Izzy's hand clenched around the phone so hard she thought the screen might crack. The hydraulic fluid smell suddenly turned nauseating, and she had to grab the helicopter's skid to keep from swaying.
Andrew.
MY daughter. Possessive. Threatening.
And that stupid emoji—he'd always thought he was so clever, so charming. The "see you soon" made her blood run cold. Was he already here? On his way?
"Honey, you just went white as a sheet." Martha touched her shoulder, voice shifting from teasing to concerned in an instant.
"Just... unexpected news." Izzy forced herself to breathe normally. "I need a minute."
She retreated to the break room, legs unsteady. Why now?
He'd seen Chantal exactly three times since abandoning them when their daughter was five months old. Never paid a dime of support. Never showed an ounce of interest in the beautiful, bright little girl who sometimes asked why she didn't have a daddy like other kids.
Izzy splashed cold water on her face, trying to think. She needed to get back out there before Martha organized a search party.
When she returned to the hangar, the volunteers had shifted into their favorite pastime—gossip disguised as shop talk.
"Tom Morrison's coming by again," Bill grumbled, wiping his hands on a rag. "Another 'routine' inspection."
Martha snorted. "Third one this year. Ever since those crashes started, he's been hovering like a worried hen."
"You hear MedFlight's been sniffing around?" Old Frank looked up from the engine manual he'd been studying. At seventy-eight, he still volunteered three days a week. "Offering to buy out the volunteer program. Say they want to 'modernize' operations."
"Like they modernized Bakersfield?" Bill's expression darkened. "Shut down the volunteer program, started charging five figures per flight?"
"Heard the hospital administrators have been getting threats," Martha added, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Anonymous calls. 'Accept the buyout or else' kind of thing."
"What kind of threats?" Izzy forced herself to engage, needing the distraction.
"Don't know exactly. Probably some corporate intimidation tactics." Frank shook his head. "In my day, business was done with handshakes, not threats."
The conversation felt distant, unimportant compared to the phone burning in her pocket. She kept checking it obsessively, as if Andrew might text again with details about his plan. Or maybe hoping he'd text "Just kidding" and disappear back to whatever Florida bar he'd crawled out of.
"Afternoon, folks." Tom Morrison's voice interrupted her spiral. The insurance adjuster stood in the doorway, his too-large puffy jacket wilting in the hangar's warmth. His wife Janet hovered behind him, clipboard in hand and lips pursed in their perpetual expression of mild disapproval.
"Just need to verify maintenance logs, check compliance," the insurance adjuster said, already looking overwhelmed by the task.
"Tom, you forgot to check the tail rotor logs last time," Janet said crisply, organizing papers with serious efficiency. "And the avionics certification expires next month. You'll need to note that."
"Right, right. Thank you, dear." Tom accepted the papers she handed him, clearly lost without her guidance.
Izzy mechanically provided the requested documentation, her responses on autopilot. Tom asked questions, Janet rephrased them when he stumbled, and Izzy answered without really hearing any of it. Her mind kept circling back to Andrew's text. That possessive "MY daughter." The implied threat in "see you soon."
"I need to use the restroom," she announced abruptly.
Once safely locked in the small bathroom, Izzy sat on the closed toilet lid and let her hands shake. She'd always been too independent, too proud to ask for help. Hadn't she proven she could handle single motherhood? Hadn't she built a life without anyone's help?
But this was different. This was about her daughter.
Her fingers moved across her phone screen before she could second-guess herself. She texted Zara, their cybersecurity expert. Z would do anything for Chantal. For Izzy, too.
Got a problem.
The response was immediate:
Zara: Just landed in Vancouver for fuel. What can I do?
