“I will be right outside that glass door,” I said, pointing to the thick pane of smart-glass.

“I promise.”

She gave a small, solemn nod.

Owen did not look up, but he let go of his sister’s hand for a second to clutch his bear tighter.

I stood up, my chest aching, and walked out to join Ryker.

He was standing ten feet from the jet bridge door.

The corridor was quiet, blocked off by three airport police officers in blue uniforms.

Through the large windows, I saw the massive commercial aircraft taxiing back toward the terminal.

Its jet engines whined as they began to power down.

The rain began to pelt against the thick glass of the terminal windows.

Outside, the airport lights reflected off the wet tarmac in long, blurry streaks of yellow and red.

I could hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

Inside, the air felt thin and cold.

Ryker did not move.

He stood like a statue, his eyes locked on the jet bridge door.

“She has two bank accounts in Switzerland,” Marco murmured, walking up behind us.