I have no story. I also have no clothes, I realize, as I stroll by the bustling baggage claim area. No toothbrush. No contact-lens solution to put my lenses back in tomorrow. No …
“Dammit!” A twentysomething girl, teetering on strappy, outrageously high platform sandals, is struggling to wrestle the world’s largest suitcase from the moving conveyor belt. I watch as she tugs at the handle with one French-manicured hand, trotting alongside the moving conveyor. Her tawny hair swinging across her shoulders, she yanks on the bag’s chocolate-brown leather strap again. And again. But the baggage doesn’t budge, continuing its travel away from her. And almost out of reach. She stamps an impatient foot, then looks around, defeated and annoyed, her hair whirling like one of those girls in a shampoo ad. I look, too, but there are no skycaps in sight.
“Need some help?” I offer. The laws of physics will never allow her the leverage to yank that obviously pricey closet on wheels away from the flapping plastic baffles that cover the entrance to wherever unclaimed baggage goes. Fashion-victim shoes aside, this girl probably lives on diet soda and breath strips.
I put down my tote bag, grab her suitcase handle, and wrench her tan-and-brown monolith from the belt. It lands with a thud on one wheel. We both move to steady it before it topples to the floor.
“Oh, wow. Thank you,” she says. Her voice has the trace of an accent, exotic, but I can’t place it. “I practically live in airports, but usually there is someone to help.”
“Yeah, well, that was clearly going to be a problem,” I say, gesturing to her actually very elegant and certainly expensive designer suitcase. Unless—hmm. I wish the Prada P.I. was here now to tell me if it’s authentic. “I guess that’s why they call it luggage.”
She stares at me, uncomprehending.
“Lug?” I say. “Luggage?” I try to cover my failed attempt at humor by offering a compliment. “That’s quite the gorgeous bag. Where did you—”
The girl compares her claim check with the one on the bag. It’s tagged ATL, from Atlanta. Although there’s hardly going to be a mistake about who it belongs to. This isn’t one of the black wheelie clones circling the baggage claim.
“Ah, yes, it’s from…” She pauses, putting one slim hand on one impossibly slim blue-jeaned hip, and looks me up and down. Assessing, somehow. “You’ve been so nice to me. Let me ask you. Do you like it?” She points to her suitcase.
She’s not from Atlanta. Canadian? French, maybe? As if she needed to be even more attractive. And she’s asking if I like her suitcase? Maybe it’s a cultural thing. I shrug. “Well, sure.”
The girl holds out a hand. “I’m Regine,” she says. Ray-zheen.
“I’m…” I begin to introduce myself, shaking her hand. But she’s still talking.
“If you are interested in designer bags? Like this one?” She waits for my answer, head tilted, one eyebrow lifted.
“Well, of course, I…”
“Then here,” she interrupts again. She digs into her recognizably logo-covered pouch of a purse, pulls out a cream-colored business card, and presents it to me with what looks like a conspiratorial smile.
I glance at it, then back at her. Her eyes are twinkling, as if she has a secret. And I guess she does. “Designer Doubles?” I read from the card. I look back at her suitcase. This day is getting a whole lot more interesting. And potentially a whole lot more valuable. Talk about the right place at the right time. Thank you, news gods.
“Designer Doubles? You mean, your suitcase is not really…?” I pretend to be baffled.
“Not a bit,” she replies. She pats her purse. “And neither is this one. But they are perfect, are they not? The Web site on that card will tell you where you can find a purse party. And there, you can buy one for yourself.”
“Well, my goodness,” I say, allowing my eyes to go wide. As if I’m considering some fabulously tempting offer. “I think I’ve heard about this in magazines.”
“Exactly.” Regine nods, as if the lust for luxury somehow bonds us. She twirls her bag on one wheel, ready to join the swirl of departing passengers heading for the exit. “My pleasure.”
And she’s gone.
Buy one for myself, she’d suggested. What a very lovely idea.
Tucking the card safely into a zippered pocket of my tote bag, I’m already reworking our story. Talk about the right place at the right time. If this all goes as I hope, I am indeed going to buy one for myself. Perhaps several. But what Regine doesn’t know is I’ll be doing it in disguise. Undercover. And carrying a hidden camera. This glossy, expensive little business card could be my ticket to journalism glory.
If I don’t get caught.
Copyright © 2009 by Hank Phillippi Ryan
Books by Hank Phillippi Ryan
THE JANE RYLAND SERIES
The Other Woman
The Wrong Girl
Truth Be Told
What You See
Say No More
THE CHARLOTTE MCNALLY SERIES
Prime Time
Face Time
Air Time
Drive Time
Praise for Award-Winning Author Hank Phillippi Ryan
ON THE CHARLOTTE MCNALLY SERIES
“Prime Time is current, clever, and chock-full of cliff-hangers. Readers are in for a treat.”
—Mary Jane Clark, New York Times bestselling author
“Face Time is a gripping, fast-paced thriller with an important story line and an engaging and unusual heroine. As Charlie McNally wrestles with aging, ratings, her mother, and her lover’s little girl, she gives us a vivid behind-the-scenes look at television news; we meet a cast of characters whom we hope to see again.”
—Sara Paretsky, New York Times bestselling author
“Sassy, fast-paced, and appealing. This is first-class entertainment.”
—Sue Grafton, New York Times bestselling author, on Air Time
“Hank Phillippi Ryan knows the television business entirely; she understands plotting; and she writes beautifully. No wonder I loved Drive Time. Anyone would.”
—Robert B. Parker, New York Times bestselling author
ON THE JANE RYLAND SERIES
“The Other Woman does everything a great suspense novel should.… Ryan raises the bar sky-high—I knew she was good, but I had no idea she was this good.”
—Lee Child, New York Times bestselling author
“Whip-smart writing and a dizzying pace make The Wrong Girl a thrilling, one-night read!”
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author
“Smart, well-paced … Ryan, a Mary Higgins Clark Award winner, cleverly ties the plot together, offers surprising but believable plot twists, and skillfully characterizes the supporting cast.… Just the right amount of romance.”
—Publishers Weekly on Truth Be Told
“Award-winner Ryan is a master of her craft.… This is exceptional suspense written in Ryan’s inimitable style.”
—RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!) on What You See
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN is the investigative reporter for Boston’s NBC affiliate and has won thirty-three Emmys and thirteen Edward R. Murrow Awards for her groundbreaking journalism. Ryan has also won multiple awards for her bestselling crime fiction, including five Agatha Awards and the Anthony, Macavity, Daphne du Maurier, and Mary Higgins Clark Awards. Ryan is a founding teacher at Mystery Writers of America University and past president of national Sisters in Crime. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Aut
hor’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Truth Be Told
Excerpt from Air Time
Books by Hank Phillippi Ryan
Praise for the Author
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
FACE TIME
Copyright © 2009 by Hank Phillippi Ryan
Author’s Note © 2016 by Hank Phillippi Ryan
All rights reserved.
Cover art © by Getty Images
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-8477-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7653-8478-2 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-0-7653-8479-9 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9780765384799
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Originally published by MIRA Books
First Forge Edition: April 2016
Face Time Page 26
