by Liz Johnson
“That’s fine. I’ll be okay.” She reached for her crutches, but he cleared his throat.
“Why don’t we just stick together? You can lean on me, because those crutches aren’t going to be much use to you either. It’s too slippery out here.” He glanced toward the gray skies out of habit, wondering when the next storm would rip through the area.
She hesitated for a moment.
“What’s wrong?”
Heather twisted her neck and squinted up into Jeremy’s face. Did he seriously think she was going to let him carry her around the crash site?
Probably.
His eyes turned stubborn, like she knew her own were.
“Well, you can either let me help you, or you can stay in the car.” His hands rested loosely on his hips, the relaxed pose contradicting the note in his voice that said he wasn’t going to give way on this.
She sighed in resignation and reached her hand back toward him. He ducked under it, wrapping his arm around her waist and tucking her against his side. In an instant she stood balanced precariously on her good leg, leaning heavily into him. His breath tickled the back of her neck through her hair, and her stomach took a nosedive into her tennis shoes. He smelled fresh and clean, adding nothing to the forest air except the warmth of his body.
She wanted to sink back into that warmth. Wanted to forget why they were there, why they’d had to pair up. She just wanted to enjoy the way the butterflies in her stomach jumped to life when he held her close.
Glancing up into his face, she wondered from the tight pull of his lips and glint in his dark eyes if he felt the same things she did.
But she had to keep her mind on why they were stuck together.
Justice had to be served, and she hoped she’d get to be there when the man, who cut those wires, got what he deserved.
It wasn’t until Jeremy winked at her that she realized she’d been staring into his eyes for who knew how long.
“Come on,” he said, tugging his arm tighter around her waist.
She didn’t have much of a choice, so she hobbled along beside him, her hand resting on the muscles of his shoulder that bunched every time she took a step.
“Would it be easier if I carried you?”
“No.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” As they stepped into the clearing, he asked, “Do you remember anything from that day? I mean, except what Kit said?”
“Not really.” Why wouldn’t her brain let her remember anything useful? When she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the crash, all she could see was the pain in Kit’s face. And Kit breathing those last words. Follow the drugs.
“It was so loud. Not just the helicopter, but the sound of the trees crunching and metal being ripped away.” She pulled herself up on his arm as she hopped over a fallen branch, her eyes sweeping the ground where her foot landed for anything out of the ordinary.
Jeremy led them on a slow walk around the perimeter of the clearing, kicking at small piles of leaves. “The sheriff’s department didn’t find anything except those cut wires that pointed to foul play when they picked up the pieces of wreckage. But it’s rained a couple times since the crash.”
“So anything left from the crash will have been washed away. Except what’s been protected by the trees.”
He squeezed her waist. “You’re pretty good at this, you know?”
“That’s the second time you’ve complimented me on my investigating skills. Keep it up, and I’ll start to think you’re not working with me under duress.”
Silent humor jostled her hand on his shoulder, as something metallic glinted in the bit of sun revealed by a passing cloud. “What’s that?” She pointed, urging him on.
When they reached the glimmer of silver, Heather leaned on a tree, as he dropped to a knee, pushing mud and pinecones out of the way to reveal a soda can. Holding it up for her inspection, he asked, “Did you have anything to drink on the ride up to Mount St. Helens?”
“Kit and I shared a bottle of water. But that’s it.”
“What about the pilot?”
“I don’t think he had anything.”
He crushed the can with one hand and pocketed it before resuming their stroll beneath the trees. Twenty minutes later and just over halfway around the clearing, Heather saw something else, but it, too, was just a piece of litter.
And it wasn’t until they stopped the second time that she realized her hands were shaking. Her thigh burning from exerting it more than she’d done since the crash, she leaned heavily onto the tree. Her head began spinning, and she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to battle the black spots suddenly dancing there.
When Jeremy reached out for her, she put her hand into his, and stumbled against his chest.
“Whoa.” He ducked his head to look into her eyes, using his right thumb to dab a bead of sweat from her temple. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course. I’m fine.” She blinked three times and swallowed something that tasted suspiciously like defeat.
He shook his head. “I’m pushing you too hard. You’ve barely been out of bed four days, and I’m dragging you around all of northwest Oregon.”
“No! I’m fine.” She swiped at the line of sweat suddenly forming on her upper lip with the back of her hand. “We can keep going.”
“You’re a bad liar,” he mumbled, as he turned to fit her back into his side. “I’m taking you back to the car.”
She sucked in a quick breath, and exhaled. “I’m fine.” Chastising herself for the weakness in her voice, she tried again, this time looking right into his eyes. “I’m okay. I just need a little rest.”
He sighed. “I think I have some water in the car.” He nodded toward the least mossy boulder beneath a tree. “You take a seat, and I’ll go get it.”
She nodded, lowering herself onto the bleached rock, her braced leg stretched in front of her at an odd angle, hands propped next to her thighs to keep from leaning too far in any direction. Jeremy jogged straight to the car and disappeared into the passenger side, emerging several seconds later with a refillable water bottle.
The sweat that had appeared on her face was slowly disappearing, and her head began clearing.
“How’re you feeling?” he said, when he returned to her.
“Like an idiot.”
“Don’t. We just have to remember that you’re not quite back up to speed yet.” He held the blue bottle toward her.
She studied his face as she reached for the bottle, looking for signs he might change his mind about working with her on the case. Suddenly a muscle in his jaw jumped, and he yanked the water back, grabbing her wrist with the opposite hand and turning her palm faceup. “What is that?”
Heather jerked her hand back, analyzing the white film covering most of her palm. “I don’t know what it is,” she said, gingerly touching it with the finger of her other hand. The residue clung to her finger, leaving a small circle of flesh surrounded by powder on her open palm.
Jeremy tucked the water bottle under his arm and reached for her hand again, turning it in the muted sunlight. His lips pursed as he leaned toward it, inhaling deeply.
A fine mist rose from her hand, and he jumped back before it could touch his nose.
She surveyed her other hand, which was completely free of the white powder. A large stain covered only the right side of the boulder, barely visible against the washed-out color of the rock. She leaned away from it to see if she’d sat in it. The residue stopped a fraction of an inch from where her thigh had been.
With a sure grip on her arm, Jeremy pulled her to her feet and into his side, wrapping an arm around her waist to stabilize her.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he finally asked. Her heart thudded painfully, the beating echoing in her ears.
“Cocaine?”
EIGHT
“Yes. You have much experience with the stuff?”
She shook her head. “I helped out on a drug case last year, b
ut it was more money laundering than drugs.”
“Do you have your footing?”
Her mind couldn’t follow his train of thought as it changed tracks, and all she could offer in response was, “Huh?”
Loosening his grip around her middle, he stepped closer to the rock, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “You’re not going to fall over if I let go?”
“No.”
“Good,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little yellow evidence envelope. Bending the edge of the envelope, he scraped a bit of the cocaine onto the lip, then closed and sealed it. “Let’s get this back to the lab.” He waved the packet toward the car.
Heather dug into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out her cell phone. “First, we take a few pictures.” Snapping a few close-ups of the white stain on the boulder and shots of the larger scene, she took an innocent step backward. Her leg crumbled like a sand castle under the force of a wave, pain shooting to her knee.
In a split second she knew she’d be on the ground, but there was nothing to do. Until a strong arm wrapped around the middle of her back and another looped under her thighs, lifting her high against a broad chest. Out of instinct she grabbed his shoulders, her face inches from his. His breath stirred her hair, and the tightness around his lips confessed that he was fighting a smile.
“Let’s get you back home.”
The hammering of her heart nearly drowned out his words, but she shook her head out of habit. Whatever he wanted, she was nearly certain she wanted the opposite.
He started walking through the middle of the clearing, still carrying her.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
“Like you did a minute ago? No, thanks. Picking you up once today is enough.”
She huffed and would have crossed her arms, except for the disobedient limb slung around his neck that just wouldn’t let go.
Jeremy had a sneaking suspicion that the pink in Heather’s cheeks wasn’t just from overexertion, but he forced his gaze away from the neat line of freckles parading over the bridge of her nose. Surveying the ground and rocks in the nearby area for any other sign of drugs, he pushed away the desire to focus on Heather’s arm around his neck, which flexed every time he stepped over a fallen branch or rock.
“Are you worried I’m going to drop you?”
She shook her head. “No. Why?”
“You’re hanging on awfully tight.”
“I am?” She squinted up toward him, eyes bashful but still not loosening her clasp.
The sudden urge to hold her tighter and a lot longer than necessary kicked him in the pit of his stomach, but he kept his grip steady. After all, the last woman he’d held tightly, he’d put on a plane that he’d watched crash. A fleeting desire to be close to this woman wasn’t worth the heartache that would inevitably come if he failed to protect her.
As he stopped at the rear door of his car, he bent his knees and gently dropped Heather’s feet to the ground. Dry pine needles crunched under foot, and her hands flew to grasp the roof of the car for stability.
Apparently she didn’t want to hold on to him any longer than she had to.
He barely touched her as she slipped back into her seat, pulling the door closed behind her.
Just focus on the drugs, Latham. Get the case solved, and then this girl will be safe and out of your life. Things will go back to the way they were. That’s what you want, right?
Of course. What else would he want?
Behind the wheel and back on the bumpy dirt road, Jeremy glanced over his shoulder. Heather seemed to be staring straight through the trees, little lines puckering the corners of her eyes.
“What are you thinking about?”
Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. “Kit was right about the drugs.”
“I know.”
“She must have been terrified.” Another glance revealed that her gaze hadn’t turned toward him. “What did she know about these drugs that kept her from telling me until the very last moment?”
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you think she knew they were on board the helicopter?”
“I can’t believe she would have. She was a deputy D.A. There’s no way she would have gone on that trip knowing what it was carrying. I sure wouldn’t have.”
“Then who did?”
Heather shook her head, her chin falling toward her chest and eyes closing. “The pilot?”
“Maybe. But if whoever knew about the drugs also cut those wires, the pilot isn’t a good suspect.” He cleared his throat as he pulled back onto the paved highway. “Unless it was some kind of suicide mission.”
Heather looked up toward the roof, her nose wrinkling. “No way. He was scared.” In the rearview mirror her hands came together in front of her, as though wrapping around the helicopter’s controller. “He was genuinely afraid, yanking on the joystick and yelling at us to make sure we were buckled in. If it was a kamikaze mission, I think he would have just taken us down. He fought to keep us airborne.”
“Good point. Okay, so if the pilot knew about the drugs, he certainly didn’t know about the plan to bring the chopper down.” As Jeremy slowed for a chipmunk to scurry across the road, he asked, “Who does that leave?”
“PNW Sightseeing?”
“The company that owns the aircraft?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Jeremy shook his head. “I think the better question is, why? Why would a smallish air tour company destroy one of its helicopters and kill a pilot and passenger?”
The corners of Heather’s lips turned down, and she turned to look out the window again. “I don’t know.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. He could read the discouragement on her face as clearly as he did the morning paper.
“Maybe we don’t have to answer the ‘why’ question right now.” She perked up a bit, nodding slowly, as though thinking exactly the same thought.
“Maybe the real question we have to answer right now is simpler. Who had access to the helicopter?”
He caught her eye and gave her a grin. “I was thinking the same thing.” Her smile matched his, as she leaned her head against the back of the seat. Sometimes having answers at that exact moment wasn’t as important as knowing they were headed in the right direction.
“Let’s drop this sample off at the lab along with your pictures,” he said.
“And then let’s pay a visit to our friends at PNW.”
Heather had decided to wait in the car while Jeremy took the sample and her phone into the crime lab so the techs could download her pictures. They agreed that it would make their trip twice as long and only delay getting to PNW if she accompanied him inside.
She hadn’t admitted to him that exhaustion played a role in her easy agreement to stay behind as well, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he knew that, too.
A shallow breeze came through the partially opened window, and she leaned against the seat, closing her eyes for just a moment. Sleep tugged at her mind, and she wanted to succumb, if just for a short nap. But something pinched the back of her brain, refusing to turn her thoughts off. Whatever it was, it kept bouncing around, telling her that she’d left something undone.
Had she left the stove on? Or forgot to unplug her hair dryer?
Doubtful.
So what made her stomach clench in uncertainty?
Jeremy yanked open the door, plopping down behind the wheel and tossing her phone to her. “I’ve been thinking,” he said without even putting the key in the ignition.
“Me, too.”
“What are you thinking?” he asked, turning to look her directly in the eye. His tone was serious, any indication of his usual humor gone.
“I’m not sure. It just feels like we’re not asking all of the right questions.” She pinched the arch of her nose in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building there. “Like why were there even drugs on the helicopter?”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” He rested his arm on the back of
the front seat, the sleeve of his T-shirt snug against his biceps. She kicked herself for letting her mind focus on that fact, if even for a moment. It wasn’t helping the case. “If the person who sabotaged the helicopter was behind the drugs and knew they were there, why would he destroy them in the crash?”
“This doesn’t make any sense!” Heather barely kept from kicking the seat in front of her in frustration. “Kit knew there were drugs involved. But she couldn’t have known they were on the helicopter.”
“Wait. Let’s back up for a second. Why would someone have cocaine on a chopper?”
“They’re either hiding it or transporting it.”
He nodded. “Right. Did you make any stops on the trip?”
Heather’s stomach sank. “Just that one fuel stop on the other side of the Washington state line, on the way back. We weren’t supposed to have one, but the pilot said our flight had taken longer than expected.” She sucked on one of her fingernails, chewing but not biting it off. “Do you think he picked up a package?”
“Did you see anything?”
“Kit and I both went inside to use the restroom. I didn’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean nothing happened.”
Jeremy nodded slowly. “I can’t see why you would have had to stop. The tank on the recovered aircraft had only a few gallons of fuel. It would have just made it back to the hangar. If the pilot was so concerned about making it back safely, he would have given himself a little bit of leeway. It just doesn’t make sense that he would have stopped for barely enough to get you back.”
“I guess we’d better talk to his coworkers and see what’s going on at PNW.”
He turned around, a focused look still on his face, and started the car. The pair remained silent for the entire twenty-minute drive to the PNW sightseeing offices.