Maggie suggested they turn on the TV. She wanted some background noise as long as that noise didn’t include news alerts or footage of her chase scene or interviews with neighbors who knew Chad or Tyler. Nick handled the assignment by stopping at a channel that was playing Christmas movies all weekend to celebrate the beginning of the holiday season.

“One of my favorites,” he said, causing Maggie look up long enough to identify Ralphie in A Christmas Story. Why was she not surprised that a movie about a little boy wanting a Red Rider BB gun was Nick Morrelli’s favorite.

They had an hour until they met Kunze and Wurth downstairs. Maggie still hoped to find something, anything that might steer them in the right direction. While she and Nick sifted through court documents and FBI files online she kept trying to put some rhyme or reason to the Project Manager’s choice of airport.

Nick had made a good point about the impact of the attack. The number of casualties may not be his priority. Was he more interested in the effect on the American psyche? A crowded shopping center in the middle of the country the day after Thanksgiving. That was something everyone could relate to, making it even more frightening because of that. It wasn’t a ritzy resort, a five-star hotel, a nightclub or casino. A shopping center in the heartland struck at the very heart of every single American who would be thinking, “That could have happened to me.”

Maggie brought up the list of airports on her computer screen, again. Was there something equally telling in which airport the Project Manager had chosen? The list—according to Henry Lee—hadn’t been written in any order:

McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, Nevada

General Mitchell International Airport, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Salt Lake City International Airport, Salt Lake City, Utah

Sky Harbor International Airport, Phoenix, Arizona

Cleveland-Hopkins International Airport, Cleveland, Ohio

Reagan Washington National Airport, Washington, D.C.

Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, Detroit, Michigan

“Believe it or not, Las Vegas is the number one busiest airport for the Thanksgiving weekend.” Nick interrupted her thoughts, glancing over at her computer screen.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“It’d be a pretty big impact.”

She considered it then shook her head. “I don’t think he chose Vegas.”

“Gut instinct?” Nick asked.

“Think about how you prefaced it with ‘believe it or not.’ It might be a reality, but not everyone would relate to choosing a gambling casino over Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. He’s hoping the impact here is the idea that it could happen to anyone.”

Nick pointed the remote at the TV and muted Ralphie right before he got a mouthful of Lava soap.

“What about another Midwest hit? Could he be looking for someplace close? Milwaukee’s about a five-or six-hour drive. Detroit’s a bit farther. Maybe ten hours.”

“Too difficult a drive in that snowstorm. My guess, he was at the airport and gone before they were putting the wounded in ambulances.”

“There were flight delays because of the snow,” Nick said. “Ceimo mentioned the state fire inspector was stuck in Chicago and Yarden’s supervisor was trying to get back from New Jersey.”

“How much in advance was this storm predicted?”

Nick furrowed his brow, giving it serious thought.

“They were talking about it early in the week,” Nick told her. “I only remember because I promised Christine I’d go with her to buy a Christmas tree on Friday. I was hoping the storm would make her cancel.” He shrugged.

“It’s a good day for college football.”

She nodded and smiled, remembering her own plans for Friday. Was that only yesterday?

“Anyway, the storm ended up missing Omaha. Do you think he factored in the snowstorm?”

Her turn to shrug.

“I’m looking at a logical process of elimination. How many of these airports are hubs for an airline?”

Nick leaned closer and took a look. Pointing with his index finger, he went over the list, one by one.

“Milwaukee is Midwest Airlines, Salt Lake City and Cleveland are Delta, Sky Harbor is Southwest and US Airways. Detroit was a limited hub for Northwest. Why? Are you thinking it might be a hub?”

“Actually I’m thinking the opposite. You said UAS has been trying to get airports to upgrade the arrival and departure areas, right? At an airport that’s a hub aren’t the majority of their passengers simply making a connecting flight?”

She caught the glint in his eyes as he followed her logic.

“So most passengers wouldn’t be going through the ticketing area or picking up baggage,” she continued.

“Not a big enough impact. And Reagan National on the Sunday after a holiday will be a good deal of politicians returning to Capitol Hill.”

“You just eliminated every airport on the list.”

“Both Las Vegas and Phoenix would be destination airports?” she asked, thinking out loud and not really expecting an answer from Nick. “Someplace where families would go for Thanksgiving for a treat to get away. Maybe get out of the winter cold.”

“I just remembered something,” he said. “Airports depend on state and federal revenues so we usually take that into consideration when we’re talking to them about upgrades. Phoenix is being considered for a chunk of federal dollars. Something to do with Homeland Security. The city’s number two in the world, second only to Mexico City, for kidnappings.”

Maggie remembered what Henry Lee said about his group influencing government policies.

“It has to be Phoenix.”

She hugged him, excited, relieved. She kissed his cheek, but his lips found hers. She let herself sink into him, maybe a moment too long. By the time she pulled away she was out of breath.

“Nick, this isn’t a good idea. We’re both exhausted.”

“I’m not that exhausted.”

He ran his hand over her shoulder, fingers caressing the back of her neck. His other hand wrapped around her waist, gently nudging her back against him, enough to show her he wasn’t too exhausted. His lips brushed her neck, her earlobe…maybe she wasn’t too exhausted either.

A knock at the door decided for them.

“Damn. Can’t we ignore it?” But he let her pull away. “Maybe it’s housekeeping?”

“Too early,” he said. “And room service doesn’t begin until 6:00 a.m. I checked.”

She crossed the room, instinctively reminding herself where she had left her Smith & Wesson.

When she checked the peephole she had to do a double take. She was exhausted. Was it possible her imagination was playing tricks on her?

She undid the locks and pulled the door wide open.

“Hi,” Patrick said, looking embarrassed and shy. His hair was tousled, clothes wrinkled.

“How in the world did you find me?” she asked him. “I used housekeeping’s direct line to the front desk. ‘Ms. O’Dell needs more towels. What room is she in?’” He said it with a convincing Spanish accent.

She didn’t say another word. Instead she followed her instinct this time and simply hugged him.