The lone suitcase on the carousel looked identical to mine but for the scratch on the side.
“Better check this out,” the airline attendant said. “Someone obviously grabbed yours by mistake.” He lifted it onto a cart.
Twenty minutes later a customs officer beckoned me. “You’re certain this isn’t your suitcase, Mrs. Smetch?”
“Positive,” I glanced over his shoulder and gasped. Another officer held two bags of white powder.
“My suitcase has my journal inside!” I clutched his arm. “Whoever took it will be showing up at my door …”
“No need to panic, Ma’am. We’ll deal with this.”