they talked, Bran phoned FAA flight service, but Jessie couldn’t hear the conversation.
“So where does your investigation go from here?” Colt asked her.
“If the weather holds, Bran’s flying us down to California to talk to a woman my father was dating when he was killed. She disappeared just days after he died and no one’s seen her since.”
Bran ended the call. “We’ve got about a two-hour window to get the plane in the air. After that, the weather’ll keep us grounded.”
“Then you better get going,” Colt said. “Your gear bag’s on the bed. You coming back this way?”
“Jessie lives in Denver, so yeah, eventually we’ll be back.”
Or at least she would be. Bran would be going back to Dallas. The weight that suddenly pressed like a steel ball on her chest was not a good sign.
Colt took off, Jessie changed into jeans, winter boots, and a sweater, and they checked out of the motel. No use keeping the room not knowing how long they’d be in California or where the investigation might lead next. As they loaded the stuff in her car, Bran made a sweep of the vehicle with the bug detector he’d retrieved from his gear bag. Jessie breathed a sigh of relief when the car came up clean.
Bran had called ahead and had the twin-engine Baron towed out of its hangar. Gleaming white with a narrow blue stripe, it sat waiting, fueled and ready for takeoff. It seemed Bran spent an inordinate amount of time doing his exterior flight check, and it occurred to her he was look for more than GPS tracking devices. Her stomach knotted as she realized he was searching for explosives.
Eventually, he seemed satisfied and they climbed into the cockpit. Jessie didn’t like the thought of flying in rough weather, but she had faith in the pilot. They settled themselves in the seats, strapped in, and put on their headsets. Bran completed the flight check, cleared with the tower, the engine revved, and the plane began to roll down the tarmac.
“How far will we be going today?” Jessie asked, communicating through the mic on her headset as the Baron lifted into the air.
“It won’t be too long before dark and the weather starts closing in. We’ll stay out of the mountains, head south over the valley, then turn west to Albuquerque. It’s a little less than a two-hour flight. We’ll spend the night there, get an early start, fly on down to San Diego in the morning.”
She relaxed back in her seat. It sounded like a good plan.
Or it did until the plane flew into a cloud bank a few miles south of town and started pitching and shaking.
“Hang on. It’s just turbulence. We’ll be out of it in a minute.”
The plane battled through the rough air and flew on. Eventually, the flight smoothed out enough for her to enjoy the view over the flat, arid landscape. Mountains rose on both sides, some covered with snow, but they were miles away. She was just beginning to relax when the engine started sputtering, and an odd shudder rippled through the cabin.
She flashed Bran an uneasy glance, saw that he was wearing the same expression he’d worn the night he’d gone after Tank, and her heart began to beat a little faster. Bran toggled switches and checked a panel of gauges, flipped more switches, then the wings suddenly tipped sideways as the left engine coughed, sputtered, and died.
Oh, my God!
“Fuck.”
Hysteria threatened, but she battled it down. Features grim, Bran worked to level the wings and attempted to restart the engine, adjusting the throttle and working levers, but the engine never fired.
“Something’s wrong with the fuel.” He cut the gas to the now silent engine and continued working switches and checking gauges. “If we lose the other engine, we’re in trouble. I need to find a place to set down.”
She swallowed, her heart racing, trying to pound its way through her ribs. She wondered if her face was as bloodless as it felt.
Bran nosed the plane downward, his gaze searching the vast open landscape beneath them. Jessie started looking, too, though she wasn’t sure what kind of spot he needed to land a twin-engine plane.
“Sh-shouldn’t we radio for help?”
Bran didn’t answer and she realized the other engine was sputtering, threatening to fail. Fear gripped her. Her stomach rolled with nausea. She had never liked flying. Now she knew why. Bran worked the controls, dropping altitude as fast as he dared, his gaze still scanning the ground