First Night of Summer

by Landon Parham

  He watched Isaac casually glance around the room and turn back to hold the door open. To anyone who knew him, Isaac probably seemed like a kind friend and loving family man. Ricky, though, had seen a different side of the ex-airman, a dangerous, unflappable side with menace and determination in his black eyes. He truly hoped this was the closest he would ever have to get to Isaac again.

  Then Josie came inside. Ricky stopped chewing, his jaw freezing in place as the little ray of light filled his putrid mind with heat. Only his eyes moved as her reflection floated across the glass in front of him. She shone like a double exposure, only a half reflection, but enough to make Ricky’s mouth water. Fresh saliva pooled on his tongue with a craving more ominous than food could quench. He let the liquid slide around his mouth, moistening his cheeks and lips before swallowing it down. It took every ounce of willpower not to turn around, drink her in, fall on his knees, and caress her tender skin. An image of him grabbing her and running away flashed in his thoughts.

  Finally, Sarah came inside the restaurant and placed both her hands on Josie’s shoulders. Ricky felt a tinge of jealousy. She was allowed to touch Josie. He was not.

  Sarah pointed to a table in the middle of the room and nudged Josie forward. Two men were seated at one end of an eight-top and smiled as the Snows pulled up chairs alongside them.

  “What have you two scoundrels been up to?” Ricky heard Isaac ask.

  “Fishing and golf,” one of the retired men replied with mock sarcasm. He had the look of a sun worshiper, tanned skin, deeply grooved lines around his eyes, and a decently fit body for his age.

  A skittering sound echoed around the square dining room as Isaac slid his chair legs across the ancient linoleum floor.

  “Yeah?” Isaac studied the man for a moment. He wore a short-sleeved, plaid, button-down shirt, and, despite the warm weather, a sweater vest and khakis. A pair of golf shoes was still on his feet. “And how’d you shoot this morning?”

  Both old men chuckled. “Humph. Too high to brag about.” The first elbowed the second. “But we sure gave it hell, didn’t we, Ed?”

  This started another round of chuckling. The old friends were clearly enjoying the fruits of long years and hard work. The most stressful part of their day was fretting over a stroke or two on their golf score.

  Ricky steadied himself and remembered to look casual. He drank a swallow of iced tea and had another bite of burger. It all felt so trivial, but details made for good spy craft. He needed to appear as one with the setting, whatever it may be. He focused on slowing his heart. His blood pressure and temperature were certainly up, evidence of tiny sweat droplets showing on his upper lip and forehead. Caroline was gone. That couldn’t be changed. He knew her death was his responsibility. There was no one else to blame. He could still feel the glass crushing around them as their bodies flew out the window and into the rain-drenched lawn. Even though he didn’t know it at the time, he wasn’t surprised to learn that a piece of glass had sliced into her little body and drained her of life. His junior mistake, followed by a poor reaction, had killed her. Now Josie was all he had left. And if he messed this up, he would fail completely. The pressure weighed heavily on his mind.

  Ricky wondered if anyone might see through his disguise. He looked down at himself. A heavily worn pearl snap shirt, faded jeans, and work boots fit the setting perfectly. A baseball-style cap with an industrial equipment emblem sat on his head. He looked like any other guy who earned a paycheck with his hands. He even had a shallow story concocted, just in case he was forced to engage in brief conversation. A ski mask covered his face when last Isaac saw him. And anyone else in town—anyone who had seen him at the hotel where he stayed—had no reason to remember him. He remained a perfect stranger.

  Secure in his confidence of anonymity, he felt the unsuspected squeeze of a hand on his shoulder. Startled more from his previous train of thought, he jerked slightly before looking up into a pair of eyes intent on his attention.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did you say something?”

  The pregnant waitress held up a pitcher. “Would you like some more tea?” She nodded toward his glass across the table. It was just out of reach with her distended belly.

  He lifted the red, plastic cup for a refill. “Please.”

  As she shuffled away, he tuned his ears back to the table where Josie sat. They were in the middle of a conversation, and he could hear them clearly.

  “That’s right, Paul,” Isaac confirmed. “Just me and Josie.”

  “Sarah, you’re not going with them?”

  “Part of the way,” she said. “They’ll fly me to Albuquerque on Thursday and go on from there. I have a three-day cancer walk Friday through Sunday.”

  Ricky perked up his ears. His mind was bent on every morsel of information as Sarah continued. He knew there was no realistic way he would find to kidnap Josie around Ruidoso again. At least he didn’t think so. She was watched closer than ever, and he felt too vulnerable to work where his luck had turned sour. The place felt like bad voodoo. He wished he could catch Josie somewhere out of town, someplace where her parents’ guard was down.

  “I started doing them in college,” Sarah explained, “and decided to keep it up. I’ve done one every year since my mother passed away from breast cancer.”

  “This weekend?” Paul, the retiree, shook his head. “It’s gonna be a hot one. Isaac, you’re not doing it with her?”

  “Are you kidding me? Sixty miles in three days. I’m not so sure I’m tough enough. Besides, it gives Josie a chance to see her grandparents in Taos before school starts.”

  The same waitress who served Ricky arrived with their food. The two retired codgers were finished and stood to excuse themselves. The same one who had done all the talking, Paul, said, “Good luck, Sarah.” He put his hat on and gave a casual salute to Isaac. “Say hi to your folks for me.”

  Ricky’s mind ran with the potential. It was impossible to form a plan yet, but Josie was headed out of town, and he knew right where she would be. If they were flying to Taos, there was one obvious place to intercept them, Taos Regional Airport. Luckily, it was the only airfield in town and the only place for them to land. As sure as the sun rose in the East, he would be there waiting.

  He stood, put ten dollars on the table, and made for the door. Outside on the pine needle-covered parking lot, he opened the door to his newly acquired Chevrolet pickup truck. Bringing the van back to Ruidoso was entirely too risky. The truck fit the bill nicely, and he had to admit that it made a good change from the cumbersome van. He stayed with a white paint job to keep a low profile. Four doors with a backseat provided a good amount of extra room. Not like the van, but enough. He also bought it with four-wheel drive. It would more than pay for itself in the Rocky Mountain winters.

  In the bed of the pickup, he stored a shovel and a chainsaw with a few scraps of wood. And no working man’s vehicle was complete without a ball attached to the trailer hitch. With his newfound information and disguise in place, he had to lay down some miles. He didn’t know exactly how Josie would come to him, but she would. He wouldn’t stop until she did.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  August heat waves lifted off the candy apple red hood of Isaac’s classic pickup. He parked outside a row of rental hangars at the Sierra Blanca Regional Airport. Josie and Sarah waited in the cab to enjoy the air-conditioner while he prepped their airplane.

  Inside the sliding metal doors, he attached a tow bar to the front wheel and pulled. Sunshine glinted off the brilliant white paint as it nosed out of shadow and into light. A welcome breeze felt cool on Isaac’s glossy skin in contrast to the stagnant air inside the tin structure. When he cleared the doorway, Sarah pulled forward and stopped the truck where the plane had just sat. They would keep it there, locked away for the weekend.

  While Isaac went about the pre-flight checklist, Josie helped Sarah transfer the luggage from the bed of the pickup to the storage compartment of the Cessna 172.
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br />   A few minutes later, Isaac declared, “She’s good to go. Let’s load up.”

  Josie needed help climbing into the backseat, and Isaac lifted her in. He playfully popped her on the bottom as she ducked her head and went to sit. Flying was his favorite pastime in the world. Combine it with the company of his family, and life didn’t get any better. The wounds of an unfriendly summer still itched, and their party of three always felt incomplete. He had gone over it numerous times during the last few weeks. Time away, separation from all the little reminders that Caroline was gone, felt exactly like what they needed, a last-minute hoorah before Josie went back to school.

  Sarah took the copilot’s seat on the right, and Isaac crawled in on the left. She had stated concern at the onset of their relationship regarding small planes. Isaac assured her that her reservations were based on the same thing that holds most people back in life, fear of the unknown. And he was right. He took her up a few times, showed her the ropes, and explained how safe private aviation can be. Slowly, after a fair share of coaxing, she began to enjoy it and set aside her unfounded apprehension.

  Isaac called, “Clear prop,” and engaged the ignition.

  The propeller buzzed to life, a steady wash of air now flowing through the open cabin windows. He taxied out of the row of hangars and stopped before hitting the taxiway. A run-up on the gauges confirmed that everything was good to go.

  “Cessna zero-zero-niner, requesting permission for takeoff,” he called over the headset.

  “Roger that, zero-zero-niner,” a voice came back. “Proceed two-four. Hold short.”

  “Two-four, hold short,” he repeated.

  At the start of runway two-four, Isaac stopped short of the airstrip. In the distance, a glimmer of an aircraft came closer and closer. They waited until the Beechcraft Bonanza V-tail passed and finally settled to the asphalt. As it slowed and turned off the runway, the air traffic controller came back on.

  “Zero-zero-niner, clear for takeoff.”

  “Zero-zero-niner, clear for takeoff,” Isaac repeated.

  He turned onto the runway and throttled up. The air speed indicator passed ten knots, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, and finally sixty-four KIAS, or knots indicated air speed. Easing the yoke back, the Cessna rose at the nose, and the rear wheels quickly followed. They were off, reaching for the heavens, the skies belonging to the few.

  “Up, up, and away!” he proclaimed.

  Josie and Sarah were both glued to the windows. He adjusted their course to the north northwest and slowly gained altitude.

  When they arrived in Albuquerque, Sarah said her good-byes and got in a yellow taxicab. Isaac hated to see her go alone, but wouldn’t have it any different. The weekend was her way of remembering her mother.

  The second leg of the trip went by faster than the first. The scenery below began to make more drastic changes. Mountains grew larger, and the desert in the west drew nearer. Isaac knew every square inch of it. Out of habit, he broke the landscape into grids and searched them for signs of smoke. Even though he was off duty, it never hurt to go the extra mile in the hot, dry months like August.

  Down below, the ground looked like it could use a drink. Moisture from the early summer rains was gone. Here and there, small clouds of dirt drifted off rural roads leading across ranches and National Forestry lands. Powdery logging roads plunged into the alpine-covered slopes of hardened granite and winding streams.

  Josie noticed the change. “Are we there yet?”

  “Almost. Are you ready?”

  She leaned forward, riding in the front seat since leaving Sarah behind, and made a look of exasperation. “I’ve been ready since forever.”

  Isaac laughed at her small display of drama. Me, too, kiddo.

  Summer was at its end, and he couldn’t say he was sorry. But despite the change of seasons, desperation continued to stalk him, desperation like he had never known.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Ricky sat in the reclined front seat of his pickup and waited for Josie and Isaac to arrive. He had backed into a parking spot at the Taos Regional Airport with his windows rolled down. Warm, high desert air filtered through the cab while he dozed and listened for the buzz of an inbound aircraft. He had waited since early morning and didn’t know what time to expect them, but by the conversation he overheard a couple of days prior at Jack’s Café, today was the day. He ran his tongue between his top teeth and inside of his upper lip. Josie played in his head. A quiver crawled up his body with the incredibly detailed fantasy.

  The remote landing strip stretched across the sage-littered valley floor. On that late Thursday afternoon, the airport was virtually uninhabited. The only other forms of life were an older gentleman tinkering on a fuel truck in front of a closed hangar and a person inside an office attached to the same building. The tiny, uncontrolled field had no need for security measures as the only flights in and out had nothing to do with commercial air travel. This, like so much of rural New Mexico, Ricky liked very much.

  On the drive up from Ruidoso, he had nothing but his thoughts and an infinite expanse of scenery to keep him company. The landscape stretched out forever, an inland ocean of sand, rocks, grasses, and cedar trees. Combinations of browns and greens monopolized his eyes. The only splash of color came at a railroad crossing. A pair of candy cane gates dropped in front of him to make way for a passing train. A mile-long string of cars went by in smooth, thunkedy-thunk motion. Vivid splashes of graffiti adorned the sides. He couldn’t make out many of the signs or words, but all had taken talent to achieve desired looks. He knew the culprits, misguided teens or youngsters with a real gift for art.

  At the airfield, and for the first time in more than three hours, someone in a vehicle drove onto the grounds. He looked toward the entrance and watched a late-model, charcoal gray GMC pickup come his way. Instead of lying back in the seat or exposing his whole face to the newcomers, he lifted a newspaper and used it to block the lower portion of his face while peering over the top. But as the vehicle passed in front of him, the older couple inside didn’t look his way. They drove on until stopping in front of the administrative office.

  Ricky wondered if the new arrivals were Isaac’s parents. He had a pretty good idea they were. Neither of them got out of the truck after backing between two white stripes. They just sat there and looked out the windshield to the south, like they were there to meet someone.

  As he pondered the situation, his attention was drawn to an approaching drone. He set the newspaper aside and grabbed his high-dollar binoculars off the dash. It didn’t take but a second to find a glimmer in the distance, the setting sun reflecting off a shiny surface. He used his right pointer finger to adjust the focus dial in between the lenses and clear the visual until a crisp image of an airplane appeared. It circled to the north and lined up for a southwesterly landing, directly into the light breeze.

  His heart quickened. It’s them. It has to be. What were the odds of someone else flying into the tiny airport, in a single-engine aircraft, to be picked up by a retirement age couple? He intently held the binoculars to his eyes and watched the little Cessna come closer.

  Some jobs required more planning than others did. Kidnapping Josie was not going to be easy. And although Ricky wondered what type of scheme he would have to hash out to do it, he felt quite pleased with how the current events were unfolding. Just like in Ruidoso at the beginning of summer, when he had hidden in the woods and posed as a jogger, there was nothing suspicious about his current disguise. He was there to airplane watch.

  The plane glided lower until it touched down. A slight screech sounded as rubber tires met pavement and began to roll. He could discern a man in the captain’s seat and a shorter person, small enough to be a child, in the passenger seat. This has to be them.

  The pilot slowed to taxi speed and made his way to a tie-down area on the tarmac. Metal rings were bolted into the pavement with lengths of rope coiled neatly on the ground. The airplane came to rest i
n the middle of a three-ringed triangle and the propeller blades fell silent.

  Ricky had to control himself from bobbing up and down in his seat at the near unbearable anxiety of who could be inside. Really, he already knew, but he wanted to see her so badly and refused to let the binoculars leave his eyes.

  As if a dream come true, the passenger door opened, and out she came. In his mind, Josie shined brighter than the sunset painted across the wild background behind her. She was there, ripe and ready to be plucked by his hungry hand.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Young lady,” Isaac instructed over the mike, “do not open that door until the propeller stops spinning.”

  “I won’t,” Josie agreed without looking at him. She focused out her window, enthusiastically waving at her grandparents.

  Isaac used the foot pedals to maneuver the Cessna into a tie-down space. As he idled the throttle, Josie’s hand already rested on the door latch. When the engine turned completely off, she sprang from the cockpit and ran the ten yards to Tom and Helen. Tom bent down, gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, and left her with Helen.

  Isaac took a moment to stuff their headsets and flight plan into his bag. Removing the key from the ignition, he stepped out into the final minutes of daylight and found Tom waiting under the wing.

  “Y’all are early.” His father grinned.