“We’ll let the lawyers figure out who needs to be brought in. I’m so sorry you are going through this, sis. What else can I do?”
Hold her while she cried. “Just see if we can assemble a posse and make Pat and her minions shit their pants.”
“Oh, hon… we’ll do that. And I’ll call Katie, too.”
“OK.”
“How are you otherwise? Are you sleeping?”
Monica hesitated. “Ah, yeah. I’m… yeah.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“My leg hurts at night.” That certainly wasn’t a lie.
“When do you get the cast off?”
“Next week. Then I’ll start physical therapy.” She knew walking with the cast was easy compared to what she had to look forward to in the coming months.
“That’s something at least. I’ll bet you’ll feel better then.”
Yeah, her physical wounds were healing. That was something.
Trent huddled under his windbreaker, cursing the cold wind. His blood had certainly thinned in the last couple of years. That was proven as he stood on the private airstrip just south of SeaTac International shivering his ass off. He’d been introduced to the management of the Pacific Northwest team as TJ Childs. He wasn’t sure how far he could convince any of them that he was a pilot new to the company and considering a transfer to Seattle.
Trent circled around the Citation, inspecting the seven-passenger private jet. The hours logged into this aircraft exceeded what the flight log suggested. The FAA wasn’t happy about the discrepancy and it was going to end up an external investigation if Trent and his brothers didn’t find the culprit.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Frank was a hotshot thirty-six-year-old who’d flown for Fairchild Charters for a few years. He reminded Trent vaguely of the high school football star who always wanted to be the center of attention. After only a couple of days, Trent’s gut told him that Frank was their man. He had yet to prove he used the aircraft for anything other than work, so Trent kept his thoughts to himself as he acted the curious observer.
“She’s sweet. Take her out often?”
“Often enough,” Frank said. “We have a couple of execs that request her on a routine basis.”
The door to the hangar that housed the plane was open, whipping in the wind from outside. How did the locals handle the constant drizzle? He’d been there for only a few days and was already done with it.
Trent asked questions, though he knew the answers. “How long is her range?”
Frank told him the miles the bird would fly and the cargo weight restrictions. He knew his planes.
“It would be nice to have your own. Go anywhere… anytime.” Trent planted the seed and waited for Frank to bite.
Frank lowered his sunglasses over his eyes and looked up at the engine. Who wore sunglasses on rainy days? “We’d have to be doing more than flying them in order to own them. Besides, we have the privilege without the headache.”
“Oh, how’s that?”
“The cost of housing, maintaining… fuel. You know what that all adds up to?”
Yeah, he did.
“But you’re flying other people where they want to go.”
Frank shrugged. “Works out sometimes.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Trent removed his cell phone as Frank walked away with the intention of dropping Frank’s name on Glen. He noticed two missed calls, both from numbers with which he wasn’t familiar.
The callers didn’t leave messages so he went on to text his brother and then turned the ringer on.
Twenty minutes later, his phone rang. “Yeah?” he answered.
“Trent?”
“Jase, how ya doing?” He ducked away from any ears, stood outside the hangar doors, and watched the rain pelt the runway.
“I got your text and have Sally checking what we know on him.”
“Sounds good. It’s a hunch. I don’t have anything solid.”
Jason laughed. “Listen to you sounding all spy-guy.”
“Call me Bond.”
“How does it look up there?”
“Rainy. But the operation runs well. Management is efficient and the planes are in great shape.” He walked out in the rain and elaborated on the business.
“It sounds like you have it figured out,” Jason said. “Oh, another reason for the call.”
“Yeah?”
“I got a call from Jack Morrison. He’s looking for you.”
Monica!
Trent turned away from the wind. “Did he say why?”
“Something about his sister-in-law needing your help. Isn’t she the one you were in the cave with?”
“Monica… yeah. Is she OK?” Something inside tightened and felt as if it were going to snap.
“How would I know? I told him I’d pass on the message. He did say he wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”
Trent thought about the missed calls on his cell.
“Do you know his number?” Jason asked.
“I got it. Thanks.”
His throat tightened when he dialed Jack Morrison’s cell. As the phone rang, Trent walked farther away from the building.
Jack answered on the second ring. “Morrison.”
“Jack? It’s Trent Fairchild. I hear you’re looking for me.”
“Yeah, I am. Can you hold on a second?”