Unbridled Murder

by Leigh Hearon

  Annie excused herself from the conversation. She already knew more than she really cared to know about how Tony had died. Representatives from both the Snoqualmie police and fire departments had been more than accommodating as far as sharing information. Of course, their reports only covered what they had seen and done at the crash scene, after the fact. But according to several eyewitnesses, the crisis in the air had begun just as the plane crested the Snoqualmie ski lodge. In August, the lodge was well populated with tourists and employees, and so there was a dizzying array of statements from people who claimed they had seen exactly what had happened.

  Annie, Dan, and Kim had pored through the statements on Friday morning, as soon as they’d landed in Dan’s e-mail in-box.

  The one thing every witness agreed on was that they’d heard the Cessna before they’d actually seen it.

  The clouds rolled in all morning, wrote one witness. By one o’clock, the mountains had disappeared behind one massive cloud bank. My wife was complaining about the lousy weather and wanted to leave. We were outside on our deck discussing it when we heard the sound of a plane overhead. When it emerged from the clouds, you could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t flying straight like you normally see. It was listing a bit to the left and losing altitude.

  Other people claimed they had seen a fire inside the cockpit as the plane descended.

  I remember hearing the plane first, then seeing it come out of the clouds. But the engine sounded different—it was sputtering and coughing, like it was dying, wrote another witness. Then the engine just sputtered to a stop. All I saw was the plane dropping pretty rapidly toward us. I saw a flash of light in the cockpit and thought, that plane’s on fire! For a moment, I thought it was going to crash into the lodge. But it zoomed past it and over the parking lot and out into the forest. We all heard the crash. The noise was terrible.

  One witness, a hiker, had actually seen the crash.

  I was at a trailhead about five hundred feet away when I saw a plane on fire coming by me, was the hiker’s blunt description. Clouds of black smoke were trailing out in back and it looked like it was going a million miles an hour from where I was standing. The wings scraped off the branches of at least four old-growth trees before the nose hit the ground. And then it just exploded. The flames went up nearly as high as the trees. I took off running for the lodge. I could feel the heat from the fire from where I’d been standing.

  When they were done reading, Dan, Annie, and Kim stared at each other in numb silence. Every statement made Tony’s death more real—and more puzzling. The medical examiner’s latest pronouncement confirmed that the fire had started on board and in midair, and several witnesses thought this, too. Now, the question Annie and everyone else around the table were asking themselves was why? Why did the plane catch on fire at all? And how?

  According to fire department reports, little remained of the Cessna. It had taken only twenty minutes to put out the blaze, but the damage had been done and judging by the photos they’d sent Dan, it was extensive. The landing gear was gone, presumably ripped off when the Cessna met the forest floor. Both wings had broken off, and the nose of the plane looked like that of a pugilist who’d just lost his last fight. The propeller was twisted beyond repair. Because the fire had started in the cockpit, the instrument panel was one black, sooty mess, and all the wires attached behind the dashboard were charred and broken. According to Dan, it would take a forensic expert to determine which wires were damaged in the fire and which might have been tampered with, if that, in fact, was the source for the fire. As he explained to Annie, the fire could have been caused by any number of reasons, some perfectly innocent and others less so.

  The National Transportation Safety Board was now on the job, but getting updates from this organization was like pulling teeth, Dan said.

  “They’ll take their own sweet time getting back to us,” he grumbled. “By the time they get around to telling us what caused the fire, I’ll be retired. The only thing they’ll tell me is it’s a ‘hull loss accident,’ which I take to mean that plane will never fly again.”

  Annie wanted to remind Dan that it had only been two days since the crash but resisted the urge. She intuitively knew that any federal agency involved in oversight of plane crashes would not be inclined to give out information prematurely, especially if criminal intent was involved. And Annie suspected it was.

  “Have you talked to Tony’s buddy Rick yet?” she asked the sheriff. “Maybe he can pull some strings.”

  “He’ll be here in an hour. Stick around if you want. Kim’s off to see the folks. I’ll fill her in later.”

  Annie had only met Rick once before, at Tony’s thirtieth birthday party. The man who entered the sheriff’s office on that afternoon held no resemblance to the jocular and gregarious guy who only a few years ago had regaled the audience with Tony’s high-school hijinks. Now he was pale and somber, and obviously wracked with guilt.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for not sticking around and taking him home,” he told Dan in a hoarse voice. “It was my kid’s soccer game, that’s all, the first of the season. The guys at the community airport recommended Danny Trevor, and when I talked to him on the phone, he seemed perfectly capable. More than capable, in fact. Said he’d been a commercial pilot for nearly twenty years, some Asian airline that flew to Thailand, Japan, I don’t know. But he made trips across the globe, for God’s sake. How could he go down on a puddle jumper?”

  Rick already had done all the due diligence he could from his end. Unfortunately, it still didn’t explain why a fire should have erupted in the plane a half hour after takeoff.

  “As soon as I got the news, I called the ground crew at county airport,” Rick told Annie and Dan. “They were as shocked as anyone. Trevor was a frequent flyer, had a good reputation as a pilot, and had built a brisk business ferrying hunters and fishers back and forth across the mountains. Never had a problem with his aircraft before. His annual inspection was coming up in the next few months, but the guys said he always inspected the plane before loading up.”

  “Why didn’t he radio for help?” Annie asked. It seemed the most obvious question.

  Rick smiled patiently at her. “Probably wouldn’t have done much good if he had,” he said gently, “but the fact was, he didn’t have any contact with air traffic control on this flight.”

  “What the hell? Had his radio gone out?” This came from Dan.

  “I guess that’s something the NTSB’s figuring out right now. But the truth is he didn’t need to be in contact with anyone. The flight from Loman to the Port Chester International Airport takes a little over an hour, and in weather like this, there’s no need for him to be flying IFR.”

  “IFR? What in the Sam Hill is that?”

  “Sorry, instrument flight rules. Generally speaking, airplanes like a Cessna 180 can fly two ways—by visual flight rules, or VFR, or instrument flight rules, IFR. VFR is perfectly fine when the weather’s good, the view is unobstructed, and there’s little or no competing air traffic. If a pilot chooses this route, he doesn’t have to do much except check his plane and take off. He’s not required to file a flight plan. He’s not required to stay in touch with ATC—” Seeing the quizzical look in Annie’s eyes, Rick paused, and continued, “Air traffic control, and he doesn’t even have to follow a predefined flight plan. He can literally wing it.”

  Annie and Dan digested this information for a moment. Then Dan demanded, “How about that cloud cover over Snoqualmie? Shouldn’t he have checked weather conditions over the mountains before he took off?’

  Rick paused. “Yes and no. I chose to fly IFR going over with Tony the day before, and the pass was as clear as could be. I could have flown VFR—I just tend to be careful. Plus, I like having contact with ATC. Just makes me feel a bit safer. We don’t know if Trevor checked the weather in the mountain passes before taking off. But even if he did, it might have shown the same blue sky as I encountered twenty-four hours before. The weat
her’s a bit unpredictable in that part of the sky, and cloud banks have been known to come in unexpectedly.”

  “Well, he should have known that,” Annie said bitterly. “If he’s as good a pilot as everyone says he is, I mean was, he should have anticipated that.”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “And why do you say even if he had contact with air control, it wouldn’t have made any difference?

  “Because, Ms. Carson, even though Trevor was flying in a dense cloud bank, chances were very good that he’d have come out of it all right. He knew the terrain, and he wasn’t going to fly without clear visual cues for very long. It’s unlikely he would have flown the plane into a mountain.

  He smiled sadly at both of his listeners.

  “The real question is why a Cessna 180, even one flying in a cloud bank, should suddenly catch on fire. That’s what caused the plane to crash. Trevor might have cut a few corners, but unless he lit a cigarette in the cockpit or he or the ground crew didn’t properly check out the plane before it took off, it was sabotaged. And that means someone wanted to kill Danny Trevor, my good friend Tony Elizalde, or both.”

  Dan and Annie sat silently in his office long after Rick had left, until the sun finally began to make its descent into the western skies. They’d also learned from Rick that the Cessna 180 had nothing like the black box found on commercial jets. That knowledge, along with the absence of radio communication, was downright depressing. Although neither of them said it, they were thinking the same thing: that whatever Tony and Trevor might have said as flames erupted in the Cessna’s cockpit and the plane plummeted toward the earth would forever be unknown. Unless the NTSB unearthed a clue—a smoking gun—in the rubble, the reason Tony died might have died with him.

  CHAPTER 6

  SATURDAY EVENING, AUGUST 6

  Driving home that night, Annie made a decision. Nothing would bring back Tony Elizalde; he was beyond saving. But there were four horses in the Loman feedlot, already bought and paid for, that could be saved. She silently vowed that she would oversee their transport back to the Peninsula if she had to bring them back herself. No one, or nothing, would dissuade her.

  Her smartphone buzzed and she glanced down at the screen, an act that seemed like second nature to her now. Travis Latham’s name appeared, and she felt a rush of guilt, realizing that she had yet to talk to her old friend following the news of Tony’s death. She let it go to voicemail. She’d call him later, when she had a glass of Glenlivet in one hand. Pulling into her long, sloping driveway, she noticed that Lisa, who had become an indispensable rock in her and her horses’ lives, was already here, feeding the horses without waiting to be asked. It was time to tell her just how appreciated she was—and to ask for a favor.

  The smell of horses, hay, and saddle leather engulfed Annie as she entered the stalls. It acted as an instant balm, as did the appearance of her dependable stable assistant.

  Lisa was combing Trooper’s tail in his stall, while he munched on hay from his rack. The Thoroughbred was accommodating that way. A few months ago, he’d come from the racetrack, where he had undoubtedly been groomed on a regular basis, but perhaps not with the love and care that the women in his life now bestowed.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Annie said simply as she walked toward Trooper’s stall.

  Lisa turned toward her and smiled. “Being here makes me happy. It feels good to be around your horses.”

  Annie slipped into the stall and stroked Trooper’s mane. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear that because I need to ask another favor of you now.”

  Lisa’s eyes sparkled. Annie suspected for a horse-crazy just-turned-twenty-one-year-old, working at her stables probably seemed like the ultimate dream job.

  “I need to make some calls first. But if things go as I hope they do, I’ll need you to stay here and take full care of the horses for a few days, maybe as many as three or four. The sheep will need feeding, as well. I’ll leave you Sasha so you have some company and protection. Can you do all that for me? I realize it’s pretty short notice.”

  “No problem. Hunter’s so low-maintenance now that it’s easy to come here and help out. I still can’t thank you enough for saving his life last spring.”

  When Annie had first met Lisa, her quarter horse, Hunter, had been chronically colicking. Annie had diagnosed the issue and convinced Lisa’s vet to treat Hunter accordingly. She realized she was now a bit of a heroine in Lisa’s eyes. The thought was not entirely displeasing.

  “Take the day off tomorrow, Lisa. I can handle the horse chores. The only thing that’s going on is Tony’s funeral, and that’s in the afternoon. But be prepared to move in on Monday morning. I don’t know how long I’ll be away. I hope it’s only for a few days. But you might have to stick around a bit longer.”

  There were so many people Annie had spoken to in the past few days that she didn’t even know, and so many people that she hadn’t and desperately wanted to.

  Marcus was a prime example. Her last conversation with him had been on Wednesday, three full days ago, when she’d proudly regaled him with her new prowess as a smartphone user. On Thursday morning, Marcus had flown to London on business and she knew his return date was at least a week away.

  She’d found a text from him on her phone on Friday morning:

  Dan just shared the devastating news about Tony. Will call as soon as I can—8-hour time difference makes it a bit challenging. Hope you’re getting the answers I know you need. Keep your chin up. Love, Marcus.

  Annie dutifully sent a text back to Marcus, assuring him she was fine. It was her first text, ever, and Annie discovered she did not much like the process. Hannah had taught her how to use the microphone to dictate texts, but the icon now proved elusive, and she was in no mood for another tutorial. She painstakingly pecked out her brief reply and hoped that Marcus would call, and soon.

  He did not. And Annie had been so consumed with finding out the whys and wherefores of the plane crash that by the time she tumbled into bed at night, she had no energy to speak to anyone. Consequently, while she’d met and talked to at least fifteen members of the Elizalde clan and shared condolences and memories of Tony with nearly every deputy on the Suwana County payroll, she still hadn’t talked with the people she knew and liked most.

  Pouring herself a generous shot of Glenlivet, she settled into her most comfortable chair and picked up her new cell. She had a pile of people to talk to and started with Travis Latham, with whom she’d established a fast friendship earlier this year, despite an age difference of at least forty years.

  Travis was one of the county’s most distinguished citizens, who now was in charge of repurposing Hilda Colbert’s equestrian property as a place where boys at risk might make a new start. He’d named it “Alex’s Place” after his grandson, who had died at the hand of juvenile bullies several years before. Despite a gruff exterior, Travis was one of the kindest and most empathetic people Annie had ever met. Sasha, her Belgian Tervuren pup, adored him, and Annie had promised Travis the pup was his after her training as a companion dog was complete. Years before, Travis had suffered a stroke, from which he had mostly recovered. Still, he was now in his eighties and lived alone by choice. Annie had decided early in their friendship that he needed a dog, and so far Travis had not said no.

  “Hold on, Annie, I’m just making a cup of hot chocolate,” he told her when she called his home landline. She could hear the sounds of someone working in the kitchen and patiently waited while she stroked Sasha, now at her feet. A few minutes later, Travis picked up the phone.

  “How are you doing, dear girl?” he asked. Annie felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. Trust Travis to inquire about her well-being first instead of plunging into the awful news at hand.

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice quavering a bit. She willed herself to snap out of it. “I’ve been hanging out at the sheriff’s office waiting for news. None of it has been very good, I’m afraid.
We still don’t know what caused the crash. Or if it was intentional, which is what I care about.”

  “You, Dan, and most everyone I’ve spoken to, including myself,” Travis replied. “The chances of a Cessna catching fire on a routine flight are just too extraordinary. If it was due to mechanical failure, my money’s on someone’s deliberately making it so.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Annie said gloomily. “But I think we’ve gotten all we can out of the eastern Washington cop shop. You probably know that both the FAA and NTSB are looking into it now. Although the chance of either agency telling us what they’ve found from the debris is probably nil.”

  “Look at you, rattling off those acronyms. I’m impressed.”

  “Yes, and just ask me about the difference between VFR and IFR. My education has grown by leaps and bounds.”

  “I can tell. But, Annie, it’s not like you just to sit back and say you’ve obtained all the information that’s available. I know Dan’s fuming over his inability to contribute to the investigation, but he’s law enforcement and obliged to work within the confines of the territory allotted to him. You’re not. I’m surprised you’re not calling from the local airport right now, telling me the results of your interrogation of the maintenance crew.”

  Annie laughed, and her chest suddenly seemed to lose some of its heaviness. It had been the first time she’d laughed in days—she hadn’t since Sam’s impression of her student rider’s obnoxious mother.

  “You know me so well,” she admitted to her friend. “That’s exactly what I’d like to do right now. Someone’s got to know what happened after the Cessna took off. And actually, making a trip to eastern Washington is one of the reasons I called. I’m assuming that Tony filled you in on the horses he and I selected?”

  “He did, indeed. In fact, I believe he called me right after hanging up with you. He sounded quite excited about the prospect of acquiring them and, more to the point, delivering them from their alternative fate.”