Nothing to Lose (J.P. Beaumont #25)(92)

“I just had a call from the FBI office in Anchorage. The resident agent in charge is requesting that I turn up there tomorrow morning to discuss my security breach at the Homer Municipal Airport. I’d like to drive there tonight rather than in the morning. It’ll still be dark, but there’ll be less traffic now than on a Monday morning.”

It occurred to me, as someone from Seattle, that what Twink regarded as traffic was far different from my version.

“I’m sorry I got you into so much hot water,” I apologized.

“You?” she said. “I didn’t see your hands on the steering wheel when I crashed through that gate. In fact, you weren’t even in the vehicle. That’s all on me, and I’m prepared to suffer the consequences. If some candy-ass agent tries to give me too much trouble, I’ll tell him to put it where the sun don’t shine.”

“Or her,” I suggested. “I believe you’re the one who told me women can do anything they want.”

Twink actually grinned at me then. “Roger that,” she said. “But here’s the deal. I’m still on your payroll. Do you want me to drive you back to the hotel before I head out, or should I leave you here?”

“You go on back to Anchorage,” I told her. “Someone here will give me a lift to the hotel, and one way or another I’ll make it back to Anchorage, too.”

“Okay, then,” Twink replied. “I still have your credit card on file. Is it okay if I charge it?”

“Charge away,” I said, “but only after you’re safely home in Anchorage.”

“Will do.” Twink held out her hand. “Driving you around has been interesting,” she added as we shook. “More fun than I’ve had in a long time.” Halfway to the door, she paused and turned back. “There’s a Hertz outlet back at the airport, but you should probably have someone else take you there.” With that she was gone.

“That was Twink?” Nitz asked as the sliding glass doors closed behind her. “Shouldn’t I go thank her for rescuing Jimmy?”

“No need,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she enjoyed every minute of it.”

“But what’s this about an airport security breach?”

“It’s a long story, and one of the things I need to talk to you about, but probably not here,” I said, glancing around the lobby, where at that very moment everyone in the room seemed to be watching all of us with undisguised interest.

“I just came out to get Jimmy,” Nitz said. “There’s a separate ICU waiting room. It’ll probably be a bit more private there.”

“Good,” I said. “Privacy is exactly what’s needed.”





Chapter 35




The ICU waiting room was smaller than the ER lobby, and because there were no sliding glass doors leading to the outside, it was warmer, too. After his long day, Jimmy was done for. When Nitz disappeared into one of the patient rooms, Jimmy curled up on a love seat. Using his arms for a pillow, he was soon fast asleep.

I took advantage of those few moments of privacy to call Mel. “Are you home?” I asked.

“Just kicked off my shoes, lit the fire, and poured myself a glass of wine,” she answered. “The snow is finally starting to melt around here, and you’ll be happy to know Sarah was a good girl and let herself out through the doggy door as needed.”

I decided to accept that as positive news and not ask if Mel had checked for deposits on the front porch. If they were there, they’d still be waiting for me when I got home.

“How was it?” Asking that unnecessary question was a lot like asking someone who’s just lost a spouse, How’re you doing? I already knew it had been bad. I just didn’t know how bad.

“Heartbreaking,” Mel said, and I heard the depth of weariness in her voice. “I spent the day with two separate but equally devastated families. Paul’s parents knew their son was troubled but had no idea about his drug use. They believed Amy was the best thing that ever happened to him and that she and baby Cara were the answer to their prayers. Amy was an only child. Her parents are beyond devastated, but they’re determined to take the baby back home to Hawaii. They may be in for a fight on that score. I’m not sure if taking the child out of state will fly with either Child Protective Services or with the shooter’s parents.”

“Wait,” I said, suddenly irate. “You mean CPS would rather keep the baby in foster care than send her home with her grandparents?”

“Come on,” Mel said. “You and I both know that bureaucracies aren’t smart on that score.”

She was right about that, because we had seen it firsthand. Alan Dale, my granddaughter Athena’s other grandfather, had battled for months before being granted permission to take the child back home to Texas.

“I hope they have a good lawyer.”

Mel actually laughed. “Believe me, they do,” she said. “I already gave them some suggestions about that. But the good news for me is that an autopsy has confirmed that the shooter took his own life, so at least I don’t have the added complication of an officer-involved shooting. What’s happening on your end, and where are you?”

“In the waiting room for the ICU at the hospital in Homer.” After that I gave her a brief overview of everything that had happened, and I’d gotten as far as Shelley Adams’s being taken into custody at the airport when Nitz emerged from her father’s room.