Not Quite Enough(63)

Nausea rose in her throat. How could this be happening?
All her life Monica only wanted to be independent. Helping people and finding fulfillment from it was a by-product of the profession she chose.
Fighting for her job at the hospital was one thing… this was entirely different. If she wasn’t a nurse, what was she? Who was she?
She needed help. She reached for the phone and realized the time. Up until that moment Monica had been willing to step back a little and let the wheels of the hospital investigation take place. Let the union hold court. Not anymore.
This was not happening.
Three hours later, Monica was on the phone with Jessie relaying all the shitty details. “I’d never ask if I thought I could do this on my own,” she told her sister. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t be stupid, Mo. What they’re doing to you is wrong on a colossal level. How the hell will Borderless Nurses or Doctors ever recruit anyone to help if they get away with this?”
The anger in Jessie’s voice matched that boiling in Monica’s blood. “I know Jack and Gaylord have a team of lawyers.”
“Say no more.”
“I think I’m going to need character witnesses from the island. Shandee wasn’t happy with me at first, but I can’t believe she’d throw me under the bus.” Her name was on the actual complaint, so obviously Monica wasn’t a good judge of character.
“We’ll let the lawyers figure out who needs to be brought in. I’m so sorry you are going through this, sis. What else can I do?”
Hold her while she cried. “Just see if we can assemble a posse and make Pat and her minions shit their pants.”
“Oh, hon… we’ll do that. And I’ll call Katie, too.”
“OK.”
“How are you otherwise? Are you sleeping?”
Monica hesitated. “Ah, yeah. I’m… yeah.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“My leg hurts at night.” That certainly wasn’t a lie.
“When do you get the cast off?”
“Next week. Then I’ll start physical therapy.” She knew walking with the cast was easy compared to what she had to look forward to in the coming months.
“That’s something at least. I’ll bet you’ll feel better then.”
Yeah, her physical wounds were healing. That was something.


Trent huddled under his windbreaker, cursing the cold wind. His blood had certainly thinned in the last couple of years. That was proven as he stood on the private airstrip just south of SeaTac International shivering his ass off. He’d been introduced to the management of the Pacific Northwest team as TJ Childs. He wasn’t sure how far he could convince any of them that he was a pilot new to the company and considering a transfer to Seattle.
Trent circled around the Citation, inspecting the seven-passenger private jet. The hours logged into this aircraft exceeded what the flight log suggested. The FAA wasn’t happy about the discrepancy and it was going to end up an external investigation if Trent and his brothers didn’t find the culprit.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Frank was a hotshot thirty-six-year-old who’d flown for Fairchild Charters for a few years. He reminded Trent vaguely of the high school football star who always wanted to be the center of attention. After only a couple of days, Trent’s gut told him that Frank was their man. He had yet to prove he used the aircraft for anything other than work, so Trent kept his thoughts to himself as he acted the curious observer.
“She’s sweet. Take her out often?”
“Often enough,” Frank said. “We have a couple of execs that request her on a routine basis.”
The door to the hangar that housed the plane was open, whipping in the wind from outside. How did the locals handle the constant drizzle? He’d been there for only a few days and was already done with it.
Trent asked questions, though he knew the answers. “How long is her range?”
Frank told him the miles the bird would fly and the cargo weight restrictions. He knew his planes.
“It would be nice to have your own. Go anywhere… anytime.” Trent planted the seed and waited for Frank to bite.
Frank lowered his sunglasses over his eyes and looked up at the engine. Who wore sunglasses on rainy days? “We’d have to be doing more than flying them in order to own them. Besides, we have the privilege without the headache.”
“Oh, how’s that?”
“The cost of housing, maintaining… fuel. You know what that all adds up to?”
Yeah, he did.
“But you’re flying other people where they want to go.”
Frank shrugged. “Works out sometimes.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Trent removed his cell phone as Frank walked away with the intention of dropping Frank’s name on Glen. He noticed two missed calls, both from numbers with which he wasn’t familiar.
The callers didn’t leave messages so he went on to text his brother and then turned the ringer on.
Twenty minutes later, his phone rang. “Yeah?” he answered.
“Trent?”
“Jase, how ya doing?” He ducked away from any ears, stood outside the hangar doors, and watched the rain pelt the runway.
“I got your text and have Sally checking what we know on him.”
“Sounds good. It’s a hunch. I don’t have anything solid.”
Jason laughed. “Listen to you sounding all spy-guy.”
“Call me Bond.”
“How does it look up there?”
“Rainy. But the operation runs well. Management is efficient and the planes are in great shape.” He walked out in the rain and elaborated on the business.