Garcia kept an eye on Tom’s body language and facial expressions. Since he had begun to relax, he had stayed that way, which was a very good sign. His answers also flowed spontaneously, with no hesitation, and weren’t preceded or followed by any sort of nervous telltale signs, which indicated that he wasn’t trying to hide anything.
If this killer really had directly approached Sharon Barnard prior to the murder night, it didn’t sound as though he had done it as a lover. Garcia decided to move away from this line of questioning.
‘And had she mentioned anything about anyone else she’d met recently?’ he asked. ‘Not a lover, or anyone trying to pick her up, but maybe someone who had approached her at the supermarket, or a coffee shop, or on the streets... anywhere, really. Someone new whom she had chatted to for a little while but had made no sexual advances on her.’
This time Tom took a little longer to reply.
‘No, I can’t recall her saying anything.’
‘Are you sure?’
Tom took another moment.
‘Yes, I’m pretty sure.’
This killer was also very comfortable in assuming different identities. He’d proved that when playing out the ‘cousin’ scenario with Nicole Wilson. From that, Garcia had to assume that he was also very good at disguising himself. If he really had come face to face with Sharon Barnard prior to the murder night, chances were he didn’t do it as himself.
‘How about mentioning anything about someone that she might’ve seen before, but was unsure? Maybe a face that she thought looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place? Did she ever comment on anything like that?’
Tom scratched his left elbow and his eyes squinted one more time as he thought about it.
‘In our line of work, that happens quite often, Detective. It’s not uncommon for some of us to get scheduled anywhere up to fifteen flights a week. As you can imagine, that’s a lot of faces to greet, smile at, serve, smile at some more and then say goodbye to as they disembark. Some of them we might remember well for one reason or another, but most just get logged into our subconscious and we tend to forget about them. If I had a penny for every time I heard one of my colleagues say “That person looks familiar”, I’d be a billionaire.’
Garcia understood that very well, but he still had to try.
‘Yes, I imagine it happens a lot,’ he said. ‘Probably more often than in any other profession, but still, do you recall Ms. Barnard recently mentioning anything about someone whom she thought looked familiar?’
‘Hmm... ’ Tom frowned. ‘Actually, come to think of it, I do.’
Forty-six
Garcia’s eyebrows arched slightly at Tom’s response because, in all honesty, he was about to give up on the interview.
‘A passenger caught her eye not so long ago. Attractive man, tall, well built, well dressed, very polite, very quiet too.’
‘You saw him?’
‘Yeah, we were working the same flight. Sharon really had the hots for him.’ Tom proceeded to tell Garcia about Sharon asking him what he thought of the passenger, and their little guessing game.
Garcia kept his voice steady and void of any excitement because he knew that this could mean absolutely nothing at all. As Tom had said, as a flight attendant, Sharon Barnard would’ve seen a staggering number of faces over the past year and throughout her whole life. Garcia was well aware of the fact that a person’s subconscious doesn’t only spit recent memories and images back at them. It can go back months, years, decades even. But there was also a chance that the passenger could be the man they were looking for. Garcia needed more details.
‘You didn’t happen to catch his name, do you?’
‘No, sorry, Detective.’
‘It’s OK.’ Garcia moved forward in his seat. ‘So this passenger showed no signs of recognizing Ms. Barnard, even though she thought he looked familiar?’
Tom shook his head. ‘Not as far as I know. If he had, she would’ve jumped at the chance, I’m telling you.’
Garcia wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.
‘Did this passenger look familiar to you at all?’ Garcia asked. ‘Do you think that maybe you have seen him on a previous flight or something?’
‘No, not to me. Truth be told, he was quite a hunk. If I had seen him before, I’m very sure that I would remember.’ Tom looked at Garcia curiously. ‘Do you think that this passenger could’ve had anything to do with what happened to Sharon?’
‘Probably not,’ Garcia admitted. ‘But we’re checking absolutely everything.’
Those last words seemed to comfort Tom.
‘Can you remember which flight it was?’ Garcia asked.
Tom chewed on his bottom lip. ‘Not exactly, no, but I know that it wasn’t that long ago.’
‘Past week? Two?’
‘Umm... ’ Some more squinting. ‘I don’t think it was any longer than in the past week.’
‘And you’re sure you can’t remember which flight it was? That would really help.’
Tom rubbed his eyes as he thought back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a long while. ‘I can’t remember. My mind is in such a mess.’
‘That’s not a problem,’ Garcia reassured him. He decided to try a different approach to narrow it down as much as he could. ‘How many flights did you and Ms. Barnard work together in the past week, do you know?’
‘I’m not quite sure, but let me go get my cellphone and I’ll find out.’
As Tom got to the door, he paused and looked back at Garcia.
‘Would you like a drink, Detective? Coffee, juice, water?’
‘No, I’m fine for now, thank you very much.’
Tom left the study. When he came back, he was holding a smartphone in his right hand.
‘We did five flights together last week,’ he announced even before he had returned to his seat.
Damn! Garcia thought. That was still a hell of a lot of passengers.
‘Is there anything else you can remember about the flight that could maybe narrow it down a little further?’
Tom looked pensive. ‘It was a morning flight, I remember that.’ He checked his cellphone again. ‘OK, Sharon and I worked only three morning flights last week. We did an out/in from LA to Frisco on Monday. We flew out from LAX at six a.m., landed at around seven-hirty at San Francisco International Airport, quick turnaround, left Frisco at eight-thirty a.m. and landed back at LAX at around ten. The other flight began as an overnight. We flew out to Sacramento on that same Monday night, but the flight back was on Tuesday morning.’
Tom lifted a hand and made a face at Garcia, as if he had just remembered something else.
Garcia waited.
‘OK,’ Tom said. ‘I just remembered that the passenger we are talking about was on a flight back to LA, not on an outward flight.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m pretty sure. I remember that, after we landed, Sharon and I had a quick sandwich and a cup of coffee at Brioche Dorée in terminal four. I remember it because she kept on looking around and over her shoulder to see if she could spot him again.’
Down to two flights.
‘Anything else you remember that might help us identify who that passenger was?’ Garcia asked. ‘Or maybe narrow it down a little bit more?’
Garcia saw Tom’s eyes widen a fraction and his eyebrows lift. He had remembered something else.
‘He was sitting toward the front of the plane,’ Tom said, triumphantly. ‘I remember it because I could see him well from the plane’s front galley. That’s where Sharon and I were playing our passengers’ game. But as far as I can remember, he wasn’t right at the front, so I would discard rows one through six, maybe. I’d say he was somewhere between rows seven and fourteen.’