Molly heard the toast through the galley curtain. She looked toward Miles, now placed on the floor near an empty aft service area while Brand watched him. The man she had watched respectfully alert the crew about an overhead bin was being treated as a danger nobody had bothered to identify. She remembered the captain's announcement and wondered how many people were applauding simply because they needed to believe somebody knew what they were doing.
Trent visited the aft cabin a few minutes later and stood over Miles with his arms folded. "Comfortable back here?" he asked. "This is where you belong, my friend."
Miles lifted his eyes. "The security alert never described me. You know that."
"And when the police meet you in Phoenix, who do you think they'll believe?" Trent crouched just enough to make the threat private, then smiled. "Nobody believes the guy in zip ties. Nobody ever has."
Miles held his gaze until Trent looked away. He was frightened now, not only for himself. Somewhere among the 186 people aboard was the source of a warning that had not been resolved, and the cabin had spent precious minutes celebrating the removal of a man selected for his appearance. He could not stop thinking about the disturbed compartment beneath 21C, or about the man who had been so politely adjusting his shoe.
His professional life had taught him that the worst failures often began with the moment everyone decided the hard question had already been answered. Molly waited until Trent returned to the forward galley before kneeling beside Miles. The aisle lights were dimmed, and most passengers were trying to convince themselves the crisis had passed. She brought a paper cup of water, set it near his knee, and examined the nylon restraint around his wrists. She could see where it was pressing against the skin, and she looked toward Brand as though asking permission to treat a person the way she would have treated any traveler injured in her cabin.
"He's not going anywhere," Brand said. "Just make sure he stays quiet."
Molly bent closer. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I don't think any of this is right. I really don't."
Miles drew a careful breath. "Thank you. What's your name?"
"Molly. Molly Fenwick." Her eyes glistened. "I told Trent we hadn't been given a description. He said it wasn't our job to question the captain."
"You did question him," Miles said. "That's important. Please remember what you said and when you said it."
"He put your grandfather's badge in the galley drawer," she added. "He wouldn't give it back. I could lose my job for telling you that."
"I know." Miles looked at the fear in her face and heard his grandfather's voice telling him that everyone aboard a train deserved to reach the end of the line safely. "You're braver than anyone on this plane right now, Molly. Not because you aren't frightened, but because you're telling the truth anyway."
She glanced toward the curtain again. "What can I do?"
"I need one phone call. And I need the crew to check something without causing a panic." He lowered his voice.