Page 38 of Witness Security Breach

As the middle-aged man’s gaze lifted to Aiden, Charlie stepped to the side and tripped.

The lid of her cup flew off. Soda splashed on the floor, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Darn it,” she said. “I’m sorry about the mess. I really wanted to finish that, too.”

“It’s all right, miss. We’ll get it cleaned up. You were going to have to toss that anyway before you got through security.” He scribbled on Aiden’s ticket and handed it to him along with the license and then gestured for them to move on. “Watch your step, please.”

Clearing the rest of security was a breeze. They put their badges discreetly in the plastic tray along with their communication devices, the flash drive, shoes and the cell phone.

If they had been traveling on official business, they would have had their sidearms, gone to the head of the line and then through a side door.

As regular joes, they each took a turn in the security hoop, hands raised, boots off.

On the other side, they finished lacing up their boots and headed to the gate. It was fairly empty. The majority of passengers taking the flight had already boarded.

“Where are you seated?” she asked.

“Row twenty-three. Aisle. You?”

“Ten. Window. I’ll talk to a flight attendant and see if she can get someone to switch.”

The cell phone rang. Aiden took it out. “Nick’s number.”

“Good thing he called before we got on.”

Their plane was going to land late in the Louis Armstrong Airport, after eleven.

He hit the answer button. “It’s Aiden.”

“Hey, man. I wish I was calling with better news.”

Aiden met Charlie’s gaze and shook his head. “Give me a sec.” He took her elbow and steered her off into a corner, out of anyone else’s earshot, and put the call on speaker. “Go ahead. We can both hear you.”

Charlie paced in front of him, her hands on her hips.

“I’ve got details about the eyewitness,” Nick said. “He was supposedly hiking at Mission Trail Park. As he was leaving, going south on Mission Gorge Road, headed back to a friend’s house, where he was staying while on vacation, he claims he saw Yazzie shoot Torres and Killinger take out the cop.”

“Vacation?” Aiden asked. “If he’s not from San Diego, where does he live?”

“New Orleans,” Nick said.

That jarred Charlie to a stop. “Are you kidding me?”

“Albatross is from New Orleans. You said yourself he has a powerful enemy there, a mobster who wants him dead,” Aiden said. “Doesn’t anyone find that the least bit suspicious?”

“The man has half a dozen powerful enemies from Houston to Biloxi. The eyewitness’s friend, his reason for being in San Diego, checks out, and the time of his 911 call fits the time of the incident. So far his story is so airtight it can’t breathe.”

Charlie muttered a curse. “Albatross said the person who had the biggest ax to grind with him was a guy back home.”

“Do you have proof? Or is it just hearsay? Speculation?” Nick sighed. “Listen, no one is going to take your word. Everyone believes the eyewitness lock, stock and barrel,” Nick said with grim resignation. “From the police chief to Draper, who, by the way, has thrown you two to the wolves. It doesn’t look good. The witness is hanging around San Diego for any follow-up questions and plans to leave tomorrow, seven p.m. flight back to New Orleans.”

“What about the dead cop’s body-worn camera?” Aiden asked.

“The BWC was no help. There was too much smoke and his car door obstructed most of the video. The audio does nothing to clear you. I’m sorry the news isn’t better, but I’m rooting for you guys.”

“We’re being set up,” Charlie said. “Why is everyone so quick to dismiss our track record and believe this witness? What is he? A priest?”

“No. He’s a cop.”