Reese used the control on the steering wheel to turn down the volume on the radio. “I understand you met with Drew Wilcox.”
“He called you?”
“Just to let me know he’d talked to you and was taking the case. How did it go?”
“I liked Drew very much and so did Gran. He seemed confident and extremely capable.” He also seemed to understand that even with her generous salary, there was never enough money when you had two other people depending on you.
“Have you told Griff his dad wants custody?”
“Not yet. I’m hoping Drew will present my case—a single mother supporting her son and grandmother—and get the court to alter the divorce stipulations and allow me to keep my full-time job.”
He nodded. “If that happens, Lee’s case will never get off the ground.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Drew has submitted some kind of brief that asks the judge for a dismissal. He thinks there’s at least a chance of that happening.”
“What about Lee?”
“If Lee wants more time with Griff, I don’t have any objections, but I doubt that’s what he’s really after.”
The Rover slowed, Reese changed lanes, and through the heavy morning mist, Galveston appeared on the horizon. The windshield wipers went on, the blades sweeping intermittently across the glass.
“We’re almost there,” Reese said as he continued through Galveston traffic, then turned onto the Pelican Island Causeway. At the heliport, he parked the Rover, and Kenzie stepped out into the misty sea air. She was glad she had dressed down a little, in brown pants and a blue-and-beige-print blouse, belted at the waist, no jacket, since the temperature was still warm.
Reese had dressed more casually, as well, in crisp, perfectly creased dark blue jeans and a yellow knit pullover. Instead of sneakers, he wore expensive Italian loafers.
He held open the glass door to the main office, and they walked up to the reception desk. A young blond man rose as Reese approached. “May I help you?”
“I’m Reese Garrett. I’ve got an appointment with Supervisor Brandt.”
The nameRyanflashed on the young man’s gold-plated name tag. “Mr. Brandt is expecting you. If you’ll please follow me.”
Robert Brandt was in his late forties, with thinning brown hair and a slight paunch over the waistband of his dark brown slacks. He extended his hand, which Reese shook.
“This is my assistant, Kenzie Haines.”
“Ms. Haines.” Brandt nodded in her direction and turned back to Reese. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your injuries.”
“I was lucky. Two other men weren’t. The crash is what I’m here to talk to you about.”
Brandt nodded. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”
They sat down in sky blue vinyl chairs in front of Brandt’s gray metal desk. There were a couple of file cabinets the same bland gray. Framed aerial photos of Sea Titan’s offshore platforms lined the walls.
“By now you know the crash wasn’t an accident,” Reese said, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s right. Frank Milburn called me.”
“I want to know who was responsible and why it happened. I need the names of all the people onboard that day, including the pilot and copilot. I want the names of the mechanics and anyone who had access to the chopper.”
It was information Reese could have pressed for and gotten over the phone, but Kenzie knew he wanted to talk to the people involved in person, see if he could get some answers.
Brandt fell silent.
“If you need to get an approval, I’d suggest you call someone at Sea Titan who can give it to you. It was one of their choppers that went down, and I was on my way to one of their offshore platforms when it happened.”
Brandt conceded with a nod and reached for the phone. “I’ll make the call, but getting an approval might take a while.”
“Keep in mind, a lot more people are going to want the same information—including the FBI.”
