Into the Light (The Light, #1)(99)

It wasn’t until I got back into my car that I noticed the security cameras at the gate. Sighing, I fought the urge to wave. Well, I couldn’t see them, but apparently they could see me.

Next I spent an hour driving in circles. If there was an airstrip off Woodward Avenue and Eastways Road, I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t even find the access road. Maybe I did, but instead of an accessible street it was another one of the gated private driveways like the address on Kingsway Trace. The more I drove the more frustrated I became.

Dead ends, I was so damn sick of dead ends!

While I was on my way back to WCJB, lamenting my progress, my phone rang. Dylan’s name appeared on the screen in my car. I hit the green image and said, “Hello.”

“Stella?”

His voice sounded different. Maybe something had happened at work. “Hey, is everything all right? You don’t usually call during the day.”

“Where are you?”

Shit!

I’d been so frustrated with the dead ends I’d forgotten to take the interstate and was on Woodward Avenue, approaching Highland Heights. “Why? I’m on my way back from checking out a lead.”

Wanting to be able to honestly answer that I wasn’t in Highland Heights, I turned east toward the interstate, just north of the city limits.

“I just had . . . never mind.”

I wasn’t used to hearing Dylan anything less than confident.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

“No, I was just wondering if you could do dinner tonight?” His tone lightened. “Or do you have drinks with that hot fireman again?”

I laughed. “Dinner would be great, but I need to be home tonight. I have things to do on my computer.”

“You work too much.”

“It doesn’t have to be all work. You could stay?”

“Only if you let me take you out to eat.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go home after work and you can come over. We can go out after that.”

“See you tonight.”



After dinner, while I downloaded my pictures, Dylan sat on my sofa. His legs were up on the ottoman as he watched TV. Looking at him, I wondered if this was what it was like when two people were together long enough to be comfortable. I’d never really dated anyone long enough to move into that stage. Maybe it was finding out about his parents, but since that morning a few days ago, I’d found myself thinking about him a lot more.

Once I had my pictures from the day on my computer, I entered the address of the house I’d visited. Google Earth wouldn’t show me the exact dimensions of the property, but I was curious what was beyond that gate. The house was huge—no wonder it was valued at more than $7 million. There were a pool and tennis courts. Beyond the tennis courts were multiple smaller buildings, and then behind that, away from the road, closer to Eastways, was what I’d been searching for. There was an airstrip.

“Holy shit!” I gasped.

“What?” Dylan asked, coming up behind me.

I shook my head. “I really don’t know.” I pointed at the screen. “See this?”

His hands tightened their grasp on my shoulders as his face came up beside mine. When I turned toward him, I saw the muscle in his jaw flex.

“It’s an airstrip,” I explained when he didn’t speak.

“Are you looking to do some flying?” he asked, from behind clenched teeth.

“No. See, Dina Rosemont called me about a phone call she received from someone who saw her flyer. She said that the caller told her a story about seeing a woman matching Mindy’s description being carried onto a plane.”

Dylan spun my chair around until our noses touched. “She needs to tell that to DPD, not you. You have too much going on. I’m worried about you.”

I kissed him. “I’m worried about you too. Did you ask about getting time at Christmas? And don’t worry, she did call DPD. Have you heard about it?”

“No, I’m not directly involved with her case.” He shrugged. “You don’t want me to be.”

“You’re right. You’re homicide. I’d rather her case not make it to you.”

“So was that where you were today, following that lead?”

I nodded, though I had been there for my story too. Our agreement was to discuss only Mindy-related work information. Turning back to the screen, I answered, “Yes, I couldn’t find it.”

“Well, I guess that’s why it’s private. Did some lady really say she thought she saw Mindy getting on a plane?”

I shook my head. “She said her children saw a woman, not getting on a plane—being carried onto it. It’s the first news that gives me hope. I mean it scares me, but at least maybe there’s a chance that she’s still alive. Now I want to learn who owns this property.” I shrugged. “I know who owns it. I want to know who’s living there. I guess I didn’t realize the airstrip was on it.”

“What do you mean you know who owns it?”

I put my finger on his lips. “We’re getting into non-Mindy stuff.”

“Stella, please stop. You’re too smart for your own good.”

I brushed his lips to mine. “I love your support, but if I’m so smart, why is none of this making sense? Foster offered to take the story and put a fresh set of eyes on it.” I sighed.