Each item—her book, her phone, the thin blanket she had draped over her lap—was collected with a sense of finality. Casting a glance toward the man—toward the imposter—who was now slipping out of his seat, Kristen couldn’t help but feel a swell of mixed emotions.
His face was unreadable, a mask of calm that betrayed nothing of the turmoil brewing just beneath the surface. He had no idea what awaited him on the other side of that door, the consequences lurking like shadows in the corners of the terminal.