“Elias.”
“Marcus.”
He glanced at my jacket.
“I heard the morning became complicated.”
“That is one description.”
He sat in the empty seat across from me.
“We located Daniel.”
“Where?”
“At an airport hotel.”
“Was he leaving?”
“We believe so.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“He had a reservation under another name for a flight leaving this afternoon.”
That detail confirmed intent more clearly than anything else.
“Has he been detained?”
“He is being interviewed.”
“What was on the storage media?”
“We do not know yet.”
“Do not open anything outside the forensic lab.”
“Already ordered.”
I nodded.
Marcus looked toward the front galley.
“Sarah is cooperating.”
“That was fast.”
“She understands Daniel used her.”
I glanced toward the scattered pearls.
“She also used everyone on this aircraft.”
Marcus nodded.
“That will matter.”
It should.
A positive ending did not require pretending nobody had done anything wrong.
Consequences mattered.
Without them, relief became denial.
Marcus continued.
“The aircraft will not depart.”
Several passengers overheard him.
Groans moved through the cabin.
He raised a hand.
“A replacement aircraft is being arranged.”
Someone called, “How long?”
Marcus looked toward the attendant.
She answered.
“Operations is working on it now.”
A passenger behind me said, “Take your time.”
Several people agreed.
That surprised me.
Travelers hated delays.
But priorities changed quickly when uncertainty entered a cockpit.
Marcus looked at me.
“I need a formal statement.”
“Of course.”
“And your device records.”
“You will have them.”
He studied me.
“You noticed Sarah watching the cockpit?”
“Yes.”
“That was what triggered this?”
“That and her desperation.”
Marcus leaned back.
“Most people would have focused on the coffee.”
“She wanted me to.”
He nodded slowly.
“That may have prevented her plan from working.”
I looked toward the window.
“No.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Her mistake prevented it.”
“What mistake?”
“She stayed too controlled.”
He smiled slightly.
“You thought she was acting.”
“I thought she was accomplishing something.”
Those were different ideas.
Anger could be genuine while still serving a purpose.
Sarah might truly have disliked me.
She might genuinely have believed I did not belong near her.
None of that changed the deeper motive.
She had weaponized those feelings to remove an obstacle.
That obstacle happened to be me.
Two hours later, passengers were taken off the aircraft individually.
Security officers collected contact information and requested copies of relevant recordings.
Nobody complained.
The terminal outside had become crowded.
Rumors traveled faster than official statements.
People pointed when I entered the gate area.
I hated that part.
Attention was useful in boardrooms.
In airports, it became noise.
I found an empty chair near the windows.
My jacket was sealed inside an evidence bag because coffee residue might establish part of the timeline.
I wore a spare shirt provided by an operations manager.
It was one size too large.
For once, I did not care.
The flight attendant approached.
Her name badge read OLIVIA PARKER.
“Mr. Thorne?”
“Elias is fine.”
She sat two chairs away.
“Sarah asked whether she could speak with you.”
I looked toward the security office.
“Why?”
“She did not say.”
“You think I should?”
Olivia considered the question.
“I think she finally understands what she did.”
“That was not my question.”
Olivia smiled faintly.
“No.”
She looked toward the office.
“I think you should only speak with her if you want answers.”
That was fair.
I did want one answer.
I stood.
The interview room was small.
Sarah sat at a table with an officer nearby.
Her necklace was gone.
Without the pearls, she looked different.
Not smaller.
Just ordinary.
She stood when I entered.
“I did not expect you to come.”
“You asked.”
She nodded.
I remained near the door.
Sarah looked at my shirt.
“I ruined your jacket.”
“That is not the problem.”
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “Daniel told me you destroyed people.”
I almost smiled.
“Did he?”
“He said you collected information until nobody could fight back.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“He hated you.”
“I barely knew him.”
Sarah laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“I know that now.”
She rubbed her wrist.
“He talked about you constantly.”
“Why?”