Page 9

CHAPTER 9

“Thank you for letting us clean up at your place, Ms. Reid.” Jessie’s sun-streaked brown hair straggled over her shoulders. Both interns had showered, and Fifi was wearing a caftan of Diana’s (the only thing in Diana’s closet that fit Fifi’s much bustier and curvier figure) while her dust-covered and branch-torn sundress went through an abbreviated wash and dry cycle in Diana’s laundry room. Fifi’s sunburned nose gleamed with aloe vera gel provided by Diana.

“No problem. But next time, I’d suggest wearing sensible boots and jeans for field work,” she added to Fifi.

“I know,” Fifi said woefully. “I’m not an outdoorsy person.”

Jessie nudged her. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you the ropes.”

Earlier, Costa had texted a picture of Emmeline asleep on a rug on the floor of his office. Diana had to use firm willpower, and the fact that she had company, to stop herself from pulling her phone out to look at it repeatedly. She wasn’t even a baby person, and it wasn’t just the baby, it was Costa’s strong sun-browned hand curled protectively over Emmeline’s tiny soft head.

Stop it.

Her phone vibrated and she took it out in the hopes it would be another baby picture. It wasn’t, but it was from Costa.

Evidence still at Cochise Cty Sheriff’s Office, tied up in red tape. If you’re in the area, go take a look?

She texted back, Look for what?

Don’t know. Send me pictures.

“Quinn—that is, Chief Costa wants me to go look at the evidence the investigators collected,” she told the interns. “Do you two want to come along? It’s your case, after all.”

They were eager, which Diana supposed boded well for their ability to handle field work. With Fifi back in her slightly rumpled sundress, sunburn showing pink on her exposed arms, Diana drove them over to the sheriff’s office and chatted with the deputies, all of whom knew her.

“I don’t have a warrant, but I’m doing some work with a government bureau out in Tucson.”

“Oh yeah, Costa’s office. They told us to expect you. Come on back.”

The evidence room was concrete-floored and fiercely air conditioned, making all of them shiver after the late afternoon warmth outside. The deputy searched the shelves and took down a box containing neatly labeled bags.

“There’s not a lot here. I think the NTSB has the rest of it.” She put it on a table and snapped on a bright light over it. “You can examine it here if you like.”

“Is Diana back there?” A voice echoed back into the evidence room. A minute later Luis came in. “It is you. Thought I heard your voice. I wanted to let you know a guy was looking for you earlier.”

“A guy?” Diana echoed, thinking of Costa. “Big guy, red hair?”

“Big guy, blond,” Luis corrected. “He was wearing camo. I would say he looked like someone you might be friends with, except ...” He hesitated. “He felt dangerous to me. I don’t know. I told him I couldn’t give out information about other employees.”

“Did he come to the sheriff’s office?”

Luis shook his head. “Park Service. The fact that I’m here has nothing to do with you; I didn’t even know you were back here ‘til I heard your voice.” He glanced around, but the deputy had gone back to the front. Luis quickly mimed holding a baby. “How’s the ...”

“She’s doing well. Here, I have pictures.” Diana pulled out her phone, and as Luis looked at the two women: “They’re friends. Federal agents. They’re helping me work out what was going on with her.”

The interns shook hands with Luis, Diana showed him the picture Costa had texted her, and there was awww-ing all around.

“The man who came in asking about me—when was this?” Diana asked Luis, while the interns passed her phone back and forth and cooed.

“A couple of hours ago, I guess. A while before I drove over here.”

So after they’d come back from the mountains. She didn’t find it especially plausible that someone could have driven from the Chiricahuas to Sierra Vista, where the sheriff’s office was located, in that amount of time, although she supposed it was possible if they had an all-terrain vehicle stashed nearby and got to it quickly. But it could easily be someone in touch with the sniper.

“What exactly did he ask? I mean, did he ask for me by name?”

“No, not exactly. I think he said, ‘Is the lady helicopter pilot around?’ Something like that.”

Diana frowned. It was true that female helicopter pilots were a relatively select club, so most people in her professional circles simply knew her because of that. But it bothered her to have someone asking questions about her under the circumstances. “Shifter?” she asked quietly.

“No. Human.”

She didn’t like this. But it could be completely unrelated. “Thank you for not giving out anything. If he comes back again, could you tell me? And maybe see if you can get a picture? Come up with an excuse if you have to. I don’t suppose he was on any cameras while he was there.”

“Dunno. I can check.” Luis gave her a worried look. “You think it’s about the kid?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” She retrieved her phone from the interns. “Okay, let’s see what’s in here. Luis, feel free to stick around if you want.”

There wasn’t much to see. As she’d thought, it was mostly trash. The most interesting thing was a rope cargo net, which presumably had been used to hold things down, but not necessarily on this trip. Diana photographed it diligently for Costa’s sake, but she couldn’t see anything that was worth sending over to the SCB. It was just stray items that had shaken loose in the crash, an aviation manual and a couple of soda bottles and some granola bar wrappers.

“I suppose the next thing is going to be talking to the company that owns the airplane, and that’s out of my hands,” Diana said, putting the junk back in the box with some disappointment. She had really enjoyed being part of the investigation for a little while.

Luis touched her shoulder. “Hey, if you find out where the kid belongs, let me know, huh? I’d like to know if she gets back to her folks.”

“I will,” Diana promised.

She drove the interns back to where she’d met them at the helipad with a vaguely sad sense of a door closing. Jessie and Fifi seemed disappointed as well.

“Do you work with the SCB regularly?” Jessie asked. “I’d love to go for another helicopter ride.”

“Not usually. Every once in a while, when they need a pilot, but mostly I’m doing my own thing. And it’s really too far for me to drive over regularly.”

“That must be tough if you’re dating the boss,” Fifi said.

Oops. She had temporarily forgotten. “Yeah, it puts a strain on the relationship.” To say the least.

She saw the interns to their car—actually Jessie’s truck. The sun was setting, and as they drove away, Diana inhaled deeply of the sweet evening air.

Her phone pinged with an incoming text. She looked down and smiled involuntarily at Costa’s name.

How’d it go at the sheriff’s office?

Nothing useful, Diana texted back. She hesitated; she wanted to add that her part in this was ended, that it was over to the SCB now, but she didn’t want to. The urge to stay connected to the case was still incredibly strong.

Instead, she texted, Where is little Em tonight?

The response was a photo, adorable Emmeline tucked into a blanket, looking up with her wide eyes. Diana’s chest did that thing again.

Right here, Costa texted. Nowhere else to put her for now. I can handle another night of lost sleep.

Diana stood with her phone in hand, the evening breeze sweeping over her. And for an instant, the urge to drive up to Tucson was so powerful it nearly overwhelmed her. If she started driving now, it wouldn’t be too late by the time she got there. And then?—

And then what? Another night spent on Costa’s couch, followed by another morning of temptation, aching for what she didn’t have?

Have a good evening, she texted quickly, before she lost her senses entirely. And then, possessed by a playful urge, she added, Kiss Em for me .

There was an unexpectedly long pause, as if Costa was trying to decide how to respond. He finally marked her text with a heart emoji, and that seemed to be that.

Diana walked to her car. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if working with the SCB would really be so impossible to manage. She lived almost two hours’ drive away, especially in commute traffic. But maybe she could consult? There were other options than a full-time job with the agency. Perhaps they could use a regular pilot. Maybe she could do field work. She was good at it, and it had caught her off guard how much she’d enjoyed working on this case with them.

In the end, she supposed, it wasn’t worth upending her life completely. She liked her life; she liked her job. She could gamble on a roll of the dice, offer to continue working the case with Costa’s people, see if she was capable of working with—and perhaps for—Costa without losing her head ...

But the far more reasonable thing was to go to work in the morning as usual and put all of this behind her. She could ask Costa to keep her in the loop when and if they found the place where Emmeline belonged. That was the only part that really mattered; there was no reason why she needed to continue to be involved with a plane crash investigation.

Staying out of it would be the sensible thing. The non-risky thing.

When did I turn into a person who doesn’t take risks?

Maybe that was what growing up meant, she thought, a little sadly.

She passed by the exit that would have taken her toward Tucson and continued home.

* * *

Two hours later, her house blew up.