Tailspin(110)

“They may think otherwise.”

“This is serious, then.”

“Serious. Not life-threatening.”

“But it is, Rye. It’s threatening to your life.”

He held her gaze, then shifted it beyond her. “There’s your ride.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Please come, Rye. I want to talk to you some more about this.”

“What good will talking do?”

“All right, we won’t talk about it. Just come. You only have to stay long enough for me to introduce you to Violet and her family. They’ll want to thank you.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“I understand completely that you want to get Jake’s plane back, but surely one hour won’t make a difference.”

“That’s not what you’ve been telling everyone else.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone else!”

Then she was struck with another realization, this one like a slap to the face. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Of course. What’s wrong with me that I didn’t catch on sooner? It’s because we’ve slept together that you are so eager to part ways.”

He didn’t say anything, only assumed a familiar air of impassivity.

“Or could it be that you’re afraid to come face-to-face with a sick little girl? Afraid that you might actually be touched, experience a human emotion, feel something?”

“That’s not why.”

“Then why?”

“This is your show, Brynn. Go be the star of it.”

She covered her heart with her hand. “Oh, that’s very sweet. You’re staying away for my sake.” She dismissed that notion with another sardonic laugh. “Why don’t you admit it? You’re a little glad that you have that meeting tomorrow morning. It gives you a good excuse to cut and run.”

“I just don’t see the point of dragging this out.”

“Nor do I,” she snapped. “I have a life to save, and it isn’t yours. You’re a lost cause. You’re hell-bent on flying straight into the heart of guilt and unhappiness. Until the day it kills you. Well, have at it.” She motioned toward Jake’s plane out on the tarmac. “Don’t let me hold you up any longer.”

10:09 a.m.



She pushed through the door and didn’t look back. She got into the car. It drove away.

Someone behind Rye snuffled. “That went well.”

He turned. One of the pilots who’d been playing cards was standing behind him, grinning. Apparently he’d overheard at least some of what Brynn had said.

“Fuck off.” Rye nudged him aside and ignored the epithets muttered in his wake as he walked toward the pilots’ lounge. His cell phone dinged, indicating he’d gotten a text. It was from Dash. Didn’t give your number, but IMPORTANT u call!!! The message was followed by a phone number.

Rye didn’t feel like talking to anybody, but if one of the federal agents was trying to reach him regarding tomorrow’s meeting, he figured he should start sucking up now. He dialed the number.

“Rawlins.”

“Oh, fabulous,” Rye said. “My day is officially made.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“Name me one good reason.”

“We impressed on your pal Dash how important it was.”

“What did you threaten him with? A shakedown by the FAA and NTSB? Thanks for that, by the way. If they revoke my license, if they even suspend it, I’m going to make your life a misery.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Probably not.”

“I think you will. It’s about Dr. Lambert.”

As though asking after an old friend, Rye said, “How is Nate?”

“That’s the point, wiseass. He pulled a disappearing act similar to Dr. O’Neal’s. Not at his office. Not at the hospital. Hadn’t even checked in. Last place Wilson and I saw him was at the Hunts’ estate. Called it. Housekeeper told us they’d been trying to reach Lambert, too.”

“Are you getting to the good part? Soon, I hope?”

“Lambert owns a condo in a ritzy high-rise. We checked with building staff. The doctor had a visitor late last night. Identified himself as Goliad.”

“My, my. He gets around.”

“Yes, he does. We learned through APD about the fracas at the hotel early this morning.”

“Damn security cameras are taking the fun out of everything.”

“We retrieved your flight bag.”

“Thanks. Bring it to the meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Wilson’s motioning me to hurry this along.”

“I owe him a drink.”

“Dr. Lambert’s guest last night wasn’t Goliad.”

Rye sensed from Rawlins’s shift to a no-nonsense tone that a clever comeback would be inappropriate, that the deputy had finally gotten to the good part. “Who was it?”

“We’ve got him on video, but it’s jerky. So I’m sending you a text of the description the concierge gave us.”

Within seconds, the text came through. He went back to Rawlins. “Timmy.”

“Timmy. He escorted the doctor out of his condo. They left together in the doc’s car. Watching the security video, you don’t get a warm fuzzy.”