Flight Risk

by Cara C. Putman

  He smiled as he opened a new page to capture his thoughts and reach out to the tweeters.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Savannah shifted against her pillow and sighed. Her head pounded but her thoughts were clearer as she opened her eyes.

  How long had she slept?

  “Careful there.” The man’s deep voice startled her, and then her hand flew to her head as she felt the pounding accelerate. “Easy.”

  She carefully shifted, then a man came into focus. Who was he? She sifted through her mind. The reporter?

  Yes, the distinguished, rugged look was Jett’s. The way he watched her, a mix of protectiveness and concern in his eyes, flummoxed her. Why was he here? The questions must have played across her face, because he eased back as if to give her space to feel less threatened.

  “I drove you home from the hospital.”

  That simple sentence released a kaleidoscope of images. An SUV tailing her. The crash. Pulling into a high school parking lot. A man, but not this one. Then the ambulance ride. The CT scan. “You brought me home, but why are you in here?”

  “I found you sprawled halfway up your stairs. Decided it would be a good idea to monitor you until backup arrives.”

  She grimaced. That meant Bella. “I don’t need a babysitter.” The words came out without the punch she’d imagined. They practically limped from her barren throat. She cleared it and tried again. “I might need a glass of water.”

  He stood and hesitated. “Downstairs in the kitchen?”

  “There should be a pitcher in the fridge.” She liked her water colder than tap, but the thought of getting up—she really should—made her queasy. She must have hit her head hard, but she didn’t feel any bumps as she ran her fingers lightly over the back of her scalp.

  Jett’s heavy steps clomped down the stairs. Thanks to her wood floors she could follow his progress across the first floor and back. He’d found one of her Captain Marvel glasses and filled it with ice water.

  “Thanks.” She scooted back against the headboard. “How long was I out?”

  “About two hours.” He picked up a notepad and then returned to his seat. “You’ve had quite the day. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

  Wait. She shouldn’t have had an empty house. “Where’s Addy?”

  “She wasn’t here when I dropped you off.”

  Savannah frowned. “Where’s my purse?”

  He went back downstairs and a minute later returned with it. Savannah pulled out her phone and looked at the texts. “She walked to the library. Crazy girl.” She leaned back against her pillows. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”

  “Bella will be here at four, and I’ll stay until then. I can write on my laptop.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Especially if Addy were here.

  “Says the woman who was crashed on her steps after being hit by a mystery SUV earlier in the day. It’s a nonstarter.” He shifted against the wooden back as if to emphasize he wasn’t going anywhere. Then he gave her a self-satisfied smile. “This reporter only needs his laptop and power cord to work from anywhere in the world.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “A follow-up article on Logan Donnelly and his friends. I think I found a new thread.”

  “The man is dead. Leave him alone.”

  “He wasn’t the only one on the trips.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s fair game now.”

  “No, but it does mean the investigation didn’t die with him and Dustin. There’s more to the story, including the fourth person I haven’t found.”

  Her jaw was so tight, she couldn’t speak. She rubbed it to ease the tension. “Don’t waste your time on dead ends.” She winced as her word choice registered. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know, but what if there was more to the trips?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, but as I was reviewing my notes I remembered a tweet that when I first read it made me think the person knows something. When I read it again, I couldn’t help wondering if they might know who the fourth man is.” He sighed as he leaned forward. “I just sent a direct message and now we wait.”

  “Maybe a fresh set of eyes will help.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to offer that. The last thing she needed to do was spend more time with this man. He caused her to say and do things she didn’t intend, and she didn’t need the distraction. “What does the account show?”

  He clicked a few buttons on his tablet, then flipped it around. He started scrolling down. “It’s mainly images, but they’re fantastic shots of Thailand and Bangkok.” He stopped as he hit a series set in the city. “Do you sense a theme?”

  Savannah reached for the tablet. “Can I look?”

  “Sure.” He handed the device over and she slowly scrolled down.

  “It’s interesting that so many of her posts include a photo.”

  Jett twitched as if he’d been shocked. “Why did you say her?”

  “I don’t know.” Then she pointed at a post with exotic orchids and flowers. “I guess I can’t imagine a man posting photos like this.”

  He leaned toward her bed, and she shifted, trying to sit up more. Next thing she knew, he stood and helped her, shifting pillows so she could be more comfortable. She eased back against the pillow and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.” He took the tablet back. “I’ve posted photos like that.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Really? Of delicate orchids?”

  “Okay. If I traveled to Thailand on vacation, I’d expect to post things like that. My trip was all business.” He handed it back to her. “These are different from what we have here.”

  He grinned at her, and she found herself responding. There was something about the way he looked at her and immediately moved to assist her that drew her to him. She might take care of others, but no one had taken care of her in a very long time. Maybe working together to determine what had happened to Dustin and what the trips were really about wouldn’t be so bad.

  Maybe in the process she could clear Addy’s father.

  * * *

  His trip through her town house had revealed much about Savannah Daniels. She didn’t spend a lot of time in her home, because it felt like a showroom, perfectly staged but without much soul. Not one book was out of place on a bookshelf. Not one glass had been left on the dining room table. Instead, she had a leather couch in front of a medium-sized, wall-mounted TV. He’d bet she never took the time to watch it.

  And there hadn’t been a single dish in the kitchen sink. The marble counter was immaculate. With the subway tile backsplash, it was a kitchen that could be featured in Southern Living. Did she really live here or did she just land on occasion?

  Right now, however, it was the look on her face that held his attention. He figured she hadn’t intended to offer to help him with his research, but now that she had, Jett thought it was a great idea.

  “How often did you spend time with Dustin after the divorce?”

  He’d take notes in his mind even as he itched to enter notes on his tablet. No need to alert her to how much he wanted to know.

  “Not any more than I had to with Addy.”

  He cocked his head as he considered. “Really? You seemed comfortable together at the hospital.”

  “You have no idea.” She rolled her eyes and looked back at the Twitter feed.

  “Do you have custody of her?” The girl cropped up often enough in her conversation that he wondered.

  “No. But her mom isn’t the most on top of it, and with his schedule, Dustin was gone more than he was around. I spend a lot of time with her.” Savannah took another drink of water. “She makes it easy. And I could keep the distance I needed.”

  “I had a thought while you were out.” She raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored it. “Did you know Dustin and Logan went to the same high school?”

  She shrugged. “Why does that matter?”

 
“It means they have history and a depth of trust.”

  “Maybe. I hardly stay in touch with anyone from school.”

  He could see that. The woman was so focused on work and her niece that she didn’t seem to leave room for much else. “That doesn’t mean they didn’t. All the flights to Thailand were piloted by your husband.”

  Savannah drained the glass, then set it on the vintage nightstand. Her place had a cottage feel. Not quite antique, but chic that wasn’t modern. “This is your epiphany?”

  “Do you know what the trips were for?”

  “According to your article they were pleasure excursions.” She studied him like a teacher who was displeased with the efforts of her least favorite pupil. He tried to meet her gaze without flinching. “You can’t make accusations like that without solid facts.”

  “I did months of research—time my editor still holds against me. Did you know I traveled there . . . twice? Once wasn’t enough, because I had more questions after I got home. I spent time finding the taxi drivers, the hotel, the right airport.”

  “But you don’t know who the fourth passenger was? What if that soul-freedom tweeter is right? That person could be the key.”

  “Really?” He felt the spike of heat that always came when he thought about what had been done to his dad, and how the truth was too little too late. “I understand more than you know.”

  She froze, then understanding and sympathy washed her face. “Your father.”

  “What else?” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Look, I am more committed to truth than probably anyone else you’ll meet. I understand what happens when it isn’t a journalist’s driving aim.”

  Savannah sighed. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.” Her fingers played with the edge of the blanket. “I just wish I knew if Dustin actually had evidence of his innocence. Even if he did, the words you published have a lasting impact. It will linger like a long shadow on a person’s soul. That’s a lesson I learned early in my legal career.”

  “It wasn’t just me.”

  “What?”

  “Everything in that article was run through the fact-checking department.” He leaned forward again, trying to close what felt like a growing chasm between them. “Look, I won’t retract words that are true. And until we find other evidence, mine is rock solid. Help me, and we can look for the fourth person together. See if we can figure out what Dustin meant. Frankly, he could have been high on painkillers and not known what he was saying.”

  She shook her head. “He seemed lucid to me.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  She considered him, and he felt her positioning him on a scale. Did he measure up?

  * * *

  Savannah resisted the urge to fan her face. How could this man so easily turn her thoughts and emotions upside down? And the look on his face! It suggested he understood the power he wielded. She wanted to shake it from him, but that would only validate his influence over her.

  The sun was starting to set and sent lengthening rays through her windows.

  Did she want to work with Jett? He might help her figure out what had really happened to Dustin, because she didn’t believe he’d committed suicide.

  Would answers be worth the risks of being in close proximity to the man?

  As she watched him, he pulled out his notes and studied them as if he’d find the Holy Grail somewhere in the pages. What did he expect to get out of their coalition? She wasn’t willing to give him carte blanche to harm Addy and hurt her. And it wouldn’t be possible to spend time with Jett without being impacted. She needed to walk away, yet she wanted to walk closer.

  Was she playing with fire?

  Probably, but she wanted to take the risk. For the first time in years, she felt the tug to see what this man was really made of. Was there integrity buried inside him that would rise to the occasion? There was only one way to find out. Give him the chance to climb behind her walls, even if he might hurt her deeply in the process.

  On the other hand, she might experience the deep connection her heart longed for.

  “You disappeared.” His quiet words snapped her from her reverie.

  “Just thinking.” She took another minute. “I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?” He looked slightly confused, though he shouldn’t.

  “Tomorrow I have to finish a project for my clients. Then I’ll work with you on your article, but I’m not sure what you think I can contribute.” She pushed her legs to the edge of the bed and then stood. She only swayed a moment before finding her balance.

  The man had the audacity to smirk as he reached out to steady her.

  She merely had to keep from being distracted by him. It might not be easy, but she’d do it to clear the fog that Jett’s article had summoned around Dustin. She’d do it for Addy.

  It would all be for her niece and for the truth.

  That alone made the risk worth it.

  He neared the home, slowed his car, and crawled down the road at ten miles an hour. The time was late, and the street was quiet. No one out walking a dog. No curtains pulled back by someone spying on the street.

  All looked ready for him to make his move.

  He continued down the road a block, and then parked on a side street. There was an alley between the small apartment buildings. Each looked to have six apartments. Three up, three down.

  The man might think he had only traveled with the team.

  But it wasn’t true.

  And now vengeance would be his. While his daughter was gone, he could prevent this man from partnering in harming anyone else. It was the call that had burned in him, building over time.

  The article had outlined the evidence in stark black and white. No one could read it and not believe it. It was a roadmap of activities showing the way the men had plotted and planned their excursions that were little more than excuses to harm girls like his Grace. The young girls and young women might not be able to defend themselves. He might not be able to reach them. But he could ensure the men paid the ultimate price for the harm.

  Some might argue he was distracted, focused on someone who didn’t participate in the crimes, but he knew the truth.

  So nice of the plane to take care of the leader.

  He’d taken care of the pilot.

  That left one more named man for him to punish.

  Tonight he accepted the call. Then he’d turn to finding the fourth. With the resources at his fingertips, it would be an easy matter. He could find things the reporter couldn’t.

  He parked in the shadows at the outskirts of the parking lot. Better to let the darkness cloak him. Then he reached in the back seat and pulled a small bag from it.

  He was ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  friday, december 18

  Savannah called a rideshare service and made it back to work in the morning despite Bella’s argument that she should stay home. Emilie had called and walked her through everything she’d accomplished Thursday going through documents with John and Rochelle, but Savannah needed to see them for herself before signing off and forwarding everything to the FBI. That had her arriving at the office before the sun was fully up.

  Fortunately whatever had caused her headache had cleared.

  Her desk was bare except for two stacked folders. One was labeled FBI, the other bore her name.

  She opened the top one and slowly flipped through the documents. They were neatly organized with the originals in chronological order, and a quick glance showed the other ordered the same. Savannah spent more time on the cover memo, which did a good job explaining the decisions Emilie had made in a way that even the agents should understand. Savannah signed the memo and then slid it back into the folder. Now she’d have to wait to see if the FBI agreed with their legal opinion. If the agency didn’t, she’d still bought her clients time.

  Her phone rang, and Savannah glanced at her clock. Nine o’clock? She hadn’t heard anyone come in for the day. The number was Rochelle’s.
Savannah frowned as she leaned back against her chair. “Savannah Daniels.”

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re there. Men with government IDs are standing at my office door. They’re telling me they want to interview me.” Rochelle’s voice shook, something unusual for the woman who had been so self-possessed the last two weeks. Was this her last straw?

  Savannah closed her eyes and tried to imagine why anyone associated with the government wouldn’t give her clients time to comply with the subpoena before harassing them. “Did they tell you why?”

  “It was the classic ‘you need to come with us, ma’am.’” Rochelle sighed. “John is sick and out of the office. The stress of the last weeks caught up with him. I can’t handle this alone.”

  “You shouldn’t. Get the agents’ names and badge IDs. Tell them you will voluntarily come in later today, but only with your attorney. And try to find out why they want to talk to you.” Savannah rubbed her temples.

  “They say it’s related to Flight 2840.”

  Savannah sat straighter. “But we’re complying with the subpoena.”

  “I know.”

  “Hand one of them the phone.”

  “Okay.”

  There was a moment and then a male voice came on. “Agent James Martin. Who am I speaking with?”

  “Savannah Daniels. Please identify your agency and the reason you’re harassing my client.”

  “Not harassing, ma’am. Simply pursuing an investigation and all related leads.”

  “Your agency.”

  “FBI.”

  “Agent Martin, my client is complying with the subpoena. The documents will be delivered later today.”

  “The documents were due yesterday.”

  “We received an extension.”

  “Of a day?” He snorted. “You’re late and now we’ll be taking Ms. Lingonier in for questioning.”

  “I will bring her later today.”

  “Unacceptable.”

  “More acceptable than the lawsuit I will file this afternoon if you pursue this.” She didn’t have the energy to follow through on her threat. However, Hayden or Emilie did. “It would be a pleasure to sue the FBI for a violation of civil rights.”