drop the box.”
“You did just fine.”
The pilot swallowed.
Then he asked a question that made my stomach tighten.
“Does your daughter know?”
“Know what?” I demanded.
Dad immediately straightened.
“Not here, Michael.”
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
But the businessman had returned to the entrance of the jet bridge.
He was staring at the wings.
Suddenly, his face lost all its color.
“Wait,” he said. “What’s the number engraved on those?”
Nobody answered.
“Is it 417?”
Dad closed his fingers around the keychain.
The businessman immediately pulled
