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sheepish as he realized it probably wasn’t a good thing to point out that she was doomed. He looked at the boarding passes. “Sweet. Wish I was headed that way.”
    “Can I have them?”
    “Sure.” He handed them over along with her change.
    “Thanks.” She pocketed the money, folded the passes, and didn’t bother to look at him when she said: “And that’s not my life line. It’s my heart line. One true love.”
    “Yeah? Well, good luck with that,” he snorted.
    She left with a scowl on her face, striding through the crowded café full of people no older than her, people who didn’t have a care in the world, who thought love was sex and sex was worth something. She knew better. Real love took over your soul, it guided your life, and it fed on your heart and mind until all you could see was the person you loved. When you were in the grips of true love, nothing else mattered. She had been taught about true love by an expert.
    She pushed through the door and left behind the smell of coffee, the sound of conversation, the clicking of computers and hurried on through the cold night knowing that she would only feel safe when they were back home again – or at least back to the place where they started – and that was just plain sad.
     
    ***
     
    Josie grabbed the case and swung it onto the bed. It was light and cheap. The zipper jammed when she started to open it. Working her finger through the opening, Josie felt the fray of lining fabric that had caught on the teeth. Patiently, she worked it free until the zipper gave.
    Inside, neatly folded, were clothes held tight by a strap. The plastic buckle unsnapped easily and Josie lifted out each piece as she found it: a man’s T-shirt, clean but worn thin, two pairs of men’s underwear, a woman’s long sleeved T-shirt. She held it up and knew instantly it wasn’t Hannah’s. This one was medium and Hannah wore small. This one was the color of sherbet, cheaply screen-printed with a riot of flowers and fruits. Hannah wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Josie left it on the bed and pulled the rest of the clothes out of the suitcase: a plain bra and equally plain panties. Josie put the clothes back as she found them. The list of what she knew was getting longer than what she didn’t.
    She knew that Ian Francis was not a citizen of D.C. or he wouldn’t need a hotel room or a suitcase. Ian Francis had not traveled here alone unless he was fond of women’s clothes. And, finally, Josie knew that Ian Francis and the woman he traveled with must be wearing almost everything they brought with them because it was cold outside and the case was nearly empty.
    She clicked the buckle back in place, flipped the top up, and unzipped the outer pocket. Empty. Still, she felt she was coming up short. Ian Francis was fond of puzzles, hidden things, cyphers and it was up to her to figure this out. Josie opened the case again and this time ran her hands around the sides stopping when she found something deep in the lining. Pushing her hand inside she found a map of D.C. The Russell Building and the Capitol Building were circled, the metro stops marked. She tossed it aside and reached into the pocket again. This time she came up with gold: four small bags of the same white powder Ian Francis pressed upon her. These had markings, too, but the codes were different than the one in her bag.
    Cupping her palm, she swiveled to hold them up to the weak light only to stop mid-turn. Slowly, her fingers curled around the packets and her hand fell to her side.
    “Hello,” said the man standing at the foot of the bed.
     

 
    “Hey, Archer, what’s shakin?” – Burt
    “Josie thinks she’s got a bead on Hannah.”- Archer
    “No kidding? That would be a helluva thing finding her half way across the country. Sit down. I’ll get you some chow. How about a beer?” – Burt
    “Just the food. Jo’s taking the red eye. I’ve got to pick her up.” – Archer
    “It’ll be good to have her home.