No Hair broke the silence that settled over the salon after the door closed to 704. “Lock us up, steal the money.” “Did you hear that?” I asked my babies in a shaky voice. “A simple plan.” A simple plan that had their father forty thousand feet over an ocean at the mercy of a felon pilot. I was so glad the babies didn’t know, couldn’t know, I hoped they’d never know. “It’s only been,” No Hair looked at his watch, “forty-eight hours.” “It feels like forty-eight years.” But he was right. It was only two little days ago, almost to the hour, when I walked through the door of 704, No Hair was captured, and the cabin door on Bellissimo One closed with Bradley and Baylor inside. It was a simple trap, was what it was, and we fell right in it. “What do we think happened on the plane?” No Hair asked gently, quietly. “Just like in the movies,”
