by Sharon Sala
Benny was taken aback by their arrival. He knew her landlord had died, and where she was going, but he knew Jade Wyrick forgot nothing, and the only person who knew to look for her here was Charlie Dodge.
“She’s gone,” Benny said. “Sorry.”
“Oh my God, this is a disaster!” Alma cried, and then turned in a little circle with the envelope clutched against her chest. “Where did she go? Maybe we can messenger it to her?”
Benny frowned. “I don’t know where she goes. My job is to fuel up the chopper. That is all.”
Alma sighed. Dammit, it didn’t work. Then she looked at Ed and shrugged.
Benny thought that was going to be the end of that until the driver got out of the van and started toward him.
The man was twice his size and armed.
“Oh man,” Benny muttered, and turned to run, just as the man tackled him from behind.
Ed rolled until he had the mechanic on his back and pinned to the ground.
“You can tell me now, or I’ll beat it out of you,” Ed said.
“I have nothing to tell you,” Benny said. Then when he saw the fist coming toward him, he winced.
The impact broke his jaw and the man kept shouting, but he was past answers. Then everything went black.
Sixteen
“Don’t kill him!” Alma cried.
But Ed kept pounding on Benny’s head and body, until Alma slapped him on the back of the head.
“I said...don’t kill him, dammit!”
Ed flinched, then rolled off and got up.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Go look in the hangar and see if you can find anything to tell us where she was headed.”
Alma glanced around at the other hangars, then at the small office in the distance, and moaned.
“I can’t believe you did that. We need to get out of here!”
Ed grabbed her by the arm. “I said, go look for clues in the hangar!”
She ran inside, then into the small office, and began shoving papers off the desk, and then tearing through the drawers, but found nothing until she saw a clipboard hanging on the wall. It was the memo clipped on top that caught her attention.
Fuel to Galveston
“Okay, okay,” she muttered, and grabbed the memo from the clipboard and ran.
“I found something!” Alma cried, as she ran outside. “She’s going to Galveston.”
“Good work,” Ed said. “Get in the van. We’ll notify the boss on the way back to Dallas.”
Alma glanced back at the mechanic, lying motionless and bloody on the tarmac.
“What about him? Shouldn’t we call an ambulance or something?”
Ed slapped her across the face. “How stupid are you? No, we shouldn’t call an ambulance or something. He saw us.”
* * *
Unaware of the ensuing drama behind her, Wyrick was focused on the flight ahead and keeping a promise. The day was clear and cold in Dallas, but she was heading to warmer weather. Merlin didn’t like the cold, and he’d really felt it after he began chemo. Maybe that was part of why he wanted this to happen in Galveston, and she was happy she’d been given the task.
The trip was without issue all the way there, and as soon as she reached the helipad at Fort Crockett Boulevard, she set down to refuel and shut the chopper down. Once the tank was full for the trip back, she got out the drone she’d modified, then Merlin’s ashes, and crawled beneath the chopper to fasten it to the struts, checking it over and over to make sure it was in the right place to come free. Once she was satisfied, she climbed back into the cockpit and started up the engine, revved it to liftoff and went up, and out over Galveston Bay, then flying farther, out over the Gulf of Mexico.
Sunlight caught on the water’s surface like glitter strewn from the hand of God. It was so beautiful, and so serene in that moment it brought tears to Wyrick’s eyes. She pressed the power button on the remote, releasing the drone from the strut at the same time she took the chopper upward. Then she flew it in a wide circle back to watch the drone skimming only feet above the water. She could almost hear Merlin’s voice. Do it, Jade, do it.
She pushed the throttle forward on the remote and held her breath, watching as the drone nosed down into the glittering water, taking Merlin with it.
Watching it disappear beneath the waves was the finale to a life well lived. She was blinking back tears as she headed back toward shore. By the time she reached flying altitude, she was on her way back to Dallas.
* * *
Wyrick was a little over a hundred miles north of Galveston and flying over the Sam Houston National Forest when she caught a flash of movement to her right. With only seconds to react to the helicopter coming at her, and the man with the rifle hanging out of the cockpit, she made a sharp turn to the left trying to get out of the line of fire.
She was already on the radio calling out an SOS, relaying her call sign and coordinates, when the first bullet hit the cockpit. Then two more shots hit the chopper, sending it into a downward spin she could not control.
She kept repeating her coordinates and call sign, then finally added, “Call Charlie Dodge, my next of kin. Dodge Investigations out of Dallas.” Even though the transmission was beginning to break up, she kept relaying the SOS until the glass shattered in front of her, a searing pain tore through her shoulder and then her leg, and everything went black.
Wyrick was unconscious and the cockpit was tilting sideways when the rotors tore through the treetops, then hit the ground and broke apart like heat-seeking missiles, slicing through everything in their paths.
She came to still strapped into her seat, lying on her side within a growing cloud of smoke, with the electrical wiring sparking and popping as it began to catch fire. Her shoulder was burning, and one leg was gushing blood. When she tried to unbuckle herself, she almost passed out.
The fact that she had not died in this crash was a miracle, and she didn’t intend to let it go to waste. She had to stop the bleeding or she would die before she got out. She didn’t know how it worked, but she knew thinking about herself whole and healthy worked, and so she did.
She waited, afraid to move, and then the smoke got worse and she was beginning to choke and cough. Left with no choice, and even though she was still strapped into her seat, she began trying to release all the straps holding her into the seat, with only one good hand and arm.
Gritting her teeth against the waves of pain-filled nausea, she finally found the release. As soon as she was free, she fell the rest of the way down onto the ground floor of the forest. Blocking out everything but making her body move, she finally got to her feet, with one arm dangling at her side. She could feel a bullet hole on the front of her chest, but didn’t know if there was an exit wound. What she did know was that the bleeding had stopped, but she didn’t know for how long. At this point, her choices weren’t good. Burn up, bleed out, or get out.
She was coughing nonstop now, and her eyes were watering so badly she was left to feel her way out. The windshield was shattered, but the heat was greatest there, so she began climbing, using the seat backs as steps, pulling herself up with her one good arm, until she felt the door handle above her.
She turned it and pushed up, but it didn’t budge. Bracing one foot on the instrument panel and her other foot on her seat, she bent over, bracing her back against the door, then pushed upward again, and all of a sudden it was open.
She was gasping for breath as she pulled herself up, and then crawled out onto the overturned cockpit. But once out of the cockpit, the smoke around her was dispersing enough that she could see. She started to slide off the side and fell. Landing on her wounded shoulder, she passed out from the pain.
It was heat from the flames that woke her again, but when she tried to get up and run, her leg wouldn’t hold her, so she started dragging herself w
ith one arm, grabbing anything she could hold to pull herself along, and crawled away from the crash site until she could go no farther, then rolled over onto her back.
From what she could tell, she’d come down in thick forest, somewhere near a creek, because she could hear running water. She’d lost all track of time. The bits of sky she could see through the canopy told her there was still daylight, but she didn’t know for how much longer, or if it was even the same day.
If they tell him, Charlie will find me...alive or dead... Charlie will find me.
The blind faith she had in him was constant, and it was the last thought she had before she lost consciousness again.
* * *
An airport employee found Benny Garcia and called an ambulance and the police. By the time they got him to a Dallas hospital, the police had confiscated the video from the security cameras with some good shots of the license tag on the van, and of the assailants who’d been in it. They were running facial recognition on the man and woman, and had a BOLO out on the van when Benny came out of surgery. He had not regained consciousness, but he was alive.
* * *
Charlie was kicked back in his recliner watching football when noontime came and went. But by the time it was nearly 2:00 p.m. and he still hadn’t heard a thing from Wyrick, he was beginning to worry. He sent a text she didn’t answer, and his call went to voice mail. And then twenty minutes later, his phone rang.
“Thank God,” he muttered, assuming it was her.
Then he realized he’d left the phone in the kitchen and got up running to answer it. His relief was short-lived when he saw it was the FAA instead.
“Hello?”
“This is Loren Franklin. I work for the FAA. May I speak to Charlie Dodge?”
“This is Charlie.”
“Mr. Dodge, we got an SOS from a chopper pilot named Jade Wyrick. She was in distress and going down, and said to notify you as next of kin.”
Charlie’s mind went blank. She was his last anchor to sanity and this couldn’t be happening. He’d just lost Annie. He couldn’t lose her, too.
“No,” Charlie groaned, and dropped to his knees. “Where did it happen? Where did she go down?”
“We haven’t found the crash site yet. Her voice was breaking up during her last communication and we aren’t certain of her final location.”
He rocked back on his heels as if he’d been sucker punched.
“Are you saying she isn’t dead?”
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you that impression. But the last thing we heard clearly from her was to notify you it was happening, and that you were her next of kin.”
All of a sudden, his world rocked back in place. He was on his feet and reaching for a pen and paper.
“I’m flying down. Can you tell me where they’re setting up the search?”
“Yes, but—”
“Just tell me,” Charlie said, and then took down all of the information she could give him, along with some contact numbers for rangers, and then disconnected and ran to his office to do an online search for charter pilots.
He called two before he found one who was available—a pilot named Billy Wright, who also ran a flight school.
“When do you need to go?” Billy asked.
“Now,” Charlie said. “It would take me about thirty minutes to get to your location.”
“I’ll fuel up. We can leave as soon as you get here.”
“I’m on the way,” Charlie said, and ran to change. He couldn’t believe this nightmare was happening, or that the search for her would be in another national park.
He grabbed his camping pack, dumped the tent, added clothes, shoved a couple of bottles of water and some protein bars in beside the gear, and left on the run.
Once he got out on the freeway, he thought of Benny waiting for her at the hangar. But when he called that number, the man who answered wasn’t Benny.
“Hello.”
“Uh, hello... I need to speak to Benny,” Charlie said.
“Who’s calling?”
“This is Charlie Dodge. It’s important that I speak to him. Who is this?”
“I’m Officer DuPlane, Dallas PD. Benny Garcia was found badly beaten and unconscious at this location, and has been taken to a hospital. How do you know him?”
Charlie’s gut knotted. This didn’t feel like a coincidence. “Through Jade Wyrick, who owns that hangar and the Bell Jet chopper she keeps in it. Benny is her mechanic. I’m a private investigator, and Jade works for me. I was just notified that her chopper crashed today. I needed to let Benny know, but now I obviously can’t. I’m on my way to the crash site. I don’t know anything more. Sorry.”
He disconnected to concentrate on his driving and arrived at the flight school in just under thirty minutes.
A short, stocky man in his late forties was standing in the doorway of the office when Charlie parked and got out.
“I’m Charlie Dodge. Are you Billy?”
“Yes, sir. Pay the lady in the office and we’ll be good to go.”
Charlie hurried inside, then came out running.
“This way,” Billy said, and then led the way out to the chopper sitting on a helipad.
Charlie handed him the coordinates, and within minutes, they were in the air and flying south.
It felt like an eternity trying to get there, and every minute that passed, Charlie kept thinking of the few times he’d seen her smile, the love affair she had with Snickers candy bars and Pepsi, the things she did to make his life easier, the true brilliance of her mind, and her unwavering loyalty.
He kept picturing her alive somewhere and waiting for him to find her. She knew he wouldn’t quit until he did, but he didn’t know if he’d find her in time.
When they finally began approaching their destination, Billy pointed.
“We’re almost there. Are you gonna need a ride back?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “It all depends.”
“You’ve got my number. I’ll make time to pick you up if you need it,” Billy said.
“Thanks. I’ll call if I do.”
As soon as they landed, Charlie was out and running toward the command post, and stopped the first ranger he saw.
“I’m Charlie Dodge. The pilot of the downed chopper works for me. Are searchers already out?”
“Yes, sir. There are three different teams. They left about twenty minutes ago.”
Charlie groaned. “I’m going in. What are the GPS coordinates?”
“Mr. Dodge, I would suggest you just—”
“No. I’m a private investigator. I specialize in finding people who’ve gone missing. She knows I’ll come looking for her. It’s what I do. So give me the GPS coordinates, or I’m going in cold.”
The ranger nodded. “Understood. This is what we were given.”
Charlie entered the coordinates into his GPS, then followed the ranger into a tent and to a large map of the forest they’d spread out on the table.
“This is the general location of the last coordinates, and this is where we are. Take the trail up past this tent and head north by northeast. You might catch up with some of the searchers. Do you have a two-way with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tune in to this channel and frequency and you’ll hear feedback from the other searchers as you go.”
“Thank you,” Charlie said, as he set the frequencies, then shifted his backpack and started running, carrying the two-way as he went.
He ran full out along the trail in an effort to catch up with a search party, splashing through creeks and sending small animals scurrying into the underbrush.
He’d been on the trail for almost fifteen minutes when he began hearing voices and stopped, his heart pounding as he tried to locate the sounds. He checked his GPS to see how far
he still had to go and then left the trail, heading into the forest until he walked up on a group of searchers. Once he introduced himself, he began peppering them with questions.
“Has anyone found debris?” Charlie asked.
The team leader, a man who went by the name of Tulsa, shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said, and then eyed Charlie closer. “I know who you are. You’re the guy who finds missing kids.”
Charlie nodded. “Missing people in general, but yes. And the woman you’re all looking for works for me. She’s my partner and office manager.”
“Damn. Really sorry,” Tulsa said.
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s just find her. If anyone can live through a chopper going down, it will be her.”
They took off with renewed energy. The search had become personal and time mattered.
It was going on twenty minutes later when one of them shouted and then radioed.
Found a piece of the tail section.
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. They had to be closing in on the location now if they were finding debris. He began moving at a faster pace again, moving forward, keeping an eye out for more debris, looking up in the trees as well as on the ground.
And then someone else radioed.
Found a piece of one of the rotors.
Then another one radioed.
Found a cockpit door.
And every piece they found was giving Charlie a clearer picture of the last seconds of Wyrick’s fall. It took everything he had to stay focused and keep moving.
He smelled the smoke first, then the scent from a crash site that a soldier never forgets, and started running, unaware others were running with him.
They found the cockpit lying on its side, and still smoldering. But it was the bullet holes that stopped his heart.
“Son of a bitch! They shot her down!”
He grabbed an upended strut and began climbing to the open door. He was afraid to look inside. Then when he did, his heart skipped.
