"Should've killed you instantly." His hands tightened on the wheel. "Instead it barely took out your vehicle."
"Amateur hour." Dark humor, her forever coping mechanism. "Probably thought a little C4 goes a long way. Shaped it wrong too—most of the blast went sideways instead of up through the floorboard." She laughed, not in a funny way. "Great. I'm being hunted by someone who probably googled 'how to build car bomb' and followed the first result." She straightened in her seat as the FAA hangar came into view. "Though I guess I should thank him for flunking chemistry. If he'd used the right amount?—"
"We'd both be dead." The words came out harsh.
She glanced at him. "A good thing you saw that wire."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Almost wasn't fast enough."
She wanted to say something—thank him again, maybe, or make another joke to ease the tension crackling between them. But the words stuck in her throat. They both knew how close it had been. How different this morning would've looked if he'd been even one second slower.
"But you were fast enough," she said finally, voice steady. "That's what counts."
He nodded once, sharp, and she knew that was all they'd say about it. For now.
He slowed as they hit the alleyway between the hangars. Official vehicles clustered around the taped off entry to Mountain Angel’s hangar—government plates, rental cars, and one suspiciously pristine Audi that made Izzy’s shoulders tense.
"Ugh," she muttered.
"Play nice," Cory warned.
"I can do that." At his skeptical look, she amended, "I know how to fake playing nice. Kind of."
"Close enough."
Danny Flores stood guard again, but his misery lifted when he spotted Cory's vehicle. "Chief. Ms. Reyes. You're cleared to enter.”
The words hit differently than yesterday's rejection. Having the law on her side felt strange but good. She walked through those doors like she belonged there—because she did, whether Reed Osgood liked it or not.
Speaking of Reed, his face when he spotted her was pure vinegar. "Ms. Reyes shouldn't be?—"
"She's consulting at my request." Cory's tone brooked no argument. "Problem?"
Reed's mouth worked like a fish out of water, but movement behind him caught Izzy's attention. Sloane Barnes-Nakamura stood near the damaged Cessna, designer athleisure wear impeccable, phone held up like she was documenting everything.
"What's she doing here?" Izzy didn't bother hiding her suspicion.
Reed straightened defensively. "MedFlight has graciously offered their forensic services if needed. Professional courtesy in the air medical community."
Yeah, I'll bet.
SBN's shark smile appeared as she approached. "Ms. Reyes. Chief Fraser. We're all in this together, aren't we? Such a tragedy for Mountain Angel."
Why did the woman's sympathetic tone make Izzy want to smash something? A perfectly made-up nose, maybe?
Danny hovered near the door, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. But Izzy's attention caught on another figure—a skinny mechanic lurking near the Cessna's engine compartment. Something familiar about him nagged at her. Airport rat, maybe? She'd seen him around, but couldn't place him exactly.
What she could place was the way he wouldn't meet her eyes. How he kept edging toward the damaged servo assembly like a moth to flame. Her instincts, honed by years of reading hostile intent in foreign countries, screamed warnings.
She caught Cory's eye. He gave a subtle nod—he'd noticed too. Good. At least her new "partner" had solid instincts.
"Let's look at the servo assembly," she said, pulling on nitrile gloves.
"Chain of custody?" Reed practically shrieked. "You can't just?—"
"I'm documenting the failure pattern." She kept her voice level. "Unless you'd prefer to wait for the FBI and explain why you prevented a qualified expert from examining evidence?"
Cory stepped in, trying to bridge the gap. "She needs to follow proper procedure, but she also needs to identify what caused this. Reed, you document while she examines. Maintain the chain."
