Flight Risk

by Cara C. Putman

  Savannah edged closer and then froze when she recognized Agent Martin. The man’s back was to her, but he had Jett on his feet, hands up. She stepped back around the corner of the house and placed a 911 call, then hesitated. She should go back to her car and wait. That was the safe thing to do. But she couldn’t. Not while Jett was in there. Somehow she had to help Jett.

  But what could she do that would help Jett without becoming Agent Martin’s second target?

  She edged around the house, using it to shield her while a plan came to her.

  She hurried to the front door of the house and went inside. Then she dialed the number on the card Martin had given her Friday and asked to be patched through to the agent.

  The woman who answered hesitated. “He’s in the field right now.”

  “This is really important and related to his case. He asked me to reach him this way if he didn’t answer his direct number.” She bit her lower lip as she waited for the woman’s response.

  “Can you tell me the nature of your emergency?”

  “Just that it relates to him and it’s life and death.” As she looked through the sliding glass doors toward the shed, she wanted to scream. This wasn’t working.

  “Ma’am, you need to explain yourself.”

  “There isn’t time.”

  The woman hesitated. “All right. I’ll patch you through.”

  This was taking too long!

  Didn’t the woman understand a man’s life was at risk? While Savannah waited, she scrambled for another option. There had to be something she could do.

  The sliding glass door. If she opened the curtains and turned on all the lights, would that be enough to distract Agent Martin and give Jett a chance?

  She had to try.

  * * *

  Jett thought he should feel angry or terrified. Instead he felt a weight of sadness.

  “I am sorry.”

  Agent Martin startled. “Sorry?”

  “I unintentionally added to your pain with my investigation and article.” His hands felt heavy from being up in the air so long. “If I could unpublish it, I would. But that won’t bring back Dustin, Ethan, or your daughter.” He inhaled. “I was wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” Confusion flickered across his face, and the gun wavered. It must be getting heavy.

  He couldn’t believe he was saying this, but it was right. “The truth is those men were on a mission to save trafficked girls. They created a false trail that I followed, that made it look like they were solicitors. Instead, they were the bait in traps.” He swallowed and shifted his feet slightly. “They were heroes. If I could change the article, I would. But I can alter what people know moving forward.”

  A movement caught his attention.

  * * *

  Savannah’s mind raced. She crept toward the light switch and first flicked off the lights. Then she moved to the curtains and eased the first panel to the side. This wouldn’t work if Agent Martin saw the movement before she was ready. She paused between the first and second curtains. Glanced outside. His attention hadn’t shifted from Jett, but she saw Jett glance her direction.

  No, no, no.

  Don’t lead him to look this way.

  Jett shifted his stance. She squinted. Was he shifting his weight forward? She couldn’t wait.

  She eased the final panel to the side. Then she scuttled to the light switches and flipped all the switches. She jumped at a whirring, grinding noise. Then she put her hand over her heart. She’d turned on the garbage disposal along with the lights. She flipped it off, then glanced outside.

  Agent Martin hadn’t moved.

  What else could she do to distract him?

  She started flipping the switches in a Morse code pattern. He had to see that.

  * * *

  “I had it all wrong.” Jett kept his face toward Agent Martin as he tried to catch what Savannah was up to out of the corner of his eye. Why was the crazy woman here? Had she called the police? If so, he’d keep talking as long as it took for help to arrive. “My research was good, but it only caught the side of the trips they wanted the world to see.”

  The agent looked at him blankly. It was as if part of him had slipped away and all that was left was a vindictive shell that didn’t really understand what he was doing.

  “Logan and Dustin weren’t there to abuse the girls.” He shook his head and laughed. Now who sounded deranged? “They were there to save them.”

  “You have no proof. And the article was clear.”

  “Yes, the article was clear because that’s what the men wanted everyone to think. To do their work, to bring girls from darkness to light, they had to find them. That meant looking like rich Americans who wanted a good time with the girls.” He’d piece it together in a way the agent could hear. It wouldn’t change the fact he’d executed judgment on Dustin and Evan, but it might stop what he planned now. “Why kill Dustin? You could have joined me in bringing him to justice.”

  “People don’t understand the great harm this evil does. My daughter isn’t the only one who’s disappeared or been harmed by the monsters who only care about their debased needs.” Agent Martin’s arm wavered and then he firmed his grip on the gun. “You haven’t seen the things I have. Our country is filled with men intent on evil. That’s why you have to give me the fourth man’s name. Then I can exact justice on him, and rest. For a while.”

  His words made Jett wonder how long Agent Martin would rest before he found someone else to exact justice on. “I can’t give you that.”

  “Wrong answer.” His finger twitched on the trigger. “You have one more chance. What. Is. His. Name?”

  A voice startled them both as Savannah stepped into view. “Don’t.” She took a shuddering breath as if realizing she’d just placed herself squarely in harm’s way. “The world is filled with people trying to do good. Imperfectly, but they’re trying. That’s what Jett does. It’s what you did before.”

  “Savannah.” Jett groaned at the way Agent Martin seemed to snap out of his reverie and look at her like fresh prey.

  “Ms. Daniels, you are a fool to come out here.”

  “No, I’m trying to keep you from compounding a wrong. Did you know your son is the reason the software was on Flight 2840? You were talking to the wrong partner Friday.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Savannah shook her head. “No, you are. We all have been. But it’s time to push through to truth. You need to talk with our new friend. She’ll help you understand the good that’s being done.”

  Jett needed to get the focus back on him. He made a small waving motion toward Savannah and mouthed get back. “You’ve robbed Dustin of that opportunity to continue his good works. But you get to choose what you’re going to do here. Will you continue or allow us to leave?”

  The man snarled at him. “You two haven’t proven anything other than you are a well-trained, fast-talking reporter with a sidekick attorney.”

  Savannah firmed her stance instead of leaving. “How did you do it?”

  Agent Martin quirked an eyebrow and tipped his head to the side. “Do what?”

  “Kill Dustin. Addy was in the next room.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to be. I never wanted her near.” Then his expression cleared. “It was easy to slip into his room and trade out his medicine with a sedative. Just enough to make him compliant. Then I slipped back inside and talked him into slitting his wrists. May have helped him a bit.” He shrugged. “I left the letter, but no one found it.”

  “I did.”

  “You’ve read it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you understand. I had to help him.”

  * * *

  Savannah was rethinking her decision to come outside. It had seemed brave and smart while she was inside. Now she didn’t want to be killed when he decided to pull the trigger.

  “Police!” The yell was followed an instant later by some kind of explosion. Then what felt like a flood of police appear
ed.

  The next instant she was led to the side by two officers. She looked over her shoulder to see another placing cuffs on Agent Martin even as he yelled he was with the FBI. Jett was taken in a different direction.

  She couldn’t stop shivering. It felt like the cold had crept deep into her bones and she’d never be warm again. She answered questions again and again, until it felt like she was in a crazy time loop.

  Finally, the police were done questioning her.

  She scanned the throng of police and emergency crews, but felt herself relax when she spotted Jett in the middle of it looking for her.

  A minute later he ran to her and pulled her into a hug. And finally Savannah felt safe.

  Chapter Forty-One

  tuesday, december 22

  Jett had stayed up all night writing a new article.

  It was a hard one. One where he had to admit he hadn’t gotten the whole truth in the first. Savannah had given him Hope’s number, and he’d interviewed her. Then he and Chase had spent the night making calls to confirm the new information. The middle of the night in DC had meant morning in Bangkok, expediting matters.

  Then first thing that morning he’d placed a follow-up call to Albert Donnelly, Logan’s dad.

  He’d been asking the wrong question all along.

  Instead of asking what Donnelly had done in Bangkok, he should have asked why. Why would the upstanding ballplayer change so drastically in that place alone?

  Albert had the answer.

  One of Logan’s high school friends had been trafficked. Unlike Agent Martin, though, he’d turned that pain into a fight to make right. He’d seen an article about another professional player working with local police in a country to help locate trafficked girls. He’d taken that on as his off-season mission and brought Dustin into it, since he could fly them there. Evan had helped provide muscle, and Hope had provided the security the rescued women needed to go with them.

  They’d helped the local police in Thailand break up several small cells. Ironically, they’d been successful enough they were known on the streets, so they’d been talking about assisting a different country.

  Now it was time to face the music with his boss.

  “Glover.”

  At Ted’s booming call, Jett hurried to the editor-in-chief’s office.

  “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

  “What’s this about your article being bunk?” Ted wanted quick answers. One didn’t keep the man waiting when he used that kind of clipped speech, not if one wanted to stay employed.

  Jett opened his tablet and hit send on the draft email that contained the retraction.

  “Have a seat.” Ted took the chair at the head of the small table.

  Jett sat on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs that always made him think he was being sent to the principal’s office. The chair forced him into a posture that felt unnatural and stiff. He leaned forward and met Ted’s glance. “I made a mistake with the Logan Donnelly story, Ted. I just sent you a follow-up article.”

  “Give me the highlights.”

  Jett gathered his thoughts, then walked Ted through them. “So while the men acted like they were there for the parties, those were a tool to aid local police with rescuing young men and women.”

  “So you really needed the extra time you asked me for?”

  Jett had spent time thinking about that in the dark hours of the night while he was waiting for calls to be returned. “No, sir. While I’d like to think that would have made a difference, the reality is that everything I had uncovered to date pointed to what I wrote. I was right . . . but lacked the rest of the story.” He ran his fingers through his hair, then met the editor’s gaze. “At the hospital Dustin Tate said he had evidence, but he couldn’t give it to us before he talked to Logan, who was already dead. A few days later, Dustin was murdered.”

  “Is that what police think?”

  “Yes, his ex found a letter that was tied to Agent Martin. The man was on a mission to avenge the loss of his daughter.” He fought a yawn as the weariness pressed against him. “Chase helped me do the research that’s in the article you have in your in-box. The kid did a great job and is ready for the next level.”

  “That level is currently full.”

  “Not after this morning. You’ll also find my letter of resignation attached to the email. I’ve let you and the paper down.”

  Ted leaned forward on his desk. “Glover, you’ve made the truth this massive taskmaster. As journalists our goal is always to report the truth, but never forget we live in a complicated world with shifting standards. This story had multiple lenses. You found what they wanted you to find.” He cocked his head with a shrug. “Way I remember it, I’m the one who gave the ultimatum to print or cut bait.”

  “I should have done better.”

  “Maybe, but anyone who’s lived has those moments. I’ll read the article. If it’s as good and well researched as I expect, that will be the end of this.” He paused. “On second thought, I want an editorial that addresses this tension with truth. It’s important for our readers to understand how highly we value it and how elusive it can be. If after that you still want to resign, we’ll talk. Now get out of here and let me read this work of art.”

  Jett sat for a minute, stunned by his pronouncement. “You aren’t accepting my resignation?”

  “Not unless you insist, but I’d like you to take at least a week and think about whether that’s really what you want.”

  Jett nodded and stood. “Let me know about the article.”

  “I will. Now get to writing that editorial.”

  Jett left the office, stopped by his desk to get his briefcase and keys, and then kept walking. Out the door. To the garage. And to his car.

  He didn’t know where he was going until he arrived.

  Savannah’s.

  And then he sat. He wanted to thank her for calling the cops last night and see how she was doing, but he was frozen in the car. This was stupid. He needed to get out of the car, climb the steps, and knock on that door. What was the worst that could happen? She’d slam the door in his face?

  Nope, that had happened numerous times before, a natural consequence of his job.

  The worst thing that could happen is that she could stand inside her town house and ignore him. That was far worse, because it would indicate indifference, and that wasn’t what he felt.

  No, he wanted her to open the door so he could update her and make sure she was okay. Then he’d have an excuse to spend more time in her presence. That’s what he wanted.

  * * *

  He was sitting in his car, staring at her house, and Savannah didn’t know what to do. No, that wasn’t true. She wanted to race out the door and into the car. She needed to feel the safety of having him near, but she couldn’t invite him in. Not while Addy slept on the couch, the soft light of the Christmas tree illuminating her face.

  Her niece was back with her at least for a while. That was good and it was okay. Savannah would make sure the girl was okay.

  The reality of what her heart wanted and what her head knew her niece needed collided.

  She felt the reverberation like she’d felt the impact of John’s car rear-ending her.

  What would Addy do when she saw Jett next?

  Could the young woman see him as anything but the enemy? Addy desperately needed one place that she could feel completely safe. For the foreseeable future that was right here. Stasi needed time to get her life sorted, so Addy had to come first.

  If she wasn’t sure he could come in, then she would go to him.

  Savannah grabbed her coat and slipped out the front door. Snow had started flurrying and only took a moment to dot her coat. A moment later she tapped his passenger window. He unlocked the door, and she slid inside. She swiped a hand down her face, then turned to watch him. “Were you planning to sit here all afternoon?”

  “I wasn’t sure you were home.”

  “Most people would call
or knock.” She smiled at him. “You look terrible. Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “No. I had massive amounts of research to do halfway around the world. So I was up all night researching and writing an article.” He looked at her with eyes so burdened she thought her heart would break. “I am so sorry, Savannah.”

  “For what?”

  “For losing sight of the truth. I set events in motion that led to Dustin’s death.”

  Wow. She hadn’t seen him going there. “That’s not true, Jett. That burden lies at the feet of the man who kidnapped and murdered Grace Martin. It lies at the feet of James Martin. Those are the men who killed Dustin, not you.”

  “If I hadn’t written the article, Martin wouldn’t have fixated on him.”

  “True, but most of us don’t read an article and start plotting to kill someone.” She paused as an idea began to form in her mind. “Jett, did you think that any of the information contained in the article was false or untrue?”

  “No.” His answer was quick and adamant. “It was all rock solid.”

  “Did you intend to knowingly spread lies?”

  “Of course not. I’m offended you’d ask.”

  “Then the law won’t find fault with what you wrote. It’s not defamation. Your heart is heavy, and that’s good. But you can’t carry this forever. Learn from it. Name what you could have or should have done differently. Then let it go.”

  They were silent for a moment as she studied him. His face had taken on lines in the couple of weeks she’d known him. “You’ll make it through this.”

  “I tried to resign this morning.”

  “I take it your editor didn’t agree.”

  “Not yet. I’m supposed to write an editorial about truth.”

  She wanted to reach over and smooth the lines from his face, the pain from his heart. “No one better than a champion of truth to write that.”

  “You sound like you’re okay with everything.” He inhaled as if to push words out. “With me.”

  “I am.” She nodded toward the house. “Addy will be too. And eventually you will. I think that’s what you told her yesterday.”

  “Truth doesn’t have an expiration date.” He reached over and took her hand. “I’m glad we found it.”