Better than chocolate or whiskey.
Chapter Seventeen
Roz had to show her face at the office Tuesday morning and check in with the reporters to make sure everyone was on track. Alden suggested they might as well face John’s dressing-down now. So she put on nice black pants with a cute wide belt, a white tank, a cropped black denim jacket and short boots with a low heel, preparing for battle.
Alden drove them to the Courier-Beacon office downtown. Her car was still parked outside. She’d need it. They expected to be on different tracks again today.
Oh, who was she kidding? She had no idea what track she’d be on today. That was one reason she loved this job.
What she didn’t love was John’s scolding. Why were they gallivanting about in an airplane? Why didn’t they ask him before they went? And why didn’t they get Hai to go along? He seemed to forget Hai was off pursuing golf pros.
On the other hand, John was super excited about all the clicks, partly because Webb Howard, their absentee publisher, had sent him a Way To Go email this morning.
They finally escaped his glass office and ran into Bruce, who’d just topped off his Star Trek mug at the coffee station. “That looked like it hurt,” he said with a smirk.
“He’s not the only one who can inflict pain around here,” Roz told him.
Bruce blanched. “Geez, touchy.” But he was smiling as he scampered off to his desk.
They also ran into Hai, who’d stopped by to pick up a package. “I hear John was upset you didn’t ask me to go along on the flight.”
“A little,” Alden replied. “Sorry about that.”
“I really appreciate your not asking me. You two are cursed.” The photographer’s mouth twitched with humor. “I’m off to hunt down nudists with Janice.” And he was off, leaving only Bruce typing away with his headphones on.
“So glad we’re such a source of amusement for the staff,” Roz muttered as she headed toward her corner.
“We’re helping morale,” Alden said wryly, dropping into the chair next to her desk. He looked delicious in dark jeans and a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up. He swam regularly at the gym. Roz went with him sometimes but did more looking than exercising.
“Shall we go over the trouble we’re getting into today?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. He probably caught her looking.
“That’s the problem. We don’t know what the trouble is until we’re in the middle of it. I’ve already sent Sebastian a request for the contract he had with Wayne. Hang on.” Roz opened her laptop and checked her email. There was an email from Sebastian … yes! “I almost can’t believe it. He sent it to me. That’s what I’ll be working on. And I suppose I can’t avoid some editing. I’m also hoping Sheryl drops by, but if she doesn’t, I’m going to track her down.”
“I’m going to the airport,” Alden said. “I intend to find out more about our doomed plane.”
“You have something in mind?”
“I do.”
“Will you have time to press Enolia for more info about Wayne?”
“We talked about contacting Craig first,” he said. “I can do that. Let’s touch base later.”
“Definitely stay in touch,” Roz said. “I don’t like the way this is going, and I don’t want to worry about you.”
He briefly caressed her shoulder as he stood, and the touch settled her.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m more worried about deadline.”
“As you should be,” she joked as she watched him leave. But she did worry about him. There was somebody scary out there doing bad things. And the more they learned, the more they put themselves in harm’s way.
Alden shook off the cold prickle that ran up his spine as he parked behind Sebastian Esquivel’s hangar at the Comet Cove Airport.
It’s OK. You’re not getting on a plane today. No matter who asks.
He wondered idly if he needed therapy—not for the first time—as he locked up the Miata, opened the unlocked back door of the hangar and wandered in.
It was half empty. Chuck’s biplane stood there. But Sebastian’s Cessna 172 didn’t. So where was it?
