not with the foster families they’d tried to place him with.
School and studying came easily. He’d breezed through high school, graduated just after he’d turned sixteen. Right after that, he’d left. Left. Not run. Just stuffed his few things into a paper sack and walked out the front door. No one tried to stop him. For a few years, he’d bummed around, taking odd jobs, eating when he could, living on the streets. By one of his favorite haunts, he’d seen a weathered recruitment poster. We Want You! For over a year, he’d cursed at that picture, knowing it was a lie. Then, for no reason he could identify, he’d walked into the recruiting office on his eighteenth birthday and found out the poster had been telling the truth.
With nothing to distract him, he’d funneled all his energy into his career, and it had paid off big. In record time he’d become one of the navy’s top fighter pilots with medals and ribbons and accolades that even the broadest of chests couldn’t accommodate. But then he’d risked everything and lost it all.
With a swift curse, he kick-started his bike. He wasn’t going to think about that. Instead, he turned his thoughts to last night’s call with the realtor. He knew Mexico wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was the best he had right now. He needed to get away, find a quiet place where he could think, and figure out what he was going to do next, now that the F-18s he loved were no longer an option.
Damp roads and a clear sky were the only remnants of last night’s shower. A quick glance at his watch told him it wasn’t even seven. He bypassed the local drive-through coffee stand and hit the road. He needed to kill some time before he headed over to Blue Sky Air.
A handful of miles down the road, he pulled into a service station combo mini-mart. After filling his tank, he grabbed a cup of coffee, paid, and then headed back outside. A weathered picnic table was chained to a telephone booth. Bracing himself against the table’s side, he took the lid off his coffee and inhaled. Damn, but there was nothing like a good cup of joe in the morning.
He blew the steam away and took a drink as he watched the traffic. Only a few cars drove past, and fewer still pulled into the station.
The minutes inched by. Finishing his coffee, he looked at his watch once more: 7:10. Perfect. He’d wasted enough time.
A short while later, he pulled off the main road. The rumble from his engine echoed off the still lake and filled the quiet yard. He angled his bike into a parking spot next to a shiny red Corvette. As he cut the engine, he eyed the extravagant car, trying to remember where he’d seen it last. And then he remembered: yesterday, at the restaurant. It didn’t take much of a deduction to figure the car belonged to Jenny.
Taking off his helmet, he got off the bike and surveyed the area. When he’d been here yesterday, he’d barely looked around. Now he took a longer look. And what he saw confirmed his suspicions: without Steven at the helm, the place was all but dead.
Yesterday, the plane had been in the hangar off to his left. Today, it was anchored at the end of the dock. He eyed it with contempt. Once more he wondered how his friend had gone from flying jets to flying charters.
The hangar, like the home and yard, had an air of recent neglect. Trim was missing around the windows, and on the side there was a gaping hole, which Jared could only assume was meant for a door.
The house was as quiet as the rest of the place and also in need of attention. The cedar-shingle siding was weathered and grayed, the trim in desperate need of a fresh coat of white paint, and the roof in dire need of attention. But even with all that obvious maintenance needed, he had to admit that the sprawling home had a decidedly comfortable look, as if whoever built it took their cue from the surrounding landscape and strived to find harmony between the two. A large front porch wrapped around the bottom story of the house. On the far end, several rocking chairs were grouped together. A gentle breeze coming in from the lake tipped and rocked the chairs. Just past the lawn’s tall grass and on