The Last Flight Review

The air hums with urgency at JFK Airport on a biting February day in 2022. Eva James weaves through Terminal 4, her pulse a staccato beat, eyes darting for a stranger she knows only by name and flight number. “People vanish every day,” she mutters, a mantra stitched into her bones. Across the chaos, Claire Cook steps from a sleek black town car, her breath fogging in the chill, her mind a tangle of plans unraveling like thread. Two women, tethered by desperation, collide in Julie Clark’s The Last Flight, a 2020 novel that splits its voice between them—Claire, fleeing a gilded cage of abuse, and Eva, clawing free from a drug-soaked abyss. Their stories, braided through alternating chapters, unfold a raw, unflinching tale of escape, identity, and the fragile power of women lifting each other from the wreckage.

Click here to get the audiobook for free

A Fragile Facade Crumbles

Claire Cook’s life glitters on the surface—wife to Rory, a New York philanthropist with a senator’s ambitions, her days shimmer with charity galas and tailored smiles. Beneath it, bruises bloom like dark flowers, hidden under scarves and lies. Rory’s charm is a mask; his fists, a silent tyrant. For a decade, she’s played the part, isolated since her mother and sister vanished in a car crash 14 years ago, leaving her vulnerable to his orbit. Escape feels like a dream too brittle to hold—until she carves a way out. Months of hoarding cash, a fake ID as “Amanda Burns,” a trip to Detroit masked as a Cook Foundation errand. The plan: slip into Canada, shed her skin, start anew. She confides in Petra, an old friend from the gym, their goodbye a quiet fracture the day before departure.

But Rory rewrites the script. The night before, his questions slice through her calm—suspecting an affair, he probes her errands. Claire, heart thudding, copies his hidden laptop files onto a thumb drive, stashing it in her toothbrush case. Morning brings a gut punch: the maid swaps her winter clothes for summer linens. Bruce, Rory’s steely chief of staff, announces she’s off to Puerto Rico instead, a storm-relief project replacing Detroit. Her package—money, passport—waits in a hotel Rory’s already raided. Numb, she’s chauffeured to JFK, calling the hotel in a daze. “He picked it up,” the concierge says, and the world tilts into nightmare.

A Chemist’s Descent

Six months earlier, in Oakland’s shadow near UC Berkeley, Eva James stirs a batch of narcotics in a basement lab, the air sharp with chemicals. Once a chemistry prodigy dreaming of lecture halls, she’s now a cog in a drug syndicate’s machine. Foster care shaped her—abandoned at two by a junkie mother, her talent bloomed at Berkeley until a jock boyfriend lured her into cooking dope. Busted in a campus lab, he turned on her; expulsion followed. Dex, his friend, pulled her deeper, a decade blurring into deals and dread under the elusive “Fish.” She serves tables at a seafood joint as cover, her real work peddling pills to students and profs.

August heat clings as she confronts Brett, a debtor. He shrugs—broke. Eva nods; two shadows emerge, fists flying. She walks away, but Dex’s sudden presence jolts her—a rare visit from the middleman. He sets up a meet with Brittany, a new client. Watching a cat snag a bird in a puddle, feathers scattering like omens, Eva feels the ground shift. “Be careful,” she whispers, the words a prayer to herself.

The Swap

At JFK, Eva shadows Claire to the bar, catching her frantic call to Petra. “A woman on the run,” Eva thinks, “like me.” She spins a tale—fleeing scrutiny over her cancer-riddled husband’s death—and probes Claire: “Can someone just disappear?” Claire, raw from Rory’s sabotage, latches on. They hatch a wild gambit: trade tickets, bags, lives. In the restroom, Claire’s pink sweater drapes Eva’s frame; keys, cards, phones swap hands. Eva boards for Puerto Rico; Claire heads to Oakland. A text buzzes Eva’s new phone—“What the fuck have you done?”—but she shrugs it off, temptation tugging her to bolt with Claire’s cash.

Claire lands in Oakland, the plane’s hum still in her ears, when screens flash: the Puerto Rico flight’s gone down, no survivors. Her knees buckle. Eva’s purse yields an address; a cab delivers her to a tidy flat near Berkeley’s buzz. It’s too clean for a dying man’s widow. A phone chirps in the kitchen—not the one Eva carried—its message stark: “Why didn’t you show up?” Claire’s stomach twists. Who was Eva?

Unraveling Threads

Eva’s past unfurls in flashbacks. Brittany’s meeting reeks of a trap—double pills, a flimsy excuse. Eva bails, later spotting her with a man in a government car. Fear coils tighter. Liz, a neighbor and Princeton prof, stumbles into her life, a fall on the steps sparking friendship. Over vodka, Liz’s voice—deep, steady—soothes Eva’s frayed edges. A government car lingers outside; paranoia gnaws. She’s a bird in a cat’s gaze, unsure if she’s predator or prey.

Claire, meanwhile, dyes her hair platinum in Eva’s bathroom, mirroring the woman she’s become. News reels show her bag, her sweater, floating in wreckage. Rory’s emails reveal a grieving act, but a task force note shatters it: her seat was empty. “Then where is she?” he snaps. Claire, peering through his accounts, knows he’s hunting. At a coffee shop, Kelly, a barista with a warm grin, offers a catering gig. Claire spills her truth—abused, hiding. Kelly vows to help her north, maybe Oregon.

Mirrors and Motives

Eva’s reflection in a subway window, post-game with Liz, cracks her facade. Her mother’s addiction ruined her; now she fuels others’ ruin. Liz, a surrogate mother, urges her to reclaim her life. Agent Castro knocks, offering a deal, but Fish’s shadow looms. Dex, her lover and jailer, is Fish—Felix Argyros—unmasked by Castro. Eva flees to Newark, seeking Liz, who counsels a return to face the feds. Overhearing Liz’s daughter, Danielle, muse about Claire’s escape, Eva pivots: find Claire, swap tickets, vanish.

Claire’s mirror moments echo Eva’s. Dye dripping, she’s neither herself nor Eva, a liminal ghost. Rory’s emails hint at “Charlie,” a loose end tied to his first wife’s death—a fire he set, Maggie’s plea for space ignored. At a catering job, Claire intervenes in a couple’s spat, videos sparking online. “She looks like Rory Cook’s wife,” a comment reads. Panic flares; Kelly offers more work, a lifeline. A voicemail from Danielle—“I know you didn’t board”—jolts her. Danielle, Liz’s daughter and Rory’s aide, sends proof: Bruce admitting Rory killed Maggie. Claire uploads it to CNN, her voice steady on air: “I’m done with fear.”

The Reckoning

Eva boards the doomed flight, a fleeting freedom in her chest. “I need to see the horizon,” she thinks, stepping into oblivion. Claire’s CNN gambit topples Rory—Charlie, his ex-mistress, testifies; a grand jury looms. She returns to Berkeley, Kelly’s friendship an anchor. Danielle visits, linking Eva to Liz, her regret fueling Claire’s salvation. The epilogue lingers on Eva’s final breath, a bittersweet release.

A Tapestry of Truths

The Last Flight isn’t tidy. Claire’s triumph—Rory’s ruin, a new life—leans on luck and solidarity. Eva’s end, a crash she chose, stings with realism. Abuse’s toll scars Claire’s every move—paranoia in a CNN car, relief at Kelly’s kindness. Secrets fester—Rory’s murder, Eva’s trade—until women unravel them. Liz, Kelly, Danielle weave a quiet revolution, their support a lifeline. Escape’s allure fades; Claire faces her past, Eva flees into it. Bruises, the Internet, a bluebird, reflections—they mark a story of women defying a world that brands them disposable. Clark whispers: some soar, some fall, but the fight endures.

Summary and Study Guide

Click here to get a complete chapter-by-chapter summary of Julie Clark´s book The Last Flight.