High Flying

by Kaylin McFarren

  Skylar became aware of the sound closing in around them and softly said, “Come this way, Jake.” She held her hand out to him, and he gazed at it for a moment. “Come with me,” she said again, smiling. “Let’s get you in that plane.” He slipped his hand into hers, and his small palm was warm and callused. She pulled him along with her toward her plane, while Ethan watched from a distance. When she was about to hoist him inside, Jake took a step back, and his face paled. She knelt down on one knee in front of him and held out her hand. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” she asked. “Are you scared? I’ll be back real soon. I promise.”

  Suddenly, his arms went around her neck, hugging her tight. His head dropped to her shoulder and his mouth pressed into her hair as he whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here. I missed you, Mama.”

  Assuming shock was the result of his confusion, Skylar went with her emotions. She buried her face against his chest, breathing him in, forgetting time and place and circumstance to just hold him. For just a few quiet seconds, she needed to feel the love she missed in her life and desperately needed, almost as much as he needed hers.

  16

  Admission

  “Every time we get what we thought we wanted, we realize we want more.”

  — ANONYMOUS

  The heightened drama in the airplane hangar left Skylar craving distraction. “What happened to Jake’s mother?” she asked Ethan, keenly aware of the police officers within earshot. “Did she just disappear one day and never come back?”

  They were sitting in the hangar office waiting for a medical crew and Barillas’ team to begin the investigation.

  Ethan stared into space, as if reliving it himself. “Michelle was a preschool teacher…the real genuine article. She was estranged from Jake’s father and hadn’t seen him for a while. But, about four years ago, he found them. He broke into their house, brutally beat her and repeatedly stabbed her. He shot himself in the head, so at least one good thing came of it. But it was a gruesome, bloody scene, and Jake was hiding under his bed when it all went down.” Ethan sniffed. “He ended up going from one foster home to another…running away from all of them. Two years ago, I found him sleeping in an overhead storage bin in my apartment garage, and he’s been with me ever since. All nice and legal. Took some doing though. Dylan vouched for me when no one else would. He met with a judge and even wrote a recommendation letter, raving about what a great guy I am.” Ethan snorted. “Funny, huh?”

  “But what about his mother? Didn’t you explain to him that she was gone? I mean…in heaven or something?”

  Ethan turned to her, holding a bandage on his leg. “I tried, but it was useless. He just won’t accept it. I even took him to her gravesite. He refuses to believe she’s buried there. I know it seems sad right now, but the therapist he talks to said he’ll let go of all of it when he’s ready.”

  Barillas crossed the room and removed his hat, setting it aside on a nearby table. “Hello, Skylar.”

  “Inspector,” she said.

  Barillas sat in the chair across from them, eyeing their injuries with irritation. Apparently, it was inconvenient that Skylar’s shoulder was cut, and Ethan had suffered a gunshot wound.

  “Whatever Kaufman and the rest of your men told you about me isn’t true,” she said. “I’m fine, but Ethan needs someone to look at that.” She pointed at his bloody pant leg.

  Kaufman looked up from his sandwich. “I gave him a rag until the EMTs get here.”

  Skylar frowned, wondering when someone would explain the rules of this game to her.

  “What about you?” Barillas asked.

  “As you can see, I’m still in one piece…safe and sound from The Chaplain’s men. And that’s all you really care about anyway.” Her voice was bitter and accusing. “Although I can’t say the same thing about your partner. He seems to be a lot worse off than we are.”

  “A hazard of the profession,” Barillas said. “At least Diaz was able to wing Capellan before he tried to get away.”

  “You sure it was Diaz?”

  “We’re still checking, but he seems to think so.”

  Diaz sat next to the wall with a bag of ice on the back of his head, scowling at Ethan. “I know it was you,” he said. “You hit me from behind.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ethan looked away.

  “I doubt that,” Diaz said, staring down at the open backpack beside him.

  Barillas laid his hand on Skylar’s arm, jolting her. “So Skylar. You agree with Edwards then. Cesar Capellan is The Chaplain.”

  “That’s what he said, isn’t it?” She glanced at Ethan.

  “But it’s what you believe too, Miss Brennen. Right?”

  Another officer walked into the room and she felt his eyes on her. “You know it is, Inspector,” she said. “What are you implying?”

  “Capellan seems to think you’re lying. That you’ve been lying since you arrived here. Now why do you think he’d say that?”

  “Because he’s an asshole. Or maybe, just maybe, because he’s a cold-blooded killer who would off all of us if given the chance.”

  The crease in Barillas’ brow deepened. “You really believe he’s a murderer?”

  “He tried to kill me. Isn’t that proof enough?”

  Skylar noticed a notebook on the table next to Barillas, open to a blank page, and a pen lying beside it. She felt as she had when the principal of her high school called her into his office. As though she was being studied, like she was a new species, something to be taken apart and looked at from the inside out.

  She rose to leave. “I don’t understand the reason for any of this. Just give me my backpack and I’ll be on my way.”

  Kaufman appeared to be taken back by the abruptness of her actions. “Sir, I don’t think—”

  “No you don’t. Sit down.” Barillas turned back to Skylar. “I’m sorry but you can’t go anywhere. You’ll have to wait until we’re finished here.”

  “I believe we already are. I answered all your questions. We both did…about being grabbed, threatened, shot at and almost killed. I don’t believe there’s anything left to say. Ethan and I are the victims here, not the criminals.”

  Barillas rubbed the back of his ear. “We’re trying to conduct a thorough investigation, Miss Brennen,” he told her. “We’ve got a dead body on our hands, and I’m still not satisfied with everyone’s explanation of what occurred. Is there anything else you’d like to add? Like why Ivan Volkov was here? Or why he tried to kill Ethan?”

  Skylar remained still, refusing to say more. They had already gone over it all half a dozen times, and their stories hadn’t changed one bit. Volkov was sent there by The Chaplain to make sure Dylan’s plane would be leaving for Mexico in less than sixteen hours. He pulled his gun and threatened to kill them because Skylar was asking too many questions, which is what she was told to do by Barillas. To find out who The Chaplain was and possibly the location of the drop site. She didn’t even blink or look away from Barillas while telling the story she and Ethan had cooked up, during his interrogation of his own men.

  “Dylan is meeting with a federal agent,” Barillas told her. “He asked if you could wait here until he’s done.”

  “All right, fine.” Skylar flopped back down.

  “Can I get you some coffee? Something to eat?”

  “Oh…now you’re going to be hospitable?”

  Barillas rolled his eyes. “Okay, enough of this. You can wait in the back room if you’d like. I believe there’s a cot in there, if you wanna lie down.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because Mr. Haines said you’ve been having trouble sleeping.” Barillas said. “And just so you know, we’re not all monsters, Miss Brennen. Some of us actually care about people.”

  “Especially you, I take it.”

  “Is that really so hard to believe?”

  Skylar stood when the EMTs arrived and walked into the adjoining room. It looked like it was us
ed for a break room. She closed the door behind her and felt the exhaustion that she had been keeping at bay.

  What would it hurt to close her eyes? Just for a few minutes? She kicked off her boots and laid back, supporting her injured shoulder. Closing her eyes, she went over recent events in her head and drifted off to sleep.

  The dream began like any other, a carousel of turning thoughts. Every emotion and event of her day replayed in her mind, demanding analysis before she could unwind. Finally, when the ride came to a stop and her mind was able to wander freely, she found herself drifting to a cloud-covered place where no sound, not even a breeze could be heard. Then just when she was beginning to fully relax, her anxiety returned along with her nemesis, reigniting her fears with fiery words, forever branded in her brain.

  “It should have been you and your goddamn grandfather,” Capellan said on the phone. “Not Sophie…not my Roxy. They didn’t deserve to die.” His face was on the head of an enormous black snake, coiling around her arms and body, squeezing the life out of her.

  “Let me go!” Skylar yelled, as she rocked back and forth, frantically struggling against him. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

  “No chance,” he hissed, squeezing tighter. “You’re the reason my family is dead. You’re the cause of all of it!”

  Skylar’s screams went unheard, as searing pain took over. He was crushing her, breaking every bone in her body.

  “Skylar,” a voice half-whispered. “Skylar, wake up.”

  She opened her eyes, confused. Dylan was sitting next to her and had his hand on her forehead, like he was feeling whether or not she had a temperature. She hated being so weak, so vulnerable and needy in his presence. And so damn gullible.

  She sat up. “I’m all right,” she said, her voice colder than she had intended.

  He looked at her with concern, but she wanted no part of that game. All she wanted to know was the truth.

  “Inspector Diaz wasn’t in the car, was he?”

  “I don’t what you mean. What car?”

  “The one that picked you up…on the day you got pulled into all of this.” Make him tell the truth, she told herself.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “It was kind of confusing that day. I don’t remember who was all there.”

  “Let me help you,” Skylar said. “Ethan and Julian…” She put out a finger for each of them, like she was counting. “And Hector Vasquez.” Another finger. “And there was one more person.” She stared at her hand, trying to come up with the name for her last finger. “Who was that?” She looked directly into his eyes and said, “The man who talked you into all of this, right? It was The Chaplain. Am I right, Dylan?”

  He looked down, almost sheepishly, and said nothing.

  Skylar sat waiting. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “I’ve had plenty of issues with cops,” Dylan said. “Diaz might have been there, or it might have been some other cop. I really don’t remember. It was more than eight months ago.”

  “Try eight weeks. You and Ethan really need to get your stories straight.”

  Dylan looked down, shaking his head. “So do you.” He gave her Barillas’ phone and she stared at for a moment before throwing it across the room. She angrily walked to the kitchenette counter and poured herself a large glass of water. After finishing it off, she headed back into the shop with a determined stride.

  Cesar Capellan was handcuffed and being detained in the far corner of the building until his ride to the station arrived. One of Barillas’ men approached her and asked, “Do you need something?”

  “I need to talk to him,” she said, noting the name on his shirt. “Any chance I could do that, Officer Ames?”

  He escorted her across the room and stopped her. Barillas was questioning Capellan, or perhaps The Chaplain, as Ethan had eagerly pointed out. They were seated across from each other, silently regarding one another, and accomplishing virtually nothing.

  Like Skylar, Capellan had a red stain on his shirt, but his was spreading and no one seemed to notice or care.

  Barillas leaned back in his seat. “Heard you had a bad dream, Skylar. Hope you’re not still worrying about JJ. I had a conversation with Ethan and he told me about the boy’s parents. I recommended taking him home and putting him to bed, after doctoring his wound, of course. I bet that little boy has nightmares all the time…with what he’s been through.”

  Skylar folded her arms over her chest. “Would you allow me to speak with Mr. Capellan? For just a moment?”

  “In regard to this case?”

  “Possibly.”

  Barillas heaved a sigh. “Normally I’d have to say no, but right now, I don’t see why not. Just try not to kill him, okay? I’m overdue for a break and a fourth cup of coffee.” He walked into the office with an empty mug in his hand.

  Capellan’s face was swollen. He had a dark, puffy eye that was going to be quite black tomorrow and his bottom lip was split and still bleeding.

  Good. Skylar liked seeing him this way, suffering at the hands of others. Not only were his wrists cuffed behind him, but his ankles were shackled too. He looked extremely uncomfortable, however, the detectives weren’t taking any chances, after hearing Skylar’s account.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Not having a good day?” He smiled like he knew something she didn’t.

  Skylar was getting pissed. After her conversation with Dylan, she needed to hit something hard and Capellan was the easiest target.

  “Ah, poor Pajarito. Did you get a little cut on your arm? Sorry about that. It should have been across your throat.”

  Skylar pulled back her fist and slugged him square in the jaw.

  Damn, that hurt!

  His head jerked to the side and he spat blood on the floor, but he turned back to her grinning with pink teeth.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted. “You’re just a tiny gnat, flittering around, annoying the hell out of everyone. Go back to where you came from, little bird…while you still can.”

  “Tell me something, Capellan,” she said. “Why is The Chaplain keeping a piece of shit like you around? Does he pay you to intimidate women?”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything to anyone.”

  “Really? I could have sworn that was you on the stairs with a knife at my throat, trying to kill me. But then if you did, he wouldn’t have been happy…because he’s not done with me yet. Is he?”

  Just shut the fuck up.” Capellan looked away, feigning disinterest.

  “You were talking to the detective about The Chaplain, weren’t you? I suggest telling me who he is. I’m going to meet him sooner or later anyway.”

  “The day you meet him is the day you die.”

  “If that’s true, then why are you still alive? Unless you’re his lover. Are you kissing The Chaplain’s ass, Cesar? Or just sucking his dick?”

  Capellan lunged at her but his restraints held him in place. His look of shear fury replaced her anger with fear. “You have no idea how easy it is to kill someone,” he said matter-of-factly. “Get in your little plane, get shot in the fucking head, and you’re dead. Just like that. It won’t matter if someone approves or not. There won’t be anyone around to notice. Now move on, little bird. You’re just wasting my time.”

  Skylar was preparing to strike him again when she was grabbed and thrown over a man’s shoulder. “Put me down!” she yelled. As Dylan carried her out, she kept yelling and kicking, trying to get away. “Put me down right now!”

  Dylan took her back into the side office and dropped her on a chair. He sighed when he saw the intense anger in her eyes. “We need to talk.”

  Skylar nodded at Barillas. He left, closing the door behind him. She put her feet firmly on the floor and stood up. “Where was Capellan when you were forced into a car with Vasquez and Julian?” she asked him again. “Where was he when you were forced to work for The Chaplain? Ethan said otherwise, but I know they�
�re not the same man. I just know it!”

  Dylan stepped forward. “This has to stop, Sky. There’s no sense in attacking me or anyone else. Just let the police do their job.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” she growled. “How can you defend all of them? Ethan acts like he’s in cahoots with The Chaplain…and Alvarez too. But he’s just a liar. Just like—”

  Dylan grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Listen to me. Sky. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She pushed him away from her. “Is that so? Why don’t you ask Capellan? He’s been tailing us…hiding his connection to The Chaplain. He even followed you to Roxy’s house so he could shoot her aunt, just to intimidate us. That’s how sick that fuck is.”

  “Oh, man,” Dylan said. “I need to call a doctor. You’re making zero sense. You must’ve hit your head hard when you fell…because you’re saying weird shit.”

  “You think so, huh? You know, I had a lot of faith in you. I thought you were a great guy. A real straight shooter who was forced into a bad situation. Not a liar who would say anything to get sympathy and—” The room was tilting. The air around her was getting warm, leaving her woozy. She pressed a hand against the wall and walked into the bathroom, taking her time. The mirror said it all. She looked like a mental patient that had been dropped on her head. Her face and hands were covered with dirt, her shirt was stained, and her hair was a tangled mess. She had demons and weaknesses. Her past and her future were jumbled together, twisting her head around.

  She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face, but the guilt over Roxy’s death still remained. It would always be there, a fracture in her existence, preventing her from being whole. But even worse, her father had destroyed her heart and continued to lie about it. There was simply no reaching him—no redeeming quality. He wouldn’t know what honesty was, even if it was served on silver platter.