Chapter 4 - Eight Million DollarsBy noon, Northstar had a crisis.
By one o'clock, Preston Vale had one too.
I didn't care about either.
I cared about getting Mia to California.
That should have been simple.
Instead, our names were scrolling across television screens mounted throughout the terminal.
Northstar placed security outside the conference room—not to keep me in, they insisted, but to keep reporters out.
Passengers from Flight 307 had begun posting their videos.
Each angle made the story worse.
One showed Mia presenting her boarding pass before being told she had to move.
Another captured Vale saying, “Children don't need first class.”
A third showed the supervisor reaching for Laura's carrier after I clearly said, “Do not touch that.”
The worst showed the bag falling.
You couldn't see the urn break.
You could hear it.
Then Mia screamed.
I couldn't watch more than once.
Mia shouldn't have watched at all.
I took the phone from her.
“No more.”
“But that's me.”
“I know.”
“Why are people saying nice things?”
“Because they feel bad.”
“Why are other people saying I'm spoiled?”
That made me stop.
“Who said that?”
She pointed at a comment.
I deleted the app.
“Strangers don't get votes on who you are.”
Laura used to say something similar.
Never rent space in your head to people who won't even help with the mortgage.
I heard her constantly now.
A sentence at the grocery store.
A laugh in a hallway.
The smell of shampoo on Mia's hair.
Grief was cruel that way.
It kept giving pieces back just long enough to remind you the whole person was gone.
At 1:17, Northstar's chief operating officer entered.
Her name was Catherine Brooks.
No entourage.
No attorneys visible.
Mid-fifties.
Gray suit.
She sat across from me.
“Colonel Reed.”
“Evan.”
“Evan.”
She looked at Mia.
“And Mia.”
Mia didn't answer.
Catherine didn't force it.
“I watched every video we have.”
“Then you know.”
“I know enough to tell you Northstar failed both of you.”
That was more direct than I expected.
She continued.
“The employee who physically handled your wife's remains has been removed from duty pending investigation.”
“She didn't know what was in the bag.”
“You told her not to touch it.”
“Yes.”
“That should have been enough.”
I studied her.
Corporate people were trained to sound human in disasters.
Catherine sounded tired instead.
“Why were our seats reassigned?”
She didn't dodge.
“Because Mr. Vale belongs to our invitation-only executive travel program.”
“And?”
“And someone approved a seat override that should never have been approved.”
“Someone?”
“An employee in VIP Services.”
“On their own?”
Her silence gave the answer.
“No,” she admitted. “There was pressure.”
“From Vale?”
“From his office and from people inside Northstar who were concerned about losing his account.”
“Eight million dollars.”
She blinked.
“You know.”
“He announced it.”
Catherine looked embarrassed.
“Yes.”
“So eight million dollars buys somebody else's seat.”
“No.”
“It did today.”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised me.
No defense.
No slogan.
Just yes.
She placed a folder on the table.
“I can get you to San Diego this afternoon on another aircraft. Private cabin. No cost. Ground transport when you arrive. Whatever arrangements you need for your wife's remains.”
Mia looked at me.
I knew what she was thinking.
A private cabin sounded safe.
I shook my head.
“I don't want special treatment because the story got embarrassing.”
“It's not special treatment.”
“It is.”
“Then consider it damage control.”
I stared at her.
Catherine gave a tired half-smile.
“At least we're being honest.”
I almost respected her for that.
“What I want,” I said, “is two seats together on a normal flight.”
“You'll have them.”
“And Laura stays with us.”
“Absolutely.”
“And nobody touches her without asking.”
“I'll put it in writing.”
Mia finally spoke.
“Can Mommy have a seat?”
Catherine looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“We had two seats.”
She pointed to herself and me.
“But Mommy was under Daddy's seat.”
She thought for a moment.
“Can she sit by the window now?”
I swallowed hard.
Catherine didn't laugh.
Didn't tell her ashes weren't a passenger.
She just nodded.
“We can do that.”
Mia looked at me.
“Three seats?”
I could barely answer.
“Three seats.”
Catherine stood.
“Done.”
After she left, Aaron came back.
“You realize you just cost Northstar three first-class seats.”
“I think they'll survive.”
He laughed.
Then his phone buzzed.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Vale's asking to speak with you.”
“No.”
“He says privately.”
“No.”
“He offered to reimburse the trip.”
I stared at him.
Aaron raised both hands.
“I know.”
“How much?”
He checked.
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was grotesque.
“My wife is not an invoice.”
“I'll tell him.”
“Tell him nothing.”
Aaron nodded.
But Preston Vale didn't give up.
Twenty minutes later, his attorney appeared outside our room.
Officer Ruiz blocked him.
The attorney asked politely.
Then firmly.
Then threatened litigation.
Ruiz still didn't move.
Finally the attorney slid an envelope beneath the door.
I opened it.
Inside was a typed statement.
A confidentiality agreement.
Vale would provide $250,000 in exchange for mutual non-disparagement and removal of any video or public comments attributable to my family.
Mia watched me read.
“What's that?”
“A man trying to make a problem disappear.”
“Can he?”
I tore the document in half.
“No.”
Then again.
“No.”
Then again.
Mia smiled.
Laura would have too.
I handed the pieces to Aaron.
“Recycle those.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don't call me sir.”
“Old habit.”
A knock came from the hall.
Officer Ruiz entered.
His expression was different.
Serious.
“We have identified who made the security report.”
I sat straighter.
“Who?”
“Vale's executive assistant.”
“On his own?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“No.”
“Then who told him to?”
He glanced toward Mia.
Then back at me.
“We recovered a voice message from the assistant's phone.”
Aaron frowned.
“Already?”
“He volunteered it after Vale's attorney suggested the assistant acted independently.”
That sounded like Vale.
Ruiz pressed play.
Preston's voice filled the room.
Cold.
Impatient.
“Call whoever you need to call. Tell security the father is unstable if that's what gets him off the aircraft. I am not sitting in 3D.”
The recording ended.
Mia looked at me.
“What's unstable?”
I didn't answer.
Aaron did.
“Something you're definitely not.”
Ruiz exhaled.
“This changes things.”
“How much?”
“Potentially a lot.”
Before I could ask, shouting erupted outside.
Preston Vale's voice.
“I want my phone back!”
Officer Ruiz moved toward the door.
Another officer responded sharply.
Then came the sentence that traveled straight through the wall.
“Mr. Vale, you are not under arrest, but you are being detained while we determine whether a criminal false-report statute applies.”
Mia's eyes widened.
“Is the rich man going to jail?”
I looked at the door.
“I don't know.”
She thought about it.
Then asked quietly:
“Does being rich mean nobody tells you no?”
I looked at my daughter.
“No, sweetheart.”
May you like
Outside, Preston Vale shouted again.
And for the first time that day, I heard several people tell him exactly that.
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