Page 6 of Final Approach

And for what?

Andrew sat in the chair opposite the silent prisoner, who refused to look up. “All right, Mr. Brown,” Andrew said, “we’d like to hear your story.”

The words were soft, compassionate, curious. Kristine had never worked a case with Andrew or Nathan, so she was interested in their approach.

Nathan started to say something and Andrew shook his head. Nathan snapped his lips shut, leaned a shoulder against the wall, and crossed his arms.

Mr. Brown didn’t move.

Kristine followed Nathan’s example and stayed silent. But she really wanted to know why she was here and not almost to Key West.

“Mr. Brown?” Andrew pushed. “I have a feeling you didn’t want to hijack that plane today. I’d really like to know what compelled you to do so.”

Now the man lifted his head and looked Andrew in the eyes. “It’s Marcus.”

“All right, Marcus. I’m listening.”

“I’m dying.”

Kristine raised a brow, then bit her lip. Sometimes it was better to stay silent than prompt the suspect to keep talking.

“If you mean you’re literally dying, then I’m sorry to hear that,” Andrew said.

“That’s what I mean.” A pause. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Marcus blurted, his brown eyes confused, brow furrowed. “I just did something I never would have thought I’d do. Ever. And Idid it for money. You should be yelling at me, beating me to a pulp, whatever. But you shouldn’t be nice to me.”

“You did it to pay for medical bills?” Nathan asked.

Marcus slumped and shook his head. “To leave for my family.” He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest once more. “I was diagnosed about ten weeks ago. We’re broke. Once I’m gone, my family will have nothing.”

“What about your wife?” Andrew asked. “She can’t work?”

“She cleans hotel rooms. We have six kids, a mortgage, and no family. We both grew up in the foster system, and while we’ve worked hard and built a good life, it’s still a hard one with both of us employed. There’s no way she can support them by herself.” Tears tracked his cheeks. “We wanted better for them,” he choked out. “So when a man approached and asked me if I wanted to earn some money, but it would require great sacrifice, I said yes.”

“Who?” Kristine asked. She glanced at Andrew, who gave a slight nod.

He looked at her. “I don’t know. It’s not like he gave me his name. Just handed me an envelope with fifty thousand dollars in it and said there was another one of those envelopes for my family if I did what he wanted me to do. But there were all of you law enforcement people on the plane.” He laughed without humor. “Of course there would be a whole SWAT team on there.” He glanced at Kristine. “And an air marshal.” He heaved a sigh, then coughed. And coughed. His face turned red and he finally wheezed to a strangled croak.

Kristine rose. “I’ll get medical help.”

But he raised a hand, and she paused. When he caught his breath, he shook his head. “It passes,” he finally managed to say. “Although it’s taking longer and longer. Back to the fact that there was an entire police force on the flight—I should have known.”

“Just a few of us are from SWAT,” Andrew said with a straight face, “but you met this guy who paid you in person?”

“Yes.”

“So you can work with a sketch artist and give us a description.”

“Not really. He kept a baseball cap on, wore sunglasses and a surgical mask.” He swallowed. “I know I’m in trouble, but I didn’t think I’d survive.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged.

“What exactly were you supposed to do once you got into the cockpit?”

“Demand the pilot take me to a different airport.”

Andrew exchanged a look with Kristine, and Nathan leaned forward. “Which one?”