No Return

by Brett Battles

  More pitchers of beer arrived, and the focus moved from Wes to Dione to Danny, and, inevitably, to Monroe.

  “I know I’m not supposed to talk about it, but,” Monroe said, the glaze of alcohol in her eyes, “my agent thinks I have the inside shot at a pilot for ABC.”

  “Really? That’s great,” Dione said. “What’s it about?”

  Monroe looked around the table. “You’ve got to keep this to yourself.”

  “Of course,” Dione spoke for the group.

  “It’s an update of Mork and Mindy.”

  Danny nearly spit his beer across the table. “Mork and Mindy? Are you serious?”

  “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

  “Who’s going to play Mork?” Danny asked.

  “See, that’s the twist. In the remake … Mork’s a woman!”

  Everyone stared at her.

  “So are you saying you’re going to play Mork?” Anna asked slowly.

  “Well, the character’s name is different, of course. I’m not allowed to tell anyone that. But, yeah. That’s the part I’m up for.”

  The silence that followed had almost reached the awkward point when Dione said, “Couldn’t be happier for you, Monroe.” Even halfway to drunk, she was able to fake it for the show’s host.

  Monroe beamed.

  “We should celebrate,” Dione suggested.

  A devilish looked entered Monroe’s eyes. “Tequila shots! A hundred bucks to whoever drinks the most.”

  There were groans and averted gazes around the table. All, that is, except for Dione. Her eyes narrowed as she announced, “You’re on, Morkette. Tony, get the waitress.”

  Six shots arrived a few minutes later and the two women matched each other glass for glass.

  As they were waiting for another round, Wes stood up and headed to the men’s room. The bar had filled up a bit more, so he had to navigate around several groups before he entered the hallway that led to the restrooms.

  “How do you think you get up there?”

  Wes looked back. He hadn’t realized Danny had followed him. “Up where?”

  “On the wall. The pictures of the planes and the crews. Think you have to be regulars here?” Danny opened the bathroom door and let Wes pass through. “You know, like the shamrocks at Tom Bergin’s back home on Fairfax. Or do you have to do something special?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Danny finished first, washed his hands, then headed for the door. “You coming?”

  “Go ahead,” Wes said. “I’ll be right there.”

  Wes stared into the mirror as he finished washing up. The photos. What if the pilot he’d seen at the crash was in one of them? If he was, Wes could show the picture to Lars as proof that he hadn’t been seeing things.

  He exited the bathroom with purpose, intent on closely examining the walls, but was immediately derailed when he found Anna standing in the hallway outside the women’s bathroom. She started shaking her head the moment she saw him.

  “Where’s the paparazzi when you need them?” she asked.

  “What’s going on?”

  She motioned toward the bathroom door. “Monroe is doing a little unintentional weight reduction.”

  “Oh, God.”

  There was a muffled retch from beyond the door, followed by, “Don’t worry. You’re not going to fall in.”

  “Dione?” Wes asked.

  Anna nodded. “Best-friend duty. Though she’s not that much better off herself. Help me take them back to the hotel?”

  “Sure.”

  A few minutes later the door opened and Monroe and Dione staggered into the hallway, but not before bumping into the door frame and breaking out in laughter.

  “Hey, Wes,” Dione said.

  “Wes!” Monroe echoed, none the worse for her time hovering above the toilet.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” Wes said. “We’re going to head back to the motel. You want to come with us?”

  Monroe shook her head. “Too early. I want to—” She stumbled against the wall, then closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Maybe that would be a good idea.”

  It turned out that everyone except Danny was ready to head back.

  Wes took control of Monroe, while Anna and Alison acted as Dione’s guides. By the time they reached Monroe’s room, she was telling Wes what a great guy he was, how cute he was in that older, mid-thirties kind of way, and outright offering him a spot in her bed that night.

  Wes politely declined, then waited outside as Anna and Alison dealt with getting Close to Home’s star under the covers. Dione had waited with him for a few minutes, trying not to sway, then wandered off to her own room before the other two women came back out.

  “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Alison said, then yawned.

  “Don’t do that,” Anna said. She tried unsuccessfully to keep from yawning herself. “Fine. I’m officially tired.”

  They started walking together in the direction of Anna’s and Alison’s rooms. First, though, they reached the corridor that led out to the parking lot and the side of the hotel where Wes’s room was located. They paused there.

  “You guys sleep well,” Wes said. “I have a feeling some people are going to be cranky tomorrow.”

  “Think I’ll be asleep before I even get in my room,” Alison said.

  “I know the feeling,” Anna said.

  But no one made the first move. Wes and Anna exchanged a glance while Alison leisurely hunted through her purse for her key.

  Finally, Wes said, “All right. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

  He headed off down the hallway without looking back. When he got to his room, his motel phone was ringing.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re going to have to tell her.” It was Anna.

  “I know. I know,” he said. “Did she say anything?”

  “Come on, Wes. She didn’t have to.”

  Wes frowned. Telling Alison about his relationship with Anna was not something he was looking forward to. “I’ll try to find time tomorrow.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea.” She paused. “So … you want me to come over?”

  “Absolutely. You still have the extra key I gave you, right?”

  “Why? Aren’t you going to be there?”

  “I thought maybe I should go back and check on Danny.”

  “Danny? He can take care of himself.”

  Wes laughed loudly.

  “Fine,” she said. “But he is old enough to take care of himself.”

  “I won’t be long,” he said. “I’ll make sure he’s fine, then come right back. Wait for me here?”

  She was silent for a moment. “If I’m asleep when you come in, you’re not getting any.”

  WHAT WES REALLY WANTED TO DO WAS TAKE A look at the pictures in the bar and see if he could find one with the pilot in it. He knew he should have just told Anna that, but until he found his proof, he felt it was better if he kept it to himself. No one wants to come off as a conspiracy nut.

  In the forty-five minutes it had taken to get Monroe settled and then walk back to the bar, the crowd at Delta Sierra’s had doubled, and the sound level had gone up exponentially.

  Wes spotted Danny right away. He had moved to the bar and seemed to have made a couple of new friends—two women who were in at least their mid-thirties, but dressed like they were still in high school. Thankfully, though, they were monopolizing all of Danny’s attention, so Wes’s return went unnoticed.

  Wes started with the wall closest to the main door. Though some photos were in color, most were black-and-white. Where there was any terrain visible, he saw the unmistakable desert of the Mojave, plains of nothingness and in the distance barren hills and mountains.

  Wes’s eyes darted from frame to frame, searching for the face he’d seen. There were a couple of possibilities in some of the group shots, but these were so small, he couldn’t be sure.

  He’d gone about a third of the way t
hrough the room when he found an empty spot. Despite a thin layer of dust on the surrounding wall, the spot was clean. Whatever had been hanging there had been removed recently.

  He finished the back wall and started making his way along the one that led toward the bar. Two more empty spots, one on top of the other. Recent.

  “Wes! You came back!”

  Wes winced. A part of him had been hoping he could avoid Danny, but no go. He put on a smile and walked over to the bar. “Came to see how you were doing.”

  “Me? I’m great. This place is awesome.” Danny was standing between stools occupied by his new female friends, and definitely drunk. “Hey, let me introduce you.”

  The two women turned toward Wes, smiling.

  “Ladies, this is my buddy Wes. He’s the one I was telling you about. Wes, this is Regina.” Danny tipped his beer toward the woman with a too-friendly look in her eyes.

  She held out her hand and Wes shook it. But when he went to let go, she resisted for a moment, then stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout when he finally pulled his hand free.

  Danny put a familiar arm around the other woman. “And this is Dori.”

  She shook Wes’s hand, mercifully with no lingering touch.

  “Danny told us what you did,” Regina said. “That was very brave.”

  “Let us buy you something to drink,” Dori said.

  “I’m fine,” Wes told her. “Thanks, though.”

  “That wasn’t a question,” Dori said, then caught the bartender’s attention and got Wes a beer.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Regina lifted her glass. “To the hero.”

  “I’m not a hero.”

  “To the hero,” Dori repeated.

  Wes clinked glasses with everyone, then raised the pint to his mouth. He let the liquid brush his lips, but he refrained from actually taking a drink.

  “So, what were you doing?” Dori asked.

  “Pardon?” Wes said.

  She nodded toward the room beyond the bar. “You were checking out the walls.”

  “Who was checking out the walls?” Danny asked, a bit unsteady.

  “Your friend. He was walking around the room, staring at them.”

  Wes shrugged. “I wasn’t staring. I was just taking a look at the pictures.”

  “See anything interesting?” Regina asked.

  “A bunch of pilots and planes,” Wes said.

  Regina reached out and put her arm around Wes’s waist. “Want to share the stool, sweetie?”

  He pulled himself back. “Actually, I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Her hand lingered on his hip. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Wes angled himself through a break in the growing crowd and headed toward the restrooms. Just before the hallway, he turned to the left and finished examining the wall near the bar.

  Nothing.

  Whoever the pilot in the downed F-18 had been, his picture wasn’t here.

  Disappointed, Wes made a wide circle around the bar, avoiding Danny and his friends, and headed quickly for the exit. Just as he reached the far side, someone grabbed his arm.

  “Thought you were coming back.”

  He turned to find Dori standing behind him.

  “I’m tired,” he said. “Gotta work early tomorrow.”

  “Danny doesn’t seem worried about it.”

  “He’ll pay for it in the morning.”

  “I think Regina likes you.”

  “I’m sure she’s very nice,” Wes said, “but I’m attached.”

  Dori frowned. “Kind of attached, or very attached?”

  “Very.”

  “Really? Well, that’s good news,” she said, then added, “not for Regina, of course.”

  Wes faked a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Will you?”

  “Good night, Dori. It was nice meeting you.”

  She regarded him for a moment. “Bye, Wes.” She disappeared back into the crowd.

  As Wes turned for the door, something on the wall behind the bar caught his eye. He stepped closer to get a better look. It was a framed photograph of Lieutenant Lawrence Adair, the same shot that had been in the paper. There was a black ribbon around the frame and several candles burning below it.

  That’s when it dawned on Wes. The missing photos on the walls, they must have also been of Adair. Taken down out of respect.

  So where was Wes’s pilot?

  He frowned to himself, then straightened up. It had been worth a try.

  After a quick glance back at the bar, he started to turn for the door, but paused. Someone had been looking in his direction. He turned back to see who it was, and was surprised to find Lieutenant Jenks, one of the pilots from the previous evening, staring back at him. The lieutenant smiled and raised his glass, tilting it in Wes’s direction.

  With a nod of acknowledgment, Wes turned back toward the door and left.

  ANNA WAS ASLEEP WHEN WES RETURNED, BUT stirred when the start-up tone rang out as he booted up his laptop.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, barely able to keep her eyelids open.

  “Go back to sleep. I just want to check something.”

  “You did understand what I said about no sex, right?”

  “Right, if you’re asleep. I promise to wake you first.”

  A pillow flew across the room, landing near his feet. “Not what I meant.”

  He put his computer on the small motel-room desk, then walked over to the bed.

  “Get away from me.” She giggled as she pulled the covers over her head.

  He started to pull them down, but she held on tight, putting up a fight.

  “I’ll scream,” she said.

  “So will I,” he said. “I’ll claim you snuck in here and surprised me. I’ll say that you’ve been stalking me, then we’ll have to get a restraining order, and that’ll just make this relationship thing all the more difficult.”

  She struggled with him some more, but he was able to inch the blanket down below her chin. He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips remained pressed tightly together for several moments, then they began to soften and part.

  Finally she whispered, “You never told me what your mother said when you told her.”

  Wes kissed her again. “She said no woman is good enough for her son.” Another kiss. “Of course, I told her that you were already aware of your inadequacies.”

  “Oh, really.” She kissed him deeply. “Maybe you can detail them for me.”

  “Happy to.” He smiled. “Just give me a few minutes to check something.”

  “Ugh,” she said, pushing him off. “You really know how to kill the mood.”

  “Not kill it,” he said, standing up. “Just put it on ice for a few minutes.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It’s all about anticipation.”

  As he sat back down at the desk, a second pillow sailed through the air and hit him in the back.

  Wes accessed the footage from the camera auto-backup drive. He wanted to see what Danny had shot of the crash. The night before, there had been no real reason to look at it. But now, after the picture in the newspaper, and his fruitless search of the pictures at the bar, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t crazy.

  The first shots were just B-roll stuff of the Pinnacles. Then there was the wide shot of Monroe standing next to the unusual rock formations. This went on for nearly thirty seconds before the image swung quickly to the left, then down at the ground.

  Suddenly the picture whipped up and focused on the sky. Center frame was the plane. The image held for five seconds, then cut off.

  The next shot started with a jolt. Shadows. Car mats. Shoes. Then the dash of the Highlander, and the desert outside. The picture bounced and jerked with the movement of the car.

  Another shot. Still inside the SUV, this time with burning vegetation on all sides. In the distance was the back of the Escape Wes had been drivi
ng, and beyond that the cloud of dust and smoke that enveloped the plane.

  The final shot started in the car, but the chaotic motion was gone. Suddenly the door opened and the picture moved outside. The frame moved up and down as the image quickly approached the downed jet, then steadied once it was in position.

  It spun to the right and focused on Wes trying to get up to the cockpit, then caught his miscalculation as he nearly fell off. The image stayed on Wes while he pulled himself back up and leaned into the cockpit. Unfortunately, Danny had positioned himself so that Wes blocked the view of the pilot from the camera.

  “Dammit,” Wes whispered.

  Danny sped forward, keeping the pace just slow enough so he could get an idea of what was going on. But the whole time there was no clear shot of the pilot.

  Then Danny had followed him with the camera as he’d made his dash for the knife.

  “For God’s sakes, Danny,” Wes said.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

  Wes watched himself race past burning brush for the SUV. Anna ran out to meet him, handing him the knife. Then, as he turned to go, Dione stopped him.

  As Wes pushed past her and headed back toward the plane, the image panned quickly to the cockpit, then swung back to pick up Wes again.

  Wes rewound to the cockpit shot, then hit Pause.

  The image of the man’s face was there for only a few frames before he turned his head to look back at Wes on the wing. Wes clicked through, frame by frame. Five total. NTSC, the video format used in the United States, ran at approximately thirty frames a second, which meant the man’s face was on camera for only one-sixth of a second.

  Wes studied each frame separately, but they were too blurry to distinguish anything. He then looped them so that they’d play over and over. In motion, unlike still images, there was just enough to get an idea of what the pilot looked like.

  He did have to admit that it didn’t definitively prove it wasn’t Lieutenant Adair, but to his eyes, he was sure the man in the shot wasn’t the same man whose picture had run in the paper.

  “I thought you said you were only going to be a few minutes,” Anna said.

  “I am.”