Flight Risk

by Cara C. Putman

  “It’s not a lie. He will. One of these days.” Stasi punctuated the last words with her finger.

  A nurse approached them. “Are you Dustin Tate’s family?”

  “Yes.” Stasi stepped forward with a little shuddering breath. “Can we see him?”

  The nurse glanced at the tablet she carried. “I have to warn you he may not be himself. He claims he’s not married.”

  Stasi’s hand flew to her mouth and the other reached for Savannah as if she needed the physical support. “Is he badly injured? He must be if he doesn’t remember me.”

  “I can’t tell you much more than we’re keeping him for observation. The doctor wants to be cautious.”

  Stasi looked uncertain as she let go of Savannah and wrapped her arms tight around her coat. “Should we go in?”

  “For a few minutes. If he gets tired, you’ll need to leave sooner.”

  The nurse turned and started toward the locked double doors, but Stasi stayed frozen in place.

  Savannah squeezed her arm. “Want me to go in for you?”

  “Yes. No.” Stasi lifted her chin. “I’m his wife.” She latched on to Savannah as if clutching a lifeline, and they followed the nurse to the door. The woman keyed them through.

  Stasi hesitated again. “I’ll wait here.” The nurse frowned, but Stasi wore a pleading look. “Please let my sister confirm he’s okay first. I’m terribly squeamish. Our daughter goes to him when she’s hurt.” She gave a small shrug as if her words explained everything.

  The nurse considered her a moment, then her expression softened. “All right.” Then she turned to Savannah. “You can only stay a few minutes since you aren’t family.”

  “But I am.” Now she understood how Stasi could pretend to be his wife for the day. Too bad Savannah had actually filled that role. The nurse stared, so she continued. “We were married years ago, and I will always be his daughter’s aunt.”

  “Sounds like a messed-up situation.”

  Savannah gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “That’s an understatement.” The scab was off, but the scar would always be part of her.

  The nurse led her farther down a hallway with rooms off each side, most with closed doors. Christmas hadn’t entered this wing, probably because of the germs that could get captured in decorations. The woman stopped at a door across from the nurses’ station. “Mr. Tate was very lucky. He could go home as early as tomorrow.”

  “Will he require assistance when he’s released? He lives alone.” At least he did the last time Addy mentioned spending time at his apartment. The woman considered her, and Savannah caught her mistake. “I meant if he’ll need help during the day when Stasi works and their daughter’s in school.” If Stasi even pretended to have a job.

  “We’ll see what the doctor says when he’s released. Situations like his are usually fluid.” The woman nodded toward the station. “I’ll be there if you need anything. Please limit your time to ten minutes.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” She wouldn’t spend that much time with him other than to give Addy peace of mind.

  She peeked into the room without entering.

  Dustin lay against the raised bed and pillows, his dark hair flopping starkly against the white pillowcase. He looked weak in the blue and white haze of light that flickered from the TV mounted on the wall. She glanced at it and noted the football game.

  “I see you still like sports.”

  He rolled his head in her direction. “Ah, Savvy.”

  “You don’t get to call me that.”

  “Addy does.”

  “Yes. You don’t.” Savannah tried to calm her tone. “I see you survived.”

  “Hope you aren’t disappointed.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish an accident like that on anyone.”

  “It was . . . rough . . . ” An IV had been shoved into one hand. He dragged the other down his stubbled jaw. “It was a blur.”

  “What happened?”

  “Did you know the Fourteenth Street Bridge is only fourteen hundred meters from the end of the runway? With the snow at takeoff, I wondered about deicing. But it’s a blur. Crazy kaleidoscope of moments.” He rolled his head gingerly, and she noticed a bruise forming along the right side of his face. “Why are you here?”

  She gestured toward the door. “Your call terrified Addy, and someone had to let her know you’re okay.” She studied him, and he met her gaze a moment before shifting away with a grimace. “Stasi’s here.”

  “Ah no.” Age lined his face.

  “Yep.” She searched for something in his expression, though she wasn’t sure what.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re x-raying my soul.”

  “Do you still have one?” The words burst from her, and she didn’t care.

  “Don’t tell me you believe the article.”

  She simply stared at him.

  “Come on, Savvy, you know me better than that.”

  “The man I knew said he loved me. Promised to never leave me. Then he went after my sister.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice as she bowed her head to get closer to him. “Don’t tell me what I can’t believe. I used to believe the best about you.” She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not without proof he was worth the risk.

  “I didn’t do anything that reporter said.” His eyes flashed with a life that hadn’t been there a minute before. “I don’t know where he got his information but it’s wrong. Dead wrong.”

  “Then fight back.” The words burst from her.

  “I can’t. There’s more happening.”

  “More than working for athletes too rich to be told no? Do I even want to know how much of that article is true?” She stood and stepped back. “You disgust me.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, and if I explained, lives could be in jeopardy.” His hand grabbed her arm with startling force.

  “Let go of me.” She pushed the words through gritted teeth, but he ignored them.

  “You have no idea.” His hold eased enough she tugged free. “Savvy, we’re doing something good. But it has to be kept under wraps or people could be hurt.”

  “If that were true, you’d still say something. Where’s the man who fought for justice?” She bit off the words, her sophisticated edge long gone.

  “Still here.” He sounded like he’d given up. “You can’t believe everything you read in the paper.”

  “I don’t need the paper to tell me what I already know.”

  “Get off your high horse long enough to think, Savannah.” His pulse-rate monitor took off at a gallop.

  “You forget.” She paused. “I know you.”

  “Well, if you believe that bunch of lies, you knew some fake person.”

  “Now, those are true words.”

  He lay back, pale, spent. “You have to believe me. Each trip is honorable. When I get out of here I can show you. I have proof stashed away.”

  “Show it to the reporter or tell me what it is now.”

  “I have to talk to Donnelly first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s got more at stake than I do. No one cares about me. He’s got a career in the limelight. Without his money, we can’t do this.”

  Savannah bit her tongue. She needed to think about what Dustin had said. He spoke with a quiet fervor that defused some of her anger even though she still didn’t understand what he meant.

  A man wearing an FBI jacket stuck his head in the room. “Logan Donnelly?”

  Savannah frowned at him. “No, this isn’t his room.”

  The man’s face firmed into a mask. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No.”

  Dustin held up his hand. “Can you let me know when you find him?”

  The man nodded, then moved out of the doorway.

  “What’s this proof, Dustin?” It was too easy to believe he was just sandbagging her.

  �
�When I’m back home you’ll see. I’ll show you. I’m completely innocent.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” As a nurse rushed in, Savannah stepped back. “I’ll tell Addy you’ll survive and she can see you when you’re home.”

  “Give me time to get the proof.” His words faded. “I have to talk to Logan first.”

  Stasi stepped into the room and pressed her body against the wall. “What happened?”

  What little color remained in his face leached away. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m your wife.” Her words held a little energy, then she sagged.

  “I don’t have a wife.” His gaze drifted to Savannah. “Anymore.”

  Savannah felt like she was trapped in the Twilight Zone or her worst dream. How could she escape?

  Stasi ignored the attention Dustin gave Savannah. “You’re alive.”

  “Yes. Addy’s check might be a little bit late this month.”

  The nurse turned from the monitor, where she was clicking away on a keyboard. “Is she bothering you, Dustin? Sounds like she’s claiming to be someone she isn’t.”

  “It’s all right.” The words were weak, almost listless. “It’s a mess I created.”

  Stasi eased closer. “I can take care of you.”

  Dustin’s laugh was bitter. “You don’t like blood or other bodily fluids.”

  “Well, no, but they aren’t anyone’s favorites.”

  “Not happening.” Dustin’s words were harsh, and Stasi turned and fled from the small room.

  Savannah couldn’t stand to listen to them anymore, but what if Dustin had proof? She wanted to flee but was rooted in place.

  Chapter Twelve

  The lights were dim, the machines quietly whirring and dinging in the background as Jett stood in the hallway. Dustin Tate lay against the stark white hospital sheets, eyes closed and face pale where it wasn’t bruised. Savannah Daniels stood in a corner, looking ready to bolt, yet frozen.

  Jett wouldn’t march into the room without knowing what he was walking into.

  Dustin opened his eyes and studied Savannah, somehow missing Jett standing just outside. “I was awful to you.”

  “What?” Savannah took a step back as if unprepared to hear him.

  “After 9/11. I needed you and you were busy with everything else.”

  “Law school claimed too much of my life.” She eased onto the edge of a chair beside his bed. “I guess it was how I coped.”

  “Still, you didn’t deserve me turning to Stasi. I should have fought harder for us.” He reached for her hand and she took it. “I’m sorry.”

  Her face blanched and she tugged her hand loose. “It’s too late.”

  “Never.” He shook his head. “I won’t believe it’s too late to make us right.”

  There was a longing on her face, like she wanted to believe him, but then she stood and spun through the door, bumping off Jett without seeming to register who he was.

  But Dustin did. His brow furrowed and he sighed. “You.”

  The man looked tired and battered, with harsh bruises appearing on his face and arms.

  “What . . .” He swallowed hard, then tried again. “What are you doing here?”

  “Color me curious.” Jett tilted his chin as he took the seat next to the bed. “Heard you survived today’s flight. That must have been something.”

  The man stared at him. Then his vision seemed to cloud as if he was seeing the short flight in his mind. “Couldn’t have been in the air a minute.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “What?”

  “You’re a Western World pilot. Surely you have an idea.”

  “No way I’m talking about that with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t trust you.” Dustin’s expression took on an exhausted intensity.

  Jett glanced away from the glare and noted the TV was on an ad about some kind of medication only old people needed. He eased his hands into his pockets and forced his attention back to the bed. “How did you get out?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Jett leaned closer to hear. “What?”

  “It doesn’t matter. A lot of people died today. The fact I somehow survived doesn’t make me news.” He swallowed hard as if fighting emotion. “I knew the captain. She was skilled and had a clean record. Her kids are in elementary school.”

  Jett rubbed his neck as he wrestled back his own thoughts of how many families had been changed forever by the accident. “Where were you headed today?”

  “A meeting.” The words were clipped and short.

  “With Logan?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you didn’t fly?”

  “No.” He snorted. “Even pilots get the day off.”

  “Tell me about the crash.”

  Color flared into Dustin’s face and his fingers stretched for the call button. “Nothing doing.”

  Jett was running out of time before he had a nurse racing into the room. “What do you want to know? You’ve been stuck here since you were found at the crash. There has to be something you’d like to be updated about.”

  Dustin rolled his eyes, then seemed to stare into the distance. Jett was about to give up when he spoke. “Did Logan make it?”

  Jett leaned back. “You haven’t heard?”

  “No. The chaos was . . . intense. The water started rushing in from every direction. It was . . . chaos.”

  Jett pulled out his phone and pulled up the manifest Chase had given him.

  Jett sighed as he slowly scanned the list of names on his small screen. So many souls on that plane. He glanced up to find Dustin’s gaze riveted on him. “We don’t have a list of fatalities. Was the flight full?”

  “Probably two-thirds.”

  “That’s good. It could have been worse.”

  “Not for the folks who got bumped up from standby.” Dustin cleared his throat. “We’re all one choice from a life change.”

  Jett let that bounce around his mind, locking it into his memory. “Can I quote you?”

  “Like you need permission.”

  Jett stiffened. “What does that mean?”

  “Do you understand the harm your lies have caused? Unfortunately, people still believe what they read in newspapers. You’d think fake news would cure everyone of believing anything. I won’t believe anymore.” He grabbed the call button and pushed it. “If the airline fires me over your article, I’ll be suing you and that newspaper.”

  Jett pushed to his feet but couldn’t leave. Not without asking one more question. “What’s the fourth man’s name?”

  “What?”

  “The fourth man who joins your Thailand trips?”

  There was a flash of something like incredulity on Dustin’s face, but Jett couldn’t identify it before it was gone. “I’m done talking.” He reached for the jug of water on his bedside table. Took a sip while Jett waited . . . for something, hoping the silence would encourage Dustin to keep talking. Dustin finally said, “Have you ever walked up to someone’s door with news you know will destroy their lives?”

  Jett’s brow wrinkled as he tried to connect the words to what they’d been discussing.

  “You knock on it while you pray to God no one answers, but He’s not merciful enough to have them be away. Instead, you’re the one who has to break the news their loved one is gone. It’s the kind of thing you never want to do, but you don’t always have a choice.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jett wanted to pretend the strong hospital smell was getting to him, but that was a lie. Instead it was the image of coming home and finding his father in the garage. The man hadn’t wanted to leave a mess for his wife, but he hadn’t minded killing himself in a place his twelve-year-old son would find his body when he got home from school.

  Jett tried to shake off the memory that still haunted his nightmares. He’d learned some memories never disappeared. They could destroy waking moments as often as sleep.

  “Do y
ou understand the way my daughter looked at me when I dropped by last night? She believes you over what she knows about me.”

  “Every word is true.”

  “No. Remember, it’s my life you’re destroying.” Dustin flung the jug at Jett. The lid popped off, dousing Jett with water.

  He sputtered and wiped the water from his face. He stepped toward the room’s sink and grabbed paper towels. His gaze landed on a purse, one he’d seen hanging on the back of Savannah Daniel’s office door. She must have left it.

  “Savannah left her purse.”

  Dustin growled. “How do you know it’s hers? Have you been spying on her too?”

  “Not spying.” Just being observant. Noticing the details. “I’d better get it to her.”

  Dustin rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

  “Why didn’t you two last?” Jett stopped himself before he could say anything else ridiculous. “Never mind.”

  “She was a bulldog. Didn’t have the ability to step away from a challenge. I was tired of competing with that.” He sighed and then his eyes slid shut. “It was exhausting.”

  There was a sound outside the room, and Jett turned in time to see a swirl of color as a woman headed down the hall.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dustin’s words, so different from the ones he’d said to Savannah, knifed through her. Was he trying to spin things for the reporter? Make it look like everything had been her fault, leaving Dustin as the victim? The thought hurt, and she should be glad she was free.

  Yet the words pierced.

  All she’d wanted was to slide in and sneak her purse out without another interaction. She needed space and rest, but now she’d have to engage with Jett Glover again. She didn’t have the reserves.

  She did not want to spar with anyone. She just wanted to get home to her cat, Rhett, and put the day behind her.

  Out of sight of Dustin’s room, she slumped against the wall. What now?

  Jett stepped out of Dustin’s room. His charming smile would dazzle someone who wasn’t as worn as she was. Would anything remove his smiling veneer before she decided he was as perfect as the image he portrayed?

  * * *

  A war of emotions flashed across Savannah Daniels’s face as she spotted him.