his jaw that Vanessa had brought after Mitch's fist took him down. It didn't stop Graham from still trying to give orders. "And Jonas here will be serving as my lawyer for now, and Vanessa over there as my wife's counsel."
Jonas frowned and shook his head. "I don't know, Graham. If you or Ellie had anything to do with Lisa's earlier injuries, I don't know."
"I'll represent you both for now, if that's all right," Vanessa piped up.
Rats off a sinking ship, Mitch thought, with Vanessa hoping to take over the helm. But he didn't care. He really didn't care about anything if he lost Lisa now--again. He ignored all of them as he jogged over to the emergency vehicle with the sheriff right behind him.
"How long to get a chopper in the air?" he asked.
"They're on their way," the driver told him. "But they can only fly surveillance over most of the area downriver from here."
"That's what we need. But they can hover and drop a rescue rope or basket. If they need someone to do that, I'll go down."
"If they haven't left the area," the sheriff said. "If we're in time."
Lisa knew she had only one chance to try to grab the wing and get out of the water and onto the wrecked fuselage. She could see and smell fuel spilling into the water and didn't want a ride through that. But what if the plane exploded? Would fuel ignite in this much moving water?
With the remnants of her spent strength, Lisa seized the strut of the plane under the wing that she'd used to haul herself up the day Ginger died, and held on. Water poured at, over and under the wing, and she had to climb to get to the split cockpit. The wreck of the plane was like a sieve, like the tree that had let Mitch rescue her not far from here.
Water pounded her back, but when she boosted herself slightly, it also thrust her upward as if a huge hand had pushed her from the river. Gasping for air, sprawled on her stomach across what must have been the copilot's seat, she grabbed on and held tight.
But the plane was shuddering as if it could be swept downriver toward the falls any moment. Should she let go and try to distance herself from this dead, broken ruin?
Then, Lisa saw the real ruin of a life sprawled and broken, the real monster, who had planned all the accidents, all the torments.
Trapped by her seat belt, Ellie was half in the pilot seat, half out. Her upper torso was pinned between the seat and the broken side window, through which a separate spray of gray water spewed.
Lisa braced herself, reached over and unfastened the seat belt, then hauled Ellie partway toward her like a limp rag doll. If she was dead, she'd leave her here, but if she was alive, she had much to answer for. Ellie felt cold, so cold. Both of them were so cold and battered.
Battered--Christine had fought back from being battered. Christine did what she had to do to save herself.
Lisa tried to pull Ellie closer, but her right leg was trapped between the back of her seat and the cockpit wall. What was left of the other side of the cockpit made a barrier to give some breathing space, at least for now, Lisa thought, as the entire plane shook and wobbled.
Leave Ellie or pull her out, whatever it took? Risk her life to get answers? Curiosity, the kind that killed the cat, kept Lisa there when she knew she should have fled the plane. Was Ellie jealous that Mitch hadn't fallen for their precious daughter, Claire, to become coheirs of the firm as Graham and Ellie had? Did she fear that Graham would be discovered as the spider behind the casino case debacle if Mitch and Lisa got their heads together again?
"Ellie!" she shouted and shook her shoulder feebly with one icy hand.
Ellie opened her eyes and groaned.
"Ellie, it's Lisa. Tell me why you tried to kill me. Tell me, and I'll pull you out of here."
"Too late. Can't tell. Don't tell Claire."
"I'm going to leave you here so I can tell everyone the truth. Claire is going to know how Graham managed the casino case scam to avoid being caught. She will be haunted by the scandal, the stigma, and by your murder of an innocent person and your own suicide. Believe me, I know."
"Too bad about Ginger, but--blackmailing