"Who signed off on the last inspection?" Reed Osgood's voice carried across the lot.
The question hung in the cold air. Cory saw Martha and Bill exchange glances, an uncomfortable silence settling over the assembled group.
Then Izzy stepped forward, delicate chin raised, meeting Cory's eyes directly. "I did. Yesterday afternoon. Full inspection, all systems were perfect."
She moved closer to the helicopter, her stance pure challenge. "Every connection, every line, every control surface. It was textbook perfect. I'd stake my career on it."
Cory saw the certainty in her expression—not defiance, but absolute confidence in her work. Whatever had happened to this helicopter, she knew it wasn't her mistake.
"Controls were fine on takeoff," the pilot confirmed, still looking shaken. "Problem developed about five minutes into flight. Just... degraded rapidly."
Reed made notes about "apparent mechanical failure" while SBN circled the scene, taking photos with her phone. Tom attempted to look authoritative while Janet took notes.
Every instinct Cory had developed in fifteen years of law enforcement was screaming. This felt orchestrated, staged. But staged for whose benefit?
Finally, the helicopter sat secured on the flatbed, ready for transport back to the hangar for detailed inspection. The crowd began to disperse, though reluctantly.
SBN made a point of handing out business cards "in case anyone needs to discuss this unfortunate incident." Cory pocketed one, noting she was staying at the Evergreen Lodge—the most expensive hotel in town.
He found Izzy still documenting, taking final photos as the flatbed prepared to leave. Exhaustion lined her face, and heremembered she'd been dealing with her ex-husband's threats on top of everything else.
"Go home," he said quietly. "Get some rest."
She looked up, surprised. "There's still work to?—"
"That can wait. Your daughter needs her mom, and you need sleep."
He saw her soften at the mention of Chantal, the protective mother overriding the determined mechanic. She nodded slowly, gathering her tools.
As she walked to her truck, Cory noted three sets of eyes tracking her movement—SBN's calculating gaze, Reed's professional assessment, and Janet Morrison's sharp attention while Tom remained oblivious.
The flatbed rumbled to life, beginning its careful journey back to town with the wounded helicopter. Someone had orchestrated this gathering, someone who knew exactly who to call and when.
7
Izzy white-knuckledthe steering wheel as she navigated Hope Landing's tiny sliver of morning traffic, her mind churning through servo actuator specifications instead of focusing on the road. The radio droned about weather patterns, but she switched it off with an irritated jab. She couldn't stop replaying yesterday's inspection—every bolt torqued to spec, every connection secure, every surface cleaned and checked.
What did I miss?
Nothing. She'd missed nothing. Ten years of maintaining aircraft in the field under combat conditions. She knew the difference between thorough and perfect. Yesterday had been perfect.
The dashboard clock mocked her. 8:47 AM. She should have been at the hangar at dawn, should have been first on scene to examine the helicopter. But Chantal needed to get to school, needed her lunch money counted out just right, needed reassurance that Mommy would pick her up after school. Her own mom, still navigating with that walker, wouldn't be cleared to drive for another month.
Plus, no way she’d have her mother and Chantal in public alone while Andrew was in town.
Single motherhood meant priorities, even when helicopters were falling out of the sky.
She checked the rearview mirror—a new habit since Zara's text last night. No suspicious vehicles, no sign of Andrew's rental car. Just normal Hope Landing morning traffic and her own paranoia staring back at her.
The Knight Tactical hangar loomed ahead. Something in her chest loosened at the sight. Even empty, it felt like home. She punched in her access code and stepped into the familiar space, the scent of aviation fuel and gun oil wrapping around her like a security blanket.
She missed her team.
The hangar felt cavernous without Kenji's terrible jokes echoing off the walls, without Deke's steady presence in the briefing room, without Axel raiding his emergency snack drawer. Even Zara's quiet typing would have been welcome. They were somewhere in Alaska, digging clients out of snow, investigating whether an avalanche had been natural disaster or attempted murder.
Her phone buzzed as she reached the equipment lockers.
Ronan: Heard about Bozo showing up. You need us, we're there.
