Alice Sharpe - Hidden Identity

Flown away? He had a plane? Where did he go? And why didn’t he take her with him?

One of the officials, a fifty-year-old guy named Ballard, managed to insinuate Steven was not who he said he was and she was better off without him. She’d already guessed the first part, and she adamantly denied the latter, then told him to get out and not come back.

But where did Steven get an airplane? Why had he never mentioned it or that he was a pilot?

Authorities then located the downed aircraft in the extreme depths of a glacial lake located in a designated wilderness area in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Ballard had shown up again, this time with a smirk on his face. He’d casually informed her that due to a host of reasons, from EPA regulations down to cost effectiveness, the plane was unsalvageable. Gear from the crash had floated to the surface, but Steven’s body remained underwater, probably strapped into his seat from now until time’s end.

There was no turning back, not for Steven, and not for her, either. She extended the money order to the pilot.

Bobby’s smudged hand reached for it as a taxi pulled up. It stopped with a squeal of brakes and the passenger door flew open. A man hit the ground running.

“I caught you, thank God,” he said as he ground to a stop in front of the pilot. He didn’t spare Chelsea so much as a glance. “I need to rent that helicopter,” he added. “I need to get to my house outside of Elko, Nevada. There’s a private airstrip there you can use. I’ll pay whatever you want. Just hurry.”

Greed stole into Bobby’s eyes. He licked his lips as he glanced at Chelsea and for a second she was sure he was about to send her packing. The panic of that possibility cemented the importance she’d placed on this sojourn and any lingering doubts fled. If Bobby thought he could ditch her for Mr. Money Pockets, he was in for a fight.

Before she could plead her case, Bobby turned back to the newcomer and sighed. “Sorry,” he said with obvious regret. “I’m already booked. This little lady here, well, me and Gertie are all hers for as long as she needs.”

The newcomer turned the force of his attention to Chelsea. Standing face-to-face with her, he appeared younger than she’d originally thought, closer to forty than fifty. His suit looked expensive, as did the gold ring on his left hand. “How much?” he said.

“How much what?”

“For you to walk away.”

“I’m sorry,” she began, “but—”

“How about twice what’s on that check you’re holding?” he said, his dark eyes intense.

“It’s not about money.”

“What then? Can’t you see I’m desperate?”

She could see that. However, so was she.

He took a deep, shaky breath. “Listen, miss. I know this is abrupt but I can explain. I’m in the middle of a business trip, right? On my way to Los Angeles, or at least I was. Then just as my plane began boarding, I got a call.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “The bottom line is my wife’s been in an accident. Apparently, it’s—it’s bad. I live in an out-of-the-way burg of a town. It’ll take two flights and a long car drive to get me home and all that takes time. This is my only chance of seeing her, of getting to her in time...”

The pilot cleared his throat. “You two could share the chopper,” he said. “Miss Pierce’s destination is about halfway to yours. We could combine the flights.”

“But landing and taking off again takes time,” the man said. “Time I may not have—”

Chelsea interrupted. “I don’t need to land. All I need is for the helicopter to fly low and hover for a minute or two while I...well, I need those few minutes and a little silence. After that, I don’t care where I go as long as I end up back here. As far as I’m concerned you’re welcome to share the flight.”

She had at first read the guy’s demeanor as dismissive or even arrogant, but now that she understood what was behind his impatience her heart went out to him. Who better than she knew the ache of losing someone you love? Maybe this guy still had time to say goodbye. Tears burned behind her nose.

“You’d be willing to do that?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

He took a steadying breath. “Thank you.” He glanced at the money order still clutched in her hand. “You keep that. This is on me.”

“I couldn’t let you—”

“Please.”

“You two choke me up, you really do,” Bobby said with a new grin that made the first one look anemic by comparison. “You both have some papers to sign while I refile the flight plan and then we’ll be off. But I have to warn you Mr.—”

“Smith. My name is Jacob Smith.”

“I’m going to have to refuel at your destination before we fly back here. You’ll have to pay for the extra time and miles—”

“Just tell me how much,” Smith said, waving away his waiting taxi. “And hurry.”

Chelsea was happy to let the two men work out the details as she did her best not to shiver in the weak spring sun. Eventually everything was settled and she was ushered into the helicopter and directed to sit in the second row of seats, closest to the door. The space behind her was piled with duffel bags and taped-up boxes of every size.

Under the pilot’s direction she strapped herself in her seat and set aside the roses. As Jacob Smith stood outside talking on his cell phone, Bobby gave her instructions about what to do when the time came to throw the flowers, then closed the cargo door and ran around the aircraft to climb aboard. She expected Smith would claim the seat next to hers, but he slipped into the front with the pilot. Given his anxiety, it made sense to her that he would want to sit as far forward as possible. She was grateful for the semiprivacy of their turned heads.

Once the switches were thrown and the blades started revolving, conversation was out of the question, although Bobby had pointed out the headset they could use to communicate once she put it on. Frankly, right then she didn’t want to talk to anyone. In her mind she reviewed the directions she’d given him, taken from Steven himself when she asked him to tell her about the happiest day of his life.

He’d responded, “Today. Here with you. Now.”

There’d been a long pause as she lost herself in his kisses. Eventually she’d rephrased the question. “Okay then, the happiest day before we met?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s easy. There’s this little cabin not that far from here,” he’d said, and then proceeded to describe a mountain getaway in such detail she could not only see it in her head, but was also pretty sure she could find it on a map. “It was one of the last places I visited with my parents. I’ll never forget it.”

Once she’d finally accepted his death and the repercussions that would live with her forever, the need to somehow bring peace to her life became imperative. She’d thought of visiting the lake where his plane was entombed in water. But then she’d remembered this cabin and chosen past joy over current pain.

The helicopter rose off the ground and her stomach lurched. Ninety minutes. She retrieved the bouquet of roses, glanced at the gold foil handwritten note she’d attached to the stems and clutched them to her chest. Their perfume bathed her face as she closed her eyes.

* * *

SOMEHOW, DESPITE THE loud and constant whirring of the blades, she managed to fall asleep, but awakened with a start. Gazing out the window, she saw little but tree-covered mountains in every direction. Where were they? She put on the headset. She could see the tops of both men’s heads but there was no conversation going on between them.

“Are we getting close?” she asked.

Bobby threw her a thumbs-up. His voice crackled through the headset. “We’re almost there. Look down. See the river?”