Tailspin(8)

“Yeah. He turned the lights on.”

“Good. He did what he was supposed to, then.”

“According to your directions.” His jaw was tense with what appeared to be cold fury. His eyes narrowed on her again. “What’s in that black box?”

That was a question she had no intention of answering, especially since it had been posed with such suspicion. She said, “I didn’t see it in the cockpit.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Your only concern should be its delivery. To your client. Who happens to be me. Is it secured in the back of the plane? Please tell me whether or not it was damaged.”

“Wasn’t damaged.”

“I’d like to see that for myself.”

“Don’t trust me?”

“You have the gall to ask that when you were the one waving a gun around?”

“Didn’t wave it around. But the point here is that the mistrust works both ways. What’s so bloody important that the contents of that box had to get here tonight, never mind the weather?”

She held her silence.

“Hmm? Not even a hint? Come on. What could be so closely safeguarded and time-sensitive? The secret ingredient in Grandma’s candied yams?”

“This is no joking matter, Mr. Mallett.”

“You’re goddamn right, it’s not,” he said, raising his voice and taking a fractional step closer. “How come you were sneaking up on the plane?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“Looked like sneaking. The hood, the—”

“I pulled my hood up because of the mist.”

He held out his hand palm up, inches from her face, waited a few seconds, then said, “Dry as dust. No mist.”

“It was misting when I left my car.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “You’re a doctor?” She nodded. “Medical?” She nodded again. “Didn’t you take an oath to do everything possible to ward off death?”

“Yes.”

“Did you mean it?”

She refused to honor the insult with a reply.

“Reason I asked,” he continued, “when you saw the wrecked plane, how come you didn’t break into a run to see to my welfare? For all you knew, I was one heartbeat away from checking out.”

“I was exercising caution.”

“You were creeping.”

“Because I wasn’t sure it was safe!” she exclaimed. “Crashed planes sometimes explode, catch fire.”

“Yeah, I know.”

His tone had the quality of a death knell, a warning that the topic would be better left alone. But she held her ground and said with stern emphasis, “Give me the box.”

“Trade you for it.”

She huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry? Trade?”

“I need a lift to the airport office.”

She was about to refuse when she realized that he was, indeed, stranded. “Of course.”

“Thanks.”

She’d been so focused on getting what she’d come for, she hadn’t thought of the other repercussions of the crash. “Poor Mr. White,” she said. “You were just about to land. He must be frantic to know what happened to you.”

“Oh, poor Mr. White will know what happened to me. He’ll know I’m down, one way or the other.”

“You should have notified him that you’re all right.”

“Couldn’t. My phone’s busted, and my spare isn’t charged up. So either he’s out searching for me himself, or he’s reporting to the authorities that the plane and I are unaccounted for. In which case, we’ll soon have hillbillies with badges poking around and asking questions, and somehow…” He dipped his knees to bring them eye to eye. “I get the drift that you had just as soon avoid that as much as I would. Doctor.”

The emphasis on her title didn’t escape her. Neither did his pause, which invited her to confirm, qualify, or dispute his “drift.” When she didn’t speak at all, one corner of his lips tilted up marginally, smugly. “What I thought.”

He straightened his knees and returned to his full height. “Whatever you’re up to, it’s no skin off my nose. But I’m anxious to meet Brady White up close and personal, and to demonstrate just how alive and well I am.”

“When you blew over my car, I tried to call him but didn’t have service.” She took her cell phone from a coat pocket, then turned it toward him so he could see for himself that she didn’t have a signal. “Cell service is unreliable up here, especially in bad weather.”

“You know this area?”

“I’m one of the hillbillies.” She gave him a pointed look. “I grew up here. That’s how I knew about the county airport.” Looking beyond him at the plane, she asked, “Are you just going to leave it here?”

“It’s not going to fly off.”

“Is it yours? Do you own it?”

He shook his head. “I’m only a flyer for hire.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t, but it doesn’t matter.” He continued without a segue. “If the fog clears, I’ll get somebody to bring me out here tomorrow. I have to take pictures to include in my report.”