"Spike," Mitch ordered as he grabbed two PFDs and clambered out of the boat, "see if you can find Christine out there somewhere!" He gestured toward the lake and ran hell-bent for the ridge between the lake and the river.
With Lisa hanging on, her wrist still snagged by her bracelet, the plane flew low over the tall Sitka spruce along the ridge between the lake and the river. She dared not let go with her free hand to try to open the bracelet. She imagined she heard Christine shouting, but it was just the whine of the wind and the engine, which blended with the river's roar.
Did the pilot know she was hanging on and was trying to scrape her off on the treetops, or did he think Lisa was drowned and was just escaping? Surely, the plane would not go low enough to slam her into the cliffs of the Hairpin Gorge up ahead, because that would mean destruction for the plane. Yet the pilot seemed to be on a lark, swinging along, almost as if it were some sort of joy ride. But as the cliffs narrowed ahead, flying this low would be impossible. So did the pilot intend to take the plane higher--or commit suicide?
She knew then it wasn't Spike, for he would know the lay of the land and the terror of the rapids and the falls ahead--unless he was so distraught over Ginger's death that he had, as Christine said, snapped. No, she thought she knew now who was at the controls, maybe the same person who had been at the controls of the law firm, of Graham, maybe of that casino scheme. But why? Ellie Carlisle Bonner had money, lots of it. And a husband and daughter she loved.
A husband and daughter she loved--the words snagged in Lisa's stunned brain. She knew she was going to die now, either by dropping onto the cliffs or into the river. Strange, how facing death instantly clarified some things. A husband and daughter she loved--surely, Lisa's own mother had been shattered when her husband deserted her. She'd become suicidal, thinking she was doing Jani a favor by taking her with her. And she'd tried to kill Lisa, too, and she'd been suffering from being left behind all these years, tormented by the loss yet grateful she'd escaped. Worse, she'd blamed herself for pulling free of her mother, but she knew now that she had not caused her loved ones' deaths. Too late to keep tormenting herself--too late to pull free from this plane. But now, strangely, all that wouldn't matter soon, because she couldn't hold on much longer....
The bracelet, which held her left arm tight against the pontoon, reminded her of Mitch. She'd admired the seagulls flying free on the bracelet in the kitschy antique shop on Las Olas Boulevard in Lauderdale, and he'd bought it for her. He'd given it to her during a walk on the beach near Sunrise Avenue. Mitch--all the time they'd wasted apart when she could have been here with him, but now...
Lisa gasped when she saw that the plane was over the first part of the S turn in the canyon. This wasn't the way to Anchorage, the way to escape. Either Ellie meant to shake Lisa off here where she'd almost drowned before, or she intended to go down with the plane. Of course, Ellen Carlisle Bonner would not want questions, accusations, scandal. The one time she'd seen Ellie a nervous wreck was when the sheriff questioned her about Ginger.
So had Ellie hit Ginger with that spade handle and put her in the lake? No, this was all too unreal, all too--
The plane bumped and shuddered. Lisa's bracelet broke and fell away. Her wrist ached--imprinted with a seagull, deep in her flesh. If only she had stayed with Mitch, clung to Mitch. She fought to hang on as the plane slowed. It descended toward the frothing river and came closer to the cliffs of the narrowing gorge. Yes, Ellie, whether she thought she'd drowned Lisa in the lake or knew where she was now, was going to crash the plane.
As he ran toward the river, Mitch heard Spike speed away in his boat. Beyond the riverbank--just as when Lisa was pushed in last week--the snowmelt water raged. He squinted into the afternoon sun to search the sky, then the river. Nothing. No sign of anyone, not even a red