Flight Risk

by Cara C. Putman

  “Help me carry these files to my car?”

  “Sure.” He’d even make sure she got them in her town house. Just like he’d be with her in the morning.

  * * *

  Jett followed Savannah as she drove her rental home. She took comfort each time she looked in the rearview mirror and saw the familiar outline of his headlights. After she parked, he slid his car into the slot next to hers and then grabbed the file boxes from his trunk.

  “I’ll come back and get yours in a minute.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” As she unlocked her front door, she tried not to be miffed.

  He shifted the boxes and his blue-gray gaze shot through her. “I know you’re capable. But I’m going to make sure everything’s okay inside anyway.”

  After he set down the boxes, she waited for him to start sliding through the space as if he had a gun and could clear it of any bad guys. She tried not to smile at the way he was acting all tough and defender-like, but she didn’t want him to find someone. It was one thing to sense a threat. It was another to identify and clear it. She also didn’t want to know someone had invaded her space.

  When he came back, she tugged a box to the leather couch and opened it. “I’ll start with these.”

  Jett’s phone rang. “Huh. I may have to take this.” He stepped onto her front porch and shut the door behind him.

  She took a moment to check on Addy. The poor girl was already asleep, so Savannah went to work on the files. She pulled them out of the box a few at a time. When she opened one, she carefully flipped through the contents. This time she took the time to scan each page rather than assuming if the file said Bills, that’s what she would find inside. She opened each envelope and pulled out the pages. After ten minutes of finding exactly what was marked on each folder, she wondered if she was wasting time.

  No, someone had been in his apartment, and unless she wanted to assume the intruder had found whatever he’d been looking for before she and Jett arrived, she needed to keep digging.

  She’d lost track of how many files she’d gone through when she came across an unmarked envelope. It wasn’t in a file, so maybe it had been scooped up in a pile of folders she’d set on the desk.

  The envelope was plain with nothing printed or written on the front. It looked like a standard #10 envelope that could be bought by the box at any store selling office supplies. It wasn’t sealed, but the flap was tucked inside the back, so she pulled it out. A single sheet of typed paper was inside.

  It read like a legal brief.

  Wherefore the accused Dustin Tate was a key instigator of the plot to harm girls in Thailand.

  Wherefore said Dustin Tate was a willing and knowing participant in the scheme,

  Wherefore this man was an obstructionist to the trueth and

  Wherefore said Dustin Tate must be held accountable for his many sins,

  Therefore Dustin Tate has been found guilty and executed for his sins.

  He will no longer harm young women nor participate in plans to harm them.

  In addition his daughter will be forthwith protected from her father and any and all sins he would have committed with and to her. She will be forthwith protected from being drawn into his dark and nefarious schemes.

  The trueth was determined and the trueth has set him free.

  Savannah’s hands trembled as she reread the page again.

  Dustin had been executed.

  Had it been left on the desk because the author expected it to be found? Or had it been moved by the cleaners? She might never know, but this seemed like proof that would change Dustin’s death from a possible suicide to murder.

  She picked up her phone and called Detective Jensen. Then she took a photo of the document and set it to the side after gingerly holding it by the edges.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jett walked back into the town house and found Savannah curled into the side of the couch, phone on her lap, hands idle. The call hadn’t seemed that long, but something had changed while he’d been on the porch. “What happened?”

  “I found a letter.” She pointed to the small wood coffee table. “I’ve called Detective Jensen.”

  Jett sat next to her on the couch and then leaned forward to read the document. “What is this?”

  “The guilty verdict for Dustin.”

  He scanned the document. “Wait a minute.”

  “What?”

  “Did you notice the way truth is spelled?”

  She scooted closer and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Thought it was a typo.”

  “It’s the same spelling used in the bot tweets. Nobody spells truth with an e. That has to be intentional.”

  “So the person who sent the tweets killed Dustin?”

  “Maybe.”

  There was a knock at her door, and Jett got to his feet. “Let me check that for you.”

  Detective Jensen stood on the stoop. “This is becoming a bad habit.”

  Jett nodded as he shook the man’s hand. “It is, but you’ll want to see this.”

  The man slipped on latex gloves and then read the document. He pulled out a notepad and pen. “Where did you say you found this?”

  “It was in this box of files we brought from Dustin’s office.” Savannah tried to sit forward, but seemed to collapse.

  “Yes?” The detective pulled a chair from the dining room and sat on the other side of the coffee table.

  Jett quickly filled him in on the tweets and what he’d learned. “I’ve been waiting for a contact from Twitter to get back to me so I can learn more about the account these tweets originated from.”

  “I can get a warrant for that information, especially now that it may be tied to a murder. Probably have it tomorrow late afternoon.” The man jotted a couple notes.

  Savannah swallowed but her voice was thin. “Do you think it was murder?”

  “Yes. There were some anomalies in his tox screen that have us working on that assumption.”

  “Anomalies like what?”

  “Similar to the ones in your tox screen.”

  Savannah straightened. “My tox screen?”

  “Thursday when you were taken to the emergency room you had high levels of Midazolam in your system.”

  “Mida-what?”

  “It’s a sedative that eases anxiety. Here’s what’s interesting: it also causes mild amnesia.”

  “So that’s why she doesn’t remember much about the crash.” Jett could feel the pieces clicking into place.

  “Yes.” The detective flipped to another page of his notebook. “When you mentioned that a man had given you water after the accident, I checked your vehicle. The bottle tested positive for traces of the drug. It was also a different brand from the others in your car, leading us to think it was the one the man who came to your aid gave you. Unfortunately none of the cameras in the parking lot got a good look at his license plate, because it was covered with something like mud.”

  * * *

  Savannah had to remind her lungs to work. Inhale and exhale. “So whoever killed Dustin is after me too? Why?”

  “I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion yet.” Detective Jensen rubbed the back of his neck. “Your case could still be a simple hit-and-run. I’ll keep digging, especially now that a suspicious death has shifted to possible murder.”

  She nodded. “Yes. How old was the girl who was killed? The one whose Twitter account is being used?”

  Jett pushed some buttons on his phone. “It’s not entirely clear. I’d guess she was a teenager.” He turned the phone so she could see the profile.

  Savannah clicked a few buttons, then started scrolling backward in the profile’s feed. “At some point she was the one sending the tweets. We could try to get back to that point to find out the date of her death.”

  “Or you could give me her name, and I can tell you.” Detective Jensen cocked an eyebrow and waited with pen poised over the notepad.

  “Gracie467.”

  “No
, really what’s her name?”

  “That’s her twitter handle.” Savannah clicked around some, but the profile didn’t have many details.

  “I’m pretty sure her name is Grace Martin,” Jett said. “I haven’t confirmed it though.”

  “All right, show me her photo. If she was from around here, I might recognize her or someone else at the precinct could.” Savannah handed Jett’s phone to the detective and he frowned as he squinted at the image. Then he pulled it closer. “Wait a minute.” He looked at Jett. “You’re sure this is the right account?”

  “Yeah.” Jett shrugged. “I could run you through the tech and analytics, but we’re sure.”

  “I know her.”

  Savannah snatched the phone back. “You do?” She manipulated the image to make it bigger. “I don’t.”

  “She disappeared two years ago. Went to meet friends at a local joint and never arrived. Three months later her body was found, and the FBI busted a suspected human trafficking ring. Her dad was one of the FBI agents who busted the case.”

  “So an FBI agent’s daughter is nabbed and found months later in a raid.” Jett ran his hands over his hair. “That had to mess with him.”

  “Yes, and the autopsy showed she’d died in the twenty-four hours before the raid. It destroyed her family. Particularly her dad. Everyone was upset with how it ended because he’s one of us. Felt like a failure to everyone in law enforcement.” Detective Jensen set his pad of paper down. “He disappeared for a couple months. Bereavement leave. Then came back divorced, a workaholic. Been working ever since. I’ll see what I can make of this.”

  Savannah could too easily imagine the grief she would feel if something similar happened to Addy. “It must have shaken him to think he’s supposed to catch evil, and instead it caught his family.” She tried to dislodge the shadows of pain. “And now he’s involved in the investigation into this crash.”

  Jett frowned as if bothered by something. “I’m overthinking this, but is there any way he’d be interested in my article?”

  “That’s unlikely.” Detective Jensen stood, but Jett held up a hand as if to stop him.

  “I don’t think so. This account is the one that started the circulation of my article.”

  “Then he’s just interested, allegedly, in informing others about situations similar to his daughter.”

  “Maybe.” Jett dragged out the word, but stayed quiet after that.

  “I’ll get back to the office and see if a quick call can confirm whose account this is.” He shook hands with Jett. “I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “We understand.” Savannah walked him to the door, and when she turned back, Jett was packing up. “You leaving?”

  “I’ve got to get all of this organized in my head. There are connections and they are starting to come together.” He stepped nearer and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll come back tonight if they do.”

  Her home felt empty, even though Addy was resting upstairs.

  Peace. She desperately needed some. She’d intentionally tried to make her home an oasis. While it wasn’t perfect, the lavender-gray walls, the white furniture with gray accent pillows, the refinished hardwood floors, the gauzy white curtains, and the clean white trim were all designed to create a sense of peace.

  Then why wouldn’t it seep into her? Why did it feel like she couldn’t shake the heaviness of quicksand?

  Rhett walked with a curled tail around and between her feet. “It’s too bad you can’t join me for a walk, girl.”

  The sweet thing looked up and meowed. If felt like her cat would come if Savannah really wanted.

  “I won’t make you wear a leash. That would be ridiculous.”

  “Make who wear a leash?” Addy croaked as if she’d just woken up.

  Savannah startled and turned toward her niece. “Feel better?”

  “I’m not sure I ever will.”

  Savannah opened her arms and Addy walked into them. “I know.” She gave her niece a hug. “I was just telling Rhett I wouldn’t make her wear a leash, but maybe you’d like to go for a walk with me.”

  “Not really.”

  “A quick stroll around the neighborhood.” It would do them both good to get outside and let the cold air clear their heads. Jett had been on to something, and the flurry of things she needed to do related to the memorial service and work would still be waiting when they got back.

  “I think I’ll wait.” Addy covered a yawn. “Instead, I’ll take some kitty therapy.”

  “All right. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” As Savannah bundled up, Addy settled on the love seat with Rhett and a blanket.

  Savannah stepped outside, knowing she needed a minute to pause before she imploded from the weight of everything. Savannah Daniels did not implode. No, she was the one others relied on for help and steadiness.

  This wilderness wouldn’t have her. Instead she would press in even as she waited, somehow finding the holy tension in the balance. And that would start with a pair of tennis shoes, a bit of cold sunshine on her face, and words that whispered comfort to the angst in her heart. Maybe in the acknowledging she’d sense some release.

  Calming her heart and directing her thoughts did not come easily. Instead it felt like every emotion inside fought for release. She paused on the sidewalk at the end of her block, closed her eyes, and lifted her face. It didn’t matter if all of her neighbors saw the moment. Let them imagine she was enjoying the welcome sunshine that didn’t really warm the air but still painted the day more brightly.

  She raised her hands in front of her hips.

  I surrender. I don’t know what You’re doing or what my response is supposed to be, so I surrender. Have Your way, Lord, and help me live with grace and reflect Your love in the moments of my days. Keep Addy safe, please. She’s dear to me.

  She stood there for a moment and let the words float toward heaven.

  If she didn’t feel an immediate answering peace, that was okay.

  God still heard, and He knew her heart. She’d trust Him to help her follow in His steps.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  monday, december 21

  Meet you at the bank when it opens? Trying to get there before the service.

  A minute later Savannah had Jett’s reply.

  Forty minutes?

  Sure.

  Addy had asked to go home to get ready for the service, and now Savannah considered the small key that hung on a bank key chain. Unlike in novels, Dustin had made it easy to know it was a safe deposit box key, since he left it on a key chain emblazoned with the bank’s name.

  The question was why Dustin had one. When they were married he had nothing of value. But that was a lifetime ago. His apartment didn’t indicate anything had really changed though.

  Thirty minutes later she pushed through the bank’s doors.

  With a pasted smile and firm step, she approached the main counter of the small branch.

  A middle-aged woman looked up at her with interest. “May I help you?”

  “I’m the executor of the estate of a man who had a safe deposit box here. I have the key and a copy of the will.”

  “I’ll need to see that.”

  “Sure.” Savannah reached in and pulled the copy of the will from her bag and slid it across the desk.

  The woman picked it up and gave it a quick scan. “Everything seems in order. Do you have a copy of the death certificate?”

  Savannah froze. “The death certificate?” Had one even been generated yet?

  “Yes. Standard procedure.”

  “I’ll have to call the detective for that.”

  “It usually comes from the Office of Vital Records in Richmond.” The woman slid the papers back to her. “I’ll be happy to help when you have it.”

  Savannah stepped back outside and hurried to her SUV as a cold wind cut through her coat. She called Detective Jensen. “Can you help? I don’t even know if a death certificate has been issued yet.”

  �
��The autopsy was completed Saturday. I believe the medical examiner completed the form, but I’ll confirm.”

  “Can you have him email it to me?”

  “Now? What’s the hurry?”

  “A bank is requiring it to access his safe deposit box.”

  “Want a warrant?”

  “No, thanks. There’s no reason to think it has the fruit of criminal endeavors.” She rubbed her forehead as the complication added to her morning.

  The sound of rustling papers filtered over the call. “I just found a copy on my desk. I’ll shoot it your way.”

  “Thanks.” A moment later when her phone dinged, she pulled it up. It was a bit blurry, but should be good enough for the bank’s purposes, at least for today. She headed back inside and approached the receptionist. “I have the death certificate on my phone.”

  The woman reached for her phone. “Let me see it.” A minute later the woman handed the phone back to her. “And the will?”

  Savannah pulled it from her bag again.

  The woman glanced at it, then gave a tight smile. “Let me get someone to show you to the safe deposit box center. Would you like water or coffee while you wait?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” Savannah stepped across to a small seating area and then sank onto a couch’s pleather surface. What could Dustin have in that box? Based on Jett’s article, she wondered if it would look something like the one in the first Jason Bourne movie. A collection of passports and cash?

  That was so farfetched, she barely contained a snort. Her phone dinged and she glanced at the text.

  Got held up. Not sure I’ll make it.

  Okay. In lobby waiting. Let me know if you get here.

  She slipped the phone back in her purse. The bank was a basic branch. Sunlight pressed through heavy clouds to reach the front windows, and a steady flow of customers entered and flowed through the line to a teller, then left.

  She glanced at her watch and sighed. Fifteen minutes with no traction. She didn’t have time to wait with the memorial service later in the day, but didn’t want to make the drive a second time. She stood and returned to the desk. “Do you know how much longer it will be?”