Ridley Pearson - Killer Summer

“The thing is,” he said, “and we know this better than anyone else, it’s a lot harder when they’re gone, no matter how much of a pain in the ass they are when they’re around.”

“Do you want to see the cockpit or have an Oprah moment?”

He followed her to the front of the jet, and she stepped aside to allow him to pass. He hesitated.

“Go on. It’s why you came along, isn’t it?”

He thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“To sit in that seat.”

He remained standing.

“I understand wanting to blow him off,” he said. “I’ve asked my mother, like, a thousand times to move. Everything here reminds me of him. I can’t stand living in the valley anymore. I’m done. How my mom does it, I have no idea. She’s like trying to hold on to something that isn’t there. She is so lost.”

He slipped into the pilot’s seat. He could hear her breathing.

“You could come with me,” she said.

“That would go over big.”

He sat there. She said nothing.

“We can turn on some music,” she said. “See those battery switches? Flip the second one.”

“I need the key, right? Are you sure this is cool?”

“There is no key. Not for this part.”

“No way.”

“ Way. The key’s for the door.”

“You’re bullshitting me!”

“No key, no shit.”

He double-checked her instructions and then pushed the buttons as told. Lights came on in the cabin, and she turned them off. Then she pulled down all the window blinds.

The dash had come alive, the number of lights and instruments overwhelming.

“Have you ever flown it?” he asked.

“I’ve steered it a couple of times, sure. My dad can land it. He took instruction and stuff. He’s a complete safety freak. There’s a case in the closet,” she said, “with an extra radio, a portable GPS, charts, flashlight. Extra everything-that’s my dad. He’ll probably wish he had an extra daughter by this time tomorrow.”

Kevin’s phone chirped, signaling a text message. He slipped the phone out of his front pocket.

Kev? Walt is looking for you. Where are you?

I’m coming to the airport. Mom

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

“Gotta go!” he said. How the hell does she know I’m here?

Someone must have seen his car.

“No way! We just got here.”

“I’ve got to go,” he repeated.

Cantell, McGuiness, and Salvo entered Sun Valley Aviation wearing flight uniforms. They approached the reception counter with an air of confidence, their caps pulled low.

ON DUTY: REBA KLINE read the plaque.

Cantell placed a small key on the counter, along with a pen and some paperwork.

“I’d like to settle charges for Lear tango-alpha-niner-five-niner.”

“Absolutely,” Reba said. She worked the computer, found the account, and printed out a statement for him to review.

Cantell paid her eleven hundred seventy-five dollars in cash.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Cash is king,” she said. “We just don’t see a lot of it here.”

She printed out a receipt.

“Where’s William this evening?” she asked the pilot. “Wasn’t that his name?”

“William the Conqueror?” the man teased. Salvo and McGuiness laughed with him. “He’s picking up the flight in the morning. We’re the maintenance crew.”

“There’s that pesky little requirement of TBO,” said McGuiness. TBO was an aviation term for time between overhauls. McGuiness had spun that into time between drinks. Reba Kline got the joke and laughed with him.

“There is that, ” she said.

Cantell scribbled a physician-style signature on the paperwork.

“Did you happen to cater?” she asked, already checking a card file.

McGuiness produced a tin of Altoids. “This is our food service,” he said, winning another laugh from her.

“We’re bringing it down to Boise for a DVD issue,” Salvo said. “Can’t have the DVD malfunctioning.”

Cantell shot Salvo a look.

“We’ve got some good electronics guys here,” Reba said.

Cantell smiled at her weakly. “Boss wants it done in Boise.”

“I hear that,” she said.

“Should be back around nine A.M. tomorrow,” McGuiness added.

“So, we’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said. “Safe skies, gentlemen.”

Cantell checked his appearance in a mirror behind her that had been frosted to look like clouds.

Reba Kline experienced a slight tinge of unease as the three men left and headed for the Lear.

It wasn’t the pilot’s vanity-Lord knows, pilots are full of themselves. It wasn’t him paying cash, not exactly, though maybe that was part of it.

She’d gotten plenty of dirty looks in her time, but she’d come to accept the egos of flyboys. So the little guy had made a point of undressing her with his eyes, big deal. What pissed off and confused her was the wake of debris they left behind. Bark chips, sawdust, dried mud: it was like they’d been climbing trees or cutting firewood minutes before coming in here.

What was with that?

She turned back to the keyboard and closed out the sale.

Walt clambered over the logs, already on the radio trying to identify possible high-stakes, south valley robbery targets.

The first thing that came to mind was the cache of arms and vehicles housed at the National Guard Armory. Every kind of weapon, half a dozen Hummers, the theft could be catastrophic. There were other prizes locally as well: art collections, famous and wealthy kidnapping targets. When he looked at the valley from that point of view, he was all the more aware of how vulnerable it was to an organized attack like this one. The thought drove him over the final log all that much faster.

It was then, through the obnoxious beeping of car horns, that he heard someone falling and cursing behind him, someone following him over the logs. He turned, prepared to give Brandon an earful.

Fiona stared back at him, holding her black dress well above her knees. She released the dress’s hem, and it fell.

“I told you,” she said.

You can’t be here,” Walt said from the driver’s seat of a Toyota Prius he had commandeered. Thankfully, the driver hadn’t put up a fight.

“But I am, so live with it.”

“You’re a civilian. I’m dropping you off in town.”

“No, you’re not. I was the one who figured this out. You obviously need me.”

He smirked, resenting that she could win this from him.

“I also happen to be a woman,” she said, “which is something that has apparently escaped your attention. If you take custody of this runaway, then you’re going to need a woman as part of your team.”

“How can you possibly know-?” He cut himself off, answering himself. “Myra.”

“No, it wasn’t Myra,” she said. “I may have run into Chuck Webb, but I’m not saying I did.”

“I can’t deal with Kevin or the girl… not now.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You followed me.”

“You really are a brilliant investigator.”

“Why would you follow me?” he said.

“You ask too many questions.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m conflicted,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“ Some detective you are.”

Kevin scrambled down out of the pilot’s seat. He pushed her back into the body of the plane.

“What?” she said.

“Three guys heading this way.”

“No,” she said. “To a different plane. Chill, dude.”

“I swear.”

She eased into the cockpit and sneaked a peek.