"Because I was afraid the seat would mean something."
That answer hurt more than I expected.
She had lived for decades with a question she was afraid to ask.
And I had thought she simply disliked airplanes.
The audio specialist entered just after midnight.
She carried headphones and a laptop.
"The tape is playable."
Grandma's hands folded tightly together.
"Is it Thomas?"
The specialist nodded.
"Yes."
Grandma closed her eyes.
Michael looked away.
The specialist placed the laptop on the table.
"There are two recordings."
Lena sat beside Grandma.
"We can stop at any time."
Grandma shook her head.
"Play it."
A burst of static filled the small speaker.
Then a man's voice.
Older than the grandfather I remembered.
But unmistakably him.
"My name is Thomas Walsh."
Grandma's breath caught.
I reached for her hand.
"It is eleven forty-eight p.m. on October seventeenth."
"Flight 611 returned to Gate 22 after a hydraulic warning."
"I reviewed the maintenance release after hearing two mechanics argue near the service corridor."
Static crackled.
Then Grandpa named three employees.
One of them was Walter Haines.
Lena leaned closer.
"He wasn't a mechanic," Michael whispered.
Grandpa continued.
"Haines told the maintenance supervisor the aircraft needed to be cleared before morning."
"The supervisor said the inspection had not been completed."
"Haines replied that the paperwork would say it had."
No one moved.
Then Grandpa said something that made Michael cover his mouth.
"Patrick Brennan heard the same conversation."
Michael closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
"Patrick wants me to go home and forget this."
"I can't."
"If this tape is found without me, the duplicate documents are in my flight bag."
"The second copy is with Evelyn."
Grandma whispered, "The wings."
Then Grandpa's voice changed.
Lower.
More urgent.
"Someone is outside the room."
There was a knock on the original recording.
Three slow knocks.
Then a man's voice in the distance.
"Tom, open the door."
Grandma went rigid.
Michael stared at the speaker.
"That's my father."
The recording ended.
The specialist looked at us.
"That's the first file."
Lena asked, "And the second?"
The specialist hesitated.
"It was recorded several hours later."
Grandma looked up.
"Play it."
Static filled the room again.
Then Grandpa's voice returned.
This time he sounded breathless.
"Evie, if you ever hear this, Patrick wasn't the one who betrayed me."
Michael's face collapsed.
Then the tape continued.
"It was someone I trusted more."
Security staff swept the office floor while we waited for the cassette to be processed.
Every door opening made me look up.
Grandma noticed.
"You're more nervous than I am."
"Someone followed us across Los Angeles."
"Yes."
"They took pictures through a government office door."
"Yes."
"You don't find that alarming?"
She considered it.
"I find it irritating."
I laughed despite myself.
"That's not the same thing."
"At my age, irritation is more useful than fear."
Then she reached into her purse and removed the old boarding pass.
"I was afraid of this for twenty-seven years."
She touched the seat number.
"Look where fear got me."
I sat beside her.
"You still got on the plane."
"Because you bought the ticket before asking me."
"So my terrible financial judgment saved the day."
"Don't get carried away."
The exchange lasted only seconds, but it gave both of us room to breathe.
Then the audio specialist entered with the cassette.
The humor vanished.
Grandma placed the boarding pass flat on the table.
"All right, Thomas," she whispered.
"I've finally taken the seat."
Then she nodded for the recording to begin.
Chapter 11 - THE SECOND VOICE
Grandpa's voice faded beneath a wash of static.
The specialist adjusted the playback level.
"There's damage here."
Grandma leaned toward the laptop.
"Keep going."
The audio cleared.
"Patrick tried to get me out through the employee lot."
Michael covered his face with both hands.
The years of shame he had carried for his father were changing in real time.
"We were followed."
A low mechanical sound filled the recording.
Perhaps a car engine.
Perhaps ventilation.
It was impossible to tell.
Then Grandpa continued.
"I gave Patrick the flight bag."
"I kept the cassette."
"We split up because I thought they were after the papers."
Grandma's fingers dug into my hand.
"I was wrong."
The recording crackled again.
"They were after me."
Nobody in the room breathed normally.
Then came another voice.
Faint.
Distant.
A man speaking outside wherever Grandpa was recording.
"Tom, don't make this worse."
Lena looked at the audio specialist.
"Can you isolate that?"
"Maybe."
She rewound five seconds and increased the gain.
The voice repeated.
"Tom, don't make this worse."
Grandma stood abruptly.
Her chair scraped backward.
"I know that voice."
Lena looked at her.
"Who is it?"
Grandma's face had gone pale.
"I need to hear it again."
The specialist replayed the line.
Grandma closed her eyes.
Then she whispered a name.
"Raymond Cole."
I frowned.
"Who's Raymond Cole?"
Grandma looked at me.
"Thomas's brother-in-law."
"My great-uncle Ray?"
"Yes."
I knew the name.