.”
The captain immediately turned.
“What?”
Brenda's voice dropped.
“Not someone on the plane.”
She looked at me.
“Someone who was waiting for me to find you.”
Then she reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a small silver object.
A man's watch.
I recognized it instantly.
My father's face flashed through my mind.
Then I looked closer.
It wasn't my father's.
It was Samuel's.
The watch I had buried with him.
The watch I had watched the funeral director place inside the coffin.
My hands began shaking.
May you like
Brenda whispered,
“He gave this to me the night before he died.”
