Chapter 11 - What Valery Kept

Daniel stopped talking to me after that.

He sat at the far end of the cabin, phone in hand, typing messages that seemed to get shorter and faster.

Valery sat beside me.

“I have something,” she said.

From her uniform pocket, she pulled out a tiny folded piece of paper.

Old. Soft at the edges.

“I’ve carried this for twelve years.”

I unfolded it.

Three account numbers were written in blue ink.

Under them: A.C.C. / N.H. / B.C. Route.

“Alder Crest Consulting,” I said.

She nodded.

“Northline Holdings,” I added.

Another nod.

“What is B.C. Route?”

“I never knew.”

Vancouver.

British Columbia.

My pulse sped up.

Valery pointed to the handwriting.

“That’s his.”

Daniel looked up from the other end of the cabin.

He knew we were talking about him.

“What happened after he left?” I asked.

“My mother lost the company. She spent years fighting the bank, trying to prove the transfers were fraud. They blamed weak internal controls. She sold her house to cover payroll. She got sick two years later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She wasn’t perfect. But she didn’t deserve that.”

Valery’s voice tightened.

“Neither do you.”

I looked down at the paper.

“Why become a flight attendant?”

A sad smile.

“I was already training for cabin service when I met him. After everything fell apart, flying was the only part of my old life that still felt like mine.”

Daniel suddenly stood.

“I need my suitcase from the rear.”

“It’s beside you,” I said.

He glanced down.

For the first time, he looked confused.

Then I realized what he meant.

There was another bag.

Valery looked at me.

She had the same realization.

“What rear suitcase?” she asked.

Daniel didn’t answer.

Valery opened the storage compartment behind the galley.

A second black case sat inside.

Same brand.

Same size.

But this one had a bright red baggage tag.

The name on it read: ADAM BLAKE.

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The red tag included a handwritten mobile number. Valery read the last four digits aloud. I knew them. They matched the prepaid phone number I had once found on a restaurant receipt in Daniel’s jacket. He had told me it belonged to a contractor. I had believed him because believing him had been easier than imagining a second life. Now the second life was sitting in a luggage compartment at thirty thousand feet.

Private Jet Story - 20 Chapters