The plane is outside the private hangar where Shaw said it would be. The two pilots, Sean and Tyler, are standing on the tarmac when I pull up on my bike. They introduce themselves politely and ask to take my duffel, which they will stow in the cabin, then point to where I can park my bike. I go inside the hangar to check in, which consists of me showing my Alice James passport to a sallow-faced guy behind a desk and promising that I am not carrying anything explosive or illegal in my luggage, which is mostly true. I climb up the airstairs, the day’s events starting to catch up to me. It feels less like being hit by a wave and more like standing in the water while the tide is rushing out, threatening to pull me along with it.

When I step onto the plane, I see an enormous man sitting in one of two forward-facing seats. For an instant my defenses light up, and then I realize who the other passenger is. “Gus!”

“Hey, Miss Faulkner,” he says. His eyes are blackened and there’s a band-aid over the bridge of his nose, not to mention a line of stitches like a black centipede across the top of his bald head, but his crooked smile is warm and genuine. Then his smile falters. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re cryin’.”

I touch my face and it’s wet. I wipe my cheeks with back of my hand. “Sorry, just … I’m glad you’re okay, is all. It’s been kind of a shitty day, and seeing you is the best part.”

“I don’t know about that, but I hear you on the shitty day part. Don’t ever let someone stick a knife in your chest, Miss Faulkner.”

“Good advice.” Part of me wants to hug him but it would be awkward, not just because he’s still sitting. Then I see how stiffly he’s holding himself in his seat and know he wouldn’t welcome a hug right now, so I plop down in the seat next to his and give him a smile instead. “And you need to start calling me Suzie.”

“Yeah, okay.” His crooked smile is back. “Suzie.” He considers the sound of my name in his mouth. “Feels a little weird.”

“I’m a little weird, so that makes sense.”

He starts to chuckle, then winces. “Don’t make me laugh, Miss—Suzie. Hurts.”

“What are you doing on the plane? I thought you were in the hospital.”

Gus’s face folds into a frown. “I hate hospitals. Give me the creeps. My sister lives in Detroit, and when I told Mr. Shaw I thought I’d go visit her, he and Mr. Gutierrez said I could catch a ride with you.”

I look him straight in the eye. “You aren’t here to babysit me?”