Escapes Can Be Murder Page 2

  “Oh, I’ve got the number. Just saying, it’s real hit-or-miss whether I’ll get through. For what I need to tell him now … Well, I just need to see him in person.” His eyes reddened.

  I thought of his uncertain gait as he’d approached us. Some kind of health problem. And to go to this kind of effort and expense … it must be serious. I laid down my fork and reached across the table to pat his hand.

  Drake was nodding. “We’ll see if we can get you there, Fergus. After breakfast, we’ll go back to the airport and sit down with our sectional maps.”

  The old man perked up at the positive news and decided maybe he’d like a cinnamon roll, after all.

  I picked up one of my crisp slices of bacon and chewed slowly. There was a hell of a lot of forest out there and he’d provided really skimpy information. Could we possibly help this man?

  Chapter 3

  Aviation sectional charts are a miracle of old-fashioned technology, with details of the landscape never shown on an ordinary road map. In the air, where roads and bridges mean nothing—other than as landmarks—the important things might include a small stock pond, a farm, or a windmill. Especially in the wide open spaces of New Mexico, where a town is rarely on the horizon, these little clues and our compass headings were often all that got pilots from Point A to Point B before GPS. Even now, watching for them lets us know we’re on course.

  Fergus had given us the bare minimum: “Rory’s cabin is about ten miles north of town here.”

  So we spread out the sectional on a table in the hangar and started looking. Nothing but a high rock outcrop was indicated directly north, but at sixteen degrees—northwest of town—we spotted the words ‘rustic cabin’ beside a small inland lake.

  Fergus got excited. “He said there’s a lake. He catches fish out of it all the time. And he has a patch of flat ground where he’s planted a little garden.”

  The map was not quite that accommodating, but Google Earth helped. Old tech and new tech—a winning combination. The new tech actually showed three possible cabins in the same area. The one we’d picked from the sectional showed signs of life—beaten down earth, the garden Fergus mentioned, and enough space between the structure and the lake for us to land.

  “Does Rory know you’re planning to fly in there?” Drake asked.

  Fergus shook his head.

  “How would he feel about a helicopter suddenly showing up and hovering over his house?”

  The older man’s eyes widened. Only a little, but I spotted it.

  “Would he be likely to come out shooting?” I could tell even Drake hadn’t considered that possibility. I had the distinct feeling Rory McNab was hiding from something out here in the Maine woods.

  Drake spoke up. “Fergus, I need you to get through to your son and let him know what we’re doing. I don’t care about his reasons for being up here, but I’m sure not taking chances with our lives or our aircraft.”

  Fergus nodded. He pulled out a little flip-phone and pressed a couple of buttons. Even from where I stood, I could tell the ringing sound was erratic and crackly.

  Drake looked at his watch. “Look, we don’t have time to do your flight yet today anyway. By the time we plan logistics, get out there, and allow you some time with Rory, we’d be due back here to fuel up and bring back the cable crew. Tomorrow’s the soonest I could promise you.”

  Fergus nodded, looking somewhat disappointed.

  “I want your word that you’ll reach Rory and inform him before we head toward that cabin.”

  Fergus nodded again, extended his hand, and they shook on it. “I’m eighty years old, son. My handshake is my promise.”

  I handed Fergus one of our business cards with our cell numbers on it. “If you aren’t able to reach your son tonight, it’s okay. Just let us know and we’ll schedule your flight later.”

  We watched Fergus walk out to the taxi Harry had called for him, his feet shuffling and shoulders hunched. “I feel badly that we couldn’t just crank up and fly right out there,” I said.

  “Me, too, hon. But something’s not quite making sense and there’s more to the story.”

  “He’s ill. Don’t you think that’s the reason this news has to be shared in person?”

  “That would be my guess. But why couldn’t he have told his son to come back to New Mexico for a visit? Or even to come down from the lake and meet him here in town?”

  “He didn’t think of it?”

  One of his dark eyebrows went up. “Um, maybe.”

  Our afternoon flight went predictably, we grabbed dinner at a steakhouse that boasted lobster rolls on the menu—I could really get used to this—and then we settled back at the Wayside Inn for the evening. Drake watched half of a football game; I showered and settled to finish the last two chapters of the book I’d been nursing along for a week. We were both nodding off by eight and realized we would be facing another early morning.

  Earlier than I’d imagined, as it turned out. My phone rang at two a.m. When I saw it was Ron’s number, I came instantly awake. My brother doesn’t call often, and a middle-of-night call from anyone is rarely good news.

  “They’ve taken Gram to the hospital,” he said.

  “Oh no.” My nerve endings tingled.

  “So far, they’re not telling us much.” A sound, like a rough hand rubbed over scratchy whiskers, came through. “They’re doing tests to see if it’s a heart attack.”

  “I should come. I can’t believe I’m not there for her.”

  “When I get the chance, I’ll tell her we’ve talked. Charlie, don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

  When someone over ninety is rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night, it’s not a sure thing that everything will be okay. I foresaw a million problems, but Ron didn’t have answers. He told me to sit tight and said he would call in the morning with an update. I knew there was nothing to be accomplished by rushing out the door—no flight could get me there in time to make a real difference.

  By now, Drake was sitting up in bed and had switched on the lamp. He had got the gist of the situation, but I had to go through it all again. Somehow, repeating details brought some perspective. Eventually, he pulled me close and turned out the light.

  “Shh, shh,” he whispered. “Hold on to me. It’ll be all right.”

  I held and I shushed, but there was no way I was going to fall asleep and trust that it would be all right.

  Chapter 4

  By four o’clock I gave up the pretense of sleep. We would be getting up in another hour anyway. I slid out from under Drake’s protective arm and tucked the comforter around his shoulders. In the bathroom, I dressed in sweats and a thick fleece pullover and drew my hair up into a ponytail. With coat, muffler, and phone in hand, I slipped out the back door and took a deep breath. The scent of wet leaves calmed me. Wisps of fog hung over the treetops and floated past the street lamps. I set off at a brisk walk.

  It was only two in the morning in Albuquerque. I hadn’t heard from Ron; there was no point in calling and waking him now. I pictured him in a hospital room at Elsa’s bedside, trying to make himself comfortable in whatever recliner or cot they would have provided. I envisioned her peacefully sleeping, under observation by the doctors, but in no real danger. I couldn’t imagine life without my Gram.

  The sidewalk blurred and I tripped on an uneven concrete edge. Stopping to wipe my eyes, I took in a deep breath and blew it out. Elsa would tell me not to ‘borrow trouble.’ She was right—worry never solved anything. I covered two more blocks, turned right heading uphill, circled the several blocks, and ended up with the Wayside Inn in view. A rummage through my pockets told me I’d forgotten to take a key.

  I climbed the steps to the porch, pulled my scarf to cover my ears, and settled myself gently into the cushions on one of the wicker chairs. Other than the tip of my nose feeling a little like a Popsicle, I was comfortable enough from the exertion of my walk. The time alone felt soothing and I waited until the light came on in ou
r room. A tap at the window, Drake’s curious glance out the curtain, and he let me in.

  “Guess I didn’t realize this door locks automatically,” I said.

  “How long were you out there?” He flinched when my hand touched his bare shoulder.

  “I didn’t want to wake you up. Just needed some space.”

  “Nothing from Ron yet?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll call him once we get you out on the flight. You don’t mind taking the first one?”

  “I’ll take them both. You’re distracted, plus you may need to be in town to make some plans.”

  He really is the best, most understanding husband in the entire world.

  * * *

  The fog had thickened by the time we got to the airport, but Harry assured us it would clear within an hour after the sun rose. Drake had already obtained flight weather data and had told me the same thing. Still, with things a little off-kilter in my world, I didn’t want him taking off unless he had perfect conditions. Despite Elsa’s wisdom on the subject, a person can only handle just so much worry at once.

  By eight-thirty, the sky was a milky white with large patches of blue. Drake and the cable crew were ready to go and I watched the aircraft become a little dot in the sky. I got on the phone with Ron, knowing he was probably not even through his first cup of coffee for the day.

  “It was a heart attack,” he told me. “Right now she’s stable and she slept well for several hours. Still, nothing is certain. She is ninety-two years old.”

  I didn’t need reminding. “I’m coming home. I can get a flight out of Portland, and although there are a couple of connections, I can be there by tonight. There’s just one thing I need to do here first, but Drake can shuttle me to the Portland airport.”

  “You know you don’t need to …”

  “No. I do. I’ll be there. I’ll call you when my arrival time is certain.” I hung up before he could say anything more, although I had a feeling he wasn’t going to try to talk me out of coming. A quick visit to my favorite travel app and I’d booked my trip to Albuquerque.

  Drake had barely returned from the first ferry flight when Fergus McNab showed up.

  “I see I’m right on time,” he said. He had a small carry-on sized suitcase with him.

  “We got a late start because of the fog today,” I told him. “Let’s see if we can find you a comfortable place to settle while Drake does the second flight. It’ll be about ninety minutes.”

  Fergus looked none too happy. “I called Rory. He knows I’m coming. I made out like this is a surprise for my birthday. It’s next week.”

  “Fergus, there’s something more—” My phone rang and I saw it was Drake.

  “Is that Fergus McNab sitting inside with you?” he asked.

  “I told him about our getting a late start this morning. He’s okay with waiting.”

  “What about your flight out of Portland? What time is that?”

  I realized we would be cutting it close by the time Drake ferried two workers out to the job site, came back for Fergus and did his flight, then came back for me.

  “We’ve got the space,” he said. “Bring him out. I’ll take everyone at once.”

  I stowed Fergus’s bag in the cargo compartment alongside three metal baskets of tools, then buckled the older man into the front seat. It was a bit of a squeeze, but I put myself in the middle back seat, between two burly linemen in hard hats. The forty-five minute run wasn’t the most pleasant ride I’d ever taken—I could swear at least one of the workers wore yesterday’s shirt and hadn’t showered—but it was over soon enough. Once they and their gear were gone, I moved to the seat behind Drake so I had a view of Fergus. I intended to continue the earlier conversation, although it would be hampered by engine and rotor noise and the static of the intercom line.

  “Fergus … are you really going out to celebrate your birthday? Yesterday you said something … it sounded like this visit to your son is pretty urgent.”

  “I s’pose it is. Doctors give me six months. I figure within a few weeks I won’t be able to make a trip like this.”

  “Are you in chemo or something like that?”

  “Nah. Did that once, not doing it again. I go only often enough to get my pain meds renewed. I’m eighty. What’s the point in going through all that, just so’s I can live an extra, what—maybe another year at best. I’d rather be done with it.”

  I understood. Although, with the fresh news about Elsa being in the hospital, my own urge was to do everything to save her. Maybe the decision is easier for the patient than for those around him or her.

  “So, wouldn’t it have been easier to get Rory to come visit you? He must be pretty young and fit if he’s living in a cabin all alone up here.”

  His mouth worked for a moment but he decided to ignore my point-blank question. “I’m staying a week,” he said, looking at Drake. “That is, if you’re willing to come back and pick me up.”

  “I’ll do that,” Drake assured him. We had worked out credit card payment for the service, and as long as the fiber optic cable job didn’t interfere, there was no reason not to accommodate the man. “We’re getting close, according to the GPS coordinates. Let me know if you spot the lake or the cabin, okay?”

  I got the feeling it was an exercise more to keep Fergus busy and me from asking more. It truly was none of our business why the customer had booked the flight. Drake has such an eagle eye for things on the ground, he certainly doesn’t need anyone’s help. But I watched anyway and did spot a glint of sunlight on water, at about the same time Drake pointed ahead.

  He brought the helicopter down to a hundred feet or so above treetop, circling to be sure we had the right lake and the right cabin. Sure enough, the shingle roof looked exactly as it had on the screen of my tablet yesterday.

  “Rory said he would drag his red canoe down to the shore of the lake,” Fergus told us. “There it is. It’s his place!”

  While Drake concentrated on landing in the clearing between the water’s edge and the cabin, I scanned the area surrounding the simple log cabin. No road or driveway in sight. There must be a small path leading to a way out. Fergus had mentioned Rory hiking in and out. A person couldn’t live modern life without some method of shopping, could he? Fish and a vegetable garden could only go so far. How had he brought in tools, furnishings … how did he get a cell signal? As appealing as a life off the grid sounded, my inner organizer had to know how everyday matters would work.

  Our skids touched lightly on the rocky ground near the lake. Drake said he would keep the engine running if I would help Fergus with his bag. I hopped out and unbuckled our passenger, giving him a hand as he climbed out. The little suitcase was surprisingly light; he must have packed no more than a couple of changes of clothes and a shaving kit. Securing all the doors and compartments, I carried the bag and followed Fergus to the front door.

  Behind a screen door, I glimpsed the silhouette of a slim man with hands on hips. When he realized I was walking up to the covered porch, he stepped out of sight.

  “I’ll get it from here,” Fergus said, reaching for the bag the minute his feet touched the porch.

  I stood on the split-log step and handed it up to him. “Okay, then. Thanks for flying with us. Drake will be back to pick you up next Thursday. You have our numbers if there’s any change in plans.”

  I climbed into the front seat where Fergus had been, buckled myself in, and put on a headset.

  “All set, I guess,” I said to Drake. We verbally went through our little checklist about having closed the cargo doors, etcetera, and he brought up the engine RPM. I turned toward the cabin to wave goodbye, but the wooden front door was now closed and nary a curtain moved at any of the windows.

  “Well, that task is done until next week,” he said as we lifted away from the spot.

  I let go of the questions I’d wanted to ask Fergus. Silly of me to think I needed details about someone else’s personal life. He was a man with sad news
to deliver to his son. I had to leave it at that. My bigger concerns lay at home where someone very close to me was hovering at life’s edge.

  I’d left the B&B this morning without packing a bag, since I’d had no idea what news Ron’s phone call would bring. A glance at my watch told me there was no time to go back for clothes and toiletries, and they didn’t matter anyway. Drake pointed the nose in the direction of Portland where I would be delivered in fine style for my commercial flight to Albuquerque, and he would refuel and go back to Safe Port in time to fly out and pick up his crew.

  Twenty-four hours ago, I could not have predicted any of this. Twenty-four hours from now, what will fate have delivered?

  Chapter 5

  By my calculation I’d been awake nearly two days straight by the time my feet hit the sidewalk outside the Albuquerque terminal at eleven p.m. and Ron’s vehicle pulled up. I wanted to rush to Elsa’s bedside, but one look at me and Ron vetoed that idea.

  “She’s asleep, under enough medication she won’t even know you’re there. And, frankly, you look like a bag lady and don’t smell all that great.”

  “Gee, thanks.” But I knew he was right, and what are brothers for anyway?

  I walked into a too-empty house. Freckles had been staying at Ron’s for the last two weeks, and not much lingered of the familiar doggie scent of her fur, her paws, her food. I missed her and, depending on how much time I ended up at the hospital in coming days, I would soon bring her home. Being dog-less was the main thing I hated about travel on our helicopter jobs.

  A shower and comfy bed beckoned. I must have slept well—next thing I knew it was seven o’clock and a sunbeam brightened the bedroom. I pulled on fresh jeans and sweater, grabbed my purse and hoped my Jeep would start without a hitch, having sat in the driveway so long.

  Next door, Elsa’s house looked forlorn. To my practiced eye, the living room drapes should be open, a sprinkler would be spritzing the lawn, and those fallen leaves would not be lying on the front porch. I walked over and picked up the newspaper and checked her mailbox, gathering the few things that would be a giveaway to the fact no one was home.