Chapter 25 - Northbound
Caldwell’s fake identity was discovered twenty-seven minutes after analysts enhanced the airport reflection.
Daniel Hart.
Canadian passport.
Business-class ticket.
Portland to Anchorage.
Then Anchorage to Fairbanks.
From there?
Unknown.
The flight had departed two hours earlier.
Alaska authorities were alerted.
Caldwell would be arrested when he landed.
Simple.
Except he never got off the plane.
Passenger records showed Daniel Hart boarded.
Flight attendants remembered him.
Security footage showed him entering the aircraft.
But when officers searched after landing, Caldwell was gone.
Impossible.
Until maintenance staff discovered a service panel near the rear galley had been tampered with during a twenty-minute refueling stop in Juneau.
The aircraft door had opened for catering.
Caldwell walked off disguised as ground crew.
By the time anyone realized, he was hours ahead.
“Man plans everything,” Morales said.
“Not everything.”
She glanced at me.
“Liam?”
“Exactly.”
Juneau police searched hotels, ferry terminals, marinas.
Nothing.
Then a stolen fishing boat was reported.
Caldwell was heading toward Canada.
Again.
This time through cold coastal waters.
Federal aircraft searched.
Weather deteriorated.
Rain.
Fog.
High winds.
A perfect environment to disappear.
For two days, nothing.
Then wreckage washed ashore.
A piece of the stolen boat.
No body.
News outlets immediately speculated Caldwell had died at sea.
I didn’t believe it.
Neither did Morales.
“Katherine?”
“Definitely doesn’t believe it.”
Clara and Liam returned to Spokane under continued security.
I visited them once federal investigators allowed it.
The moment Liam saw me, he ran across the living room and nearly knocked me backward.
“You got her.”
I hugged him.
“We got her.”
Clara stood behind him.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t owe me that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
I looked at Liam.
“He gave us the clue that found you.”
Clara stared down at her son.
“You did?”
He shrugged.
“I remembered the bridge.”
Clara hugged him.
For once, Liam looked exactly like what he was.
A kid.
No secrets.
No fear.
Just embarrassed because his mother was squeezing him too hard.
That evening, we ate pizza.
No officers talking into radios.
No evidence bags.
No interviews.
For two hours, life felt normal.
Then Liam disappeared into his bedroom and returned holding something.
A small key.
Silver.
Red string attached.
The same key that had opened Gregory’s filing cabinet months earlier.
My chest tightened.
“I thought police had that.”
“They gave it back after the trial people copied everything.”
“Why keep it?”
Liam stared at it.
“I don’t want it anymore.”
He placed it in my hand.
“You take it.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Throw it away.”
I closed my fingers around the key.
“Okay.”
His expression relaxed.
Later that night, I stood outside near Clara’s porch.
She joined me.
“You really going to throw it away?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She watched the quiet street.
“Liam asked me something yesterday.”
“What?”
“If you were family.”
I looked toward her.
“What did you say?”
“I told him families come in different ways.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
Then Clara smiled.
“He said that sounded like a yes.”
I laughed quietly.
“He’s smart.”
“Too smart.”
My phone rang.
Morales.
The normal evening disappeared.
“We found Caldwell.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Not where you think.”
“Just tell me.”
Her voice hardened.
“He never went to Canada.”
“What?”
“The stolen boat was staged.”
“Then where is he?”
“Portland.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Why would he come back?”
“Because there’s one person left he wants.”
“Katherine?”
“No.”
May you like
A pause.
“Anna.”
