Tailspin

by Sandra Brown

  Rye said, “No farther until I know who the hell you are.”

  “Jake Morton.”

  Then he saluted Rye.

  Violet

  I get to sleep in my own bed tonight. It has softer pillows than at the hospital. They call it a hotel, but who are they kidding? It’s really a hospital, just without bright lights. Only sick people stay there. I’m on the floor for kids with cancer. Mom and I stay there while I get radiation. I hate radiation. But I don’t have to think about it again till Wednesday.

  I get to be at home for four nights, or maybe five. Mom said she wants Dr. O’Neal to be the one to say when I should go back. Dr. O’Neal wasn’t there when I got sent home.

  Here’s what happened. I was taking a nap. I woke up when people came in my room. One was a man who is a senator. His wife’s name was Mrs. Hunt. She had red lipstick and blond hair. They talked to me in soft voices, and smiled the whole time, and she said I was adorable. He patted my shoulder and told me I deserved a medal for being so brave.

  Does he think I’m a soldier? He must be really dumb.

  When I whispered that to Mom, she shushed me and said she would explain later, but she never got to, because the senator’s wife wouldn’t stop talking except when she had her picture taken. She asked me if I was excited about being on TV. I said, “Yes, ma’am,” because Mom was looking at me with her “Use your manners” face. Mrs. Hunt told me to wave to the cameras, so I did, because I didn’t want to make her mad. She acted like the boss of everybody.

  There was a couch on the airplane for me to lay on. I didn’t throw up. The lady in the dark blue dress brought me a ginger ale. I didn’t drink all of it. She kept asking me if I wanted something else, but I didn’t.

  When we got off the plane, more people were there to take pictures. We rode home in a long white car like when we drove to the airplane. Two policemen went ahead of us on motorcycles.

  Lots of people were in our yard. They were taking pictures, too. I was too tired to wave this time. I only wanted to see my dad. He ran out the front door and down the steps and hugged me. He had to pick up Cy and hold him because he was barking at the TV people.

  My room has lots of balloons in it. My brother popped one. Daddy told him to settle down.

  The doctor—not Dr. O’Neal, my first doctor—came in and checked me over. A nurse is spending the night in our house.

  Everybody left my room except Daddy. He sat on the bed. He asked me about the airplane ride. I told him about the couch and the ginger ale. He rubbed my head and told me he could feel hair growing back, but I know there’s none there. I smiled anyway.

  He leaned down and kissed my cheek, then wished me good night and told me to rest because tomorrow was going to be a big day. He left before I could see that he was about to cry. He thinks I don’t know that he cries sometimes, but I do. Kids are a whole lot smarter than grown-ups think.

  I can hear my brothers in their room. They’re fussing over a video game. Mom and the nurse and now Daddy, too, are having cake and coffee in the kitchen. They moved Cy’s bed to my room. He’s asleep in it. Since I got sick, he’s the only one who has stayed normal and doesn’t treat me different.

  Daddy told me I was in for a big surprise tomorrow. I think it’s that Dr. O’Neal will be here when I wake up. I wonder if the senator and his wife got her permission to send me home. If they didn’t, she’s going to be mad, because, more than anything, she wants me to get well.

  I sure hope I do. If I die, she’s going to be so disappointed.

  Chapter 24

  10:22 p.m.

  When Rye was saluted, he fell back a step as though he’d been struck. “Cut that shit out.”

  Jake Morton smiled amicably. “Okay. But climb in. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “Thanks all the same,” Rye said, “but I won’t be responsible for getting you into trouble.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Mallett. Non-negotiable.” Jake glanced beyond them toward the bar. “That cop won’t be peeing forever.”

  Relenting, Rye gave Brynn a nod. They all got into the car, Brynn and Rye in back. Jake wasted no time putting several blocks’ distance between them and the bar, then asked where they wanted to go.

  Rye said, “Just take us over to the airport. Drop us outside baggage claim. Somewhere near the taxi line.”

  Jake said, “Seriously, name the place. I’ll take you.”

  “Can’t do it,” Rye said. “Someone might have seen you leave with us. If you’re asked later, you can honestly say you left us at the airport. After that, you don’t know.”

  “Is this business with the police that serious?”

  “No. But her patient is.”

  Jake looked at Brynn in the rearview mirror. She said, “I can’t discuss it, but it really is a life-or-death matter.”

  Jake gave a solemn nod. “Airport it is.”

  “You fly?” Rye asked.

  “Oh, yeah. I have a Bonanza.”

  “Sweet.”

  “Mine’s older, but refurbished. Put in a new engine two years ago. I was off today. Hadn’t been for the fog, I would’ve taken her for a spin.”

  “What’s your day job?”

  He laughed. “Flying.” He named the freight carrier he flew for.

  Brynn and Rye looked at each other. He raised his eyebrows as though asking her if Jake was their man. She was about to nod yes when Jake said, “I fly at zero zero thirty. Quick round trip to KC. Back by breakfast.”

  Which meant that he wasn’t available tonight, and Brynn realized she was disappointed. She liked Jake Morton. She got a sense that Rye did, too.

  He asked, “How did you know me? Have we crossed paths?”

  “I was in Afghanistan same time you were.”

  Rye tensed up, the change in him drastic enough for Brynn to feel. Jake kept talking. “I flew C-130s in and out of Bagram. Troops. Pallets of water. Jeeps. You name it. Didn’t fly into the worst of the shit like you did, but I heard all the stories. Never thought I’d get to meet you.”

  Rye turned his head away and looked out the window, saying in a subdued voice, “Thanks for your help tonight.”

  “No problem. I consider it an honor.”

  The airport traffic was more congested than usual, but Jake inched his car toward the curb, then lurched into a space left by a departing minivan. Rye opened the back seat door on the passenger side. “Don’t bother getting out, Jake. We need to hustle.”

  “Understood.” Seeing that Rye was about to remove the ball cap and give it back, he said, “Keep it, but I would like to shake your hand.” He stuck out his hand over the seat back.

  Rye reached forward and they shook.

  Jake said, “There’s not a flyer in the world who wouldn’t understand how you felt. Also not one in the world who wouldn’t buy you a beer. In a heartbeat.”

  Rye held his gaze for several beats, then said brusquely, “Take care of yourself.”

  Brynn scooted over and got out. Rye shut the car door, tapped the roof twice, and Jake drove away.

  The encounter had started and ended with such abruptness, it seemed surreal, but Brynn knew that the parting exchange between the two men had been significant to each of them. Brynn wished she could ask Rye about it, but this wasn’t the time or place.

  Police were everywhere.

  Fortunately the officers were overwhelmed by the motor and pedestrian traffic and were industriously keeping it under some semblance of control. Trying not to draw attention to themselves, she and Rye joined the taxi line, shuffling forward a few feet at a time.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “You were eager to wash your hands of me.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, too.”

  “I could still rent a car and drive myself to Knoxville.”

  “You could. And watch for Goliad and Timmy to show up in the rearview mirror. Or, because you’d be on the lookout for them, it would prob
ably be a pair of new players. You wouldn’t see them coming before it was too late.”

  “The Hunts wouldn’t order my execution, Rye.”

  He snickered. “For what’s inside your coat pocket? Get real, Brynn. Young women disappear all the time. You’d be publicly mourned by Lambert, but he would console himself with his influx of cash. Hunt would have his GX-42, and your life would be written off as a small cost of doing business.”

  “That’s cynical.”

  “That’s life. Bad guys thrive. Good ones die.”

  She wondered if he was referring to war buddies. “Who, specifically?”

  “Let’s hope not Brady White.”

  Heeding Jake’s advice, he wasn’t wearing his jacket, but he patted down one of the pockets and took out his cell phone. He asked Siri for a number and had her call it for him. Brynn listened in.

  “Howardville Community Hospital. How may I direct your call?”

  “I’m a friend of Brady White’s. I heard he’d taken a downturn. Can you give me an update on his condition, please?”

  “I’ll connect you to the OR. You can speak to the charge nurse.”

  “He’s in surgery?”

  “If…if you’ll hold, sir, I’ll check to see what his status is. Please stay on the line.”

  Rye disconnected and said to Brynn, “This morning the lady in the ER wouldn’t tell me anything. This one tried to keep me on the line. Which means they’re tracing the calls.”

  “At least we know Brady is still alive.”

  “That’s something. That’s huge. But we still have the problem of getting you to Violet.”

  “I’m open to ideas.”

  “First, we acquire new phones.” With sleight of hand, he silenced the phone he’d just used and dropped it into a nearby trash can. “Sooner or later that number will be attributed to me by the Howardville SO. Which means it will be fed to Wilson and Rawlins, and they’ll share it with the Atlanta PD. If they track it, they’ll be looking for me here, while I’m somewhere else. If I can get this frigging line moving.”

  He looked toward the front of it, as though calculating how long it would be until their turn. He was still wearing the ball cap, which kept anyone except Brynn from seeing how his eyes were constantly sweeping the crowded area, looking for a sign that they’d been spotted by someone in uniform.

  “What are you thinking of doing?” she asked. “Returning to the hotel?”

  He shared his concerns about security cameras getting the license plate number of the Uber car they’d taken from the garage to the hotel. “But I don’t have a choice except to go back. I left my flight bag behind.”

  He gauged the length of the line again. “We’re sitting ducks here. What we really need to do is scare up some wheels. We got lucky with Jake, but guardian angels don’t come around that often, and using taxis and hiring cars is risky.

  “Do you know anyone who would lend you a car on short notice, late on Thanksgiving night, without asking too many questions? Someone you trust? Fellow doctor? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

  She shifted her gaze away from him.

  “Welllll,” he said. “That was like a puff of cold air on an aching tooth. There’s a man in your life?”

  “Past tense.”

  She tried to avoid looking at him directly, but he followed the evasive motions of her eyes. “Husband?”

  “We weren’t married.”

  “But a serious relationship.”

  “We lived together for a while.”

  “Huh.” His eyes were shadowed by the cap’s bill, but she could sense their intensity on her face. “Your recent kissing ban. Is it because of him?”

  With heat behind it, she asked, “If he can help us, does it matter?”

  He turned aside and muttered something she thought it was probably just as well she didn’t catch, then came back to her with an indifferent shrug. “When you have a dead stick, you look for somewhere to land, and anyplace will do.”

  10:47 p.m.

  “So you’re Timmy.”

  The former gang member stood accused before a very harsh judge. Richard Hunt looked at him with scorn.

  Delores had to agree that Timmy did make for a sorry sight, especially standing beside Goliad, who, as usual, looked handsome and was in total command of himself. Timmy was listing to his left, and his face bore gruesome evidence of the beating he’d received from Rye Mallett.

  “This first job was an audition of sorts,” Richard said. “I’m not impressed by your performance so far. People who work for me in this specialized capacity do so under the radar. Stealthily. Do you even know what that word means? It means they don’t commit reckless and stupid acts that bring hillbilly deputies to my home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Goliad stepped forward. “Timmy acted impulsively, sir, but in self-defense.”

  Timmy jerked his head around and practically snarled at Goliad, “And you just stood there like a stump and let him have at me!”

  “Because I’m too smart to get in the way of a knife,” Goliad returned calmly.

  Delores stepped in. “Gentlemen, this finger pointing is getting us nowhere, and it’s taking up precious time that we do not have. The only thing I really want to hear is that you have located Dr. O’Neal.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no, we haven’t,” Goliad said.

  Richard cursed under his breath.

  Head down, arms folded, Delores made a circuit of the room, then stopped in front of Timmy. “Will you excuse us, please?”

  He cocked his head warily, his ears practically twitching like an animal sensing a predator. “What for?”

  “Because I believe you need an Advil, and the housekeeper has some in the kitchen.” Delores gave him her sweetest smile. “Goliad will be along in a moment.”

  Timmy’s eyes narrowed. He knew he was being dismissed, but he didn’t have much choice except to go quietly. He was already on quicksand with Richard.

  “Which way?”

  She motioned him through the double doorway. “Stay left. You can’t miss it.”

  He gave Goliad a resentful glance over his shoulder, but he went as told. Delores pulled the doors closed behind him.

  Richard asked Goliad, “How much does he know about this situation?”

  “Because doctors are involved, he guessed that the contents of the box were medical-related. But he doesn’t know any more than that.”

  “Keep it that way,” Richard said. “You’re the only person in our entire organization that we’ve entrusted with the seriousness of the situation. We must get that drug from Dr. O’Neal.”

  “I understand.”

  “I think we should pull Timmy off the detail,” Richard continued. “For the time being, anyway. He’s a loose cannon. If his particular talents are called for later, we know where to find him.”

  “I agree,” Delores said without hesitation. “Knife fights? Jesus. I don’t care how provoking that pilot was.” To Goliad she said, “Make it sound like we’re worried about his injuries. Tell him to take the rest of the night off and go to bed. You’ll call him tomorrow to see if he’s fit to come back to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Richard said, “Now to the other matter. Where the hell is Dr. O’Neal?”

  Goliad braced himself before answering. “We’ve looked in all the logical places. Her office. The areas of the hospital where she works. Her house. It’s locked up tight. We tried tracing her phone. No luck this time. I’m sure she—more likely Mallett—saw to that.”

  “Nate gave you a list of her close acquaintances.”

  “Reached about half of them,” Goliad said. “Told them I’d found her phone and was calling her contacts in an attempt to return it. I asked if she had a getaway, lake house, someplace where she might be spending the holiday. No to all that. Only one car is registered to her, and we know where it is.”

  “Anything on the father?”

  “Long list of O’Neals with cr
iminal records. I’ve got people trying to make a connection, but that will take some time.”

  “I could kick Nate for not getting his name out of those deputies,” Delores said.

  Shortly before Goliad and Timmy had arrived, Nate had slunk out, leaving the task of finding his wayward colleague to them. Not that his contributions had been of much help, and his unsolicited editorial comments had begun to grate on Delores.

  “If we asked the deputies for her father’s name now, it would raise red flags,” Richard said. “Besides, I doubt she’ll remain stationary. She’ll be trying to get to the girl.”

  “I’ve got hackers checking airlines and car rental companies,” Goliad said. “Neither her name nor Mallett’s has shown up anywhere. And,” he said, drawing a breath, “there’s another complication.”

  “Great. Just what we need,” Delores remarked.

  Goliad looked at her apologetically before explaining. “I’ve got snitches all over the city with their ears to the ground. One picked up on an Atlanta PD officer asking around for them at a bar out near the airport where pilots of Mallett’s caliber hang out.”

  “Atlanta PD?” Delores asked.

  “Thanks to Timmy and the knife fight,” Richard said.

  “Probably,” Goliad replied somberly. “Last thing we want is for me and police to overlap in our pursuit of Dr. O’Neal. Everybody knows who I work for. Something happens to her, it could come back to you.”

  Richard dragged his hands down his face. “So where does this leave us?”

  “I continue looking, but keep it discreet. Hope something turns up.”

  “With absolutely no guarantee that anything will before time runs out.”

  Goliad raised his hands at his sides in a gesture of helplessness. “Until something breaks, I don’t know what else to do, sir.”

  Delores had been making aimless circuits around the room but following every word of the discussion. She said, “We can’t depend on something breaking. Since it appears that Dr. O’Neal has gone undercover, we must do something to bring her out.”