Why?”
“Because Claire booked the seat beside mine days before Adrian moved flights.”
“Maybe she wanted to talk to you.”
“That’s what I keep thinking.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.”
Marisol became quiet.
Then she asked, “What if Adrian wasn’t supposed to meet you?”
I frowned.
“That’s what the note suggests.”
“No.”
She leaned forward.
“What if nobody cared whether you met Adrian?”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“What if the important person was Claire?”
I thought of the empty seat.
The stranger who should have been beside me.
The assistant who disappeared.
“Claire was supposed to sit next to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s the question.”
I stood and crossed to the window.
Outside, Houston moved beneath a pale blue sky.
Ordinary traffic.
Ordinary people.
Thousands of lives continuing while mine seemed to have developed hidden doors.
My phone rang.
Ethan.
Marisol saw the name.
“You want
