Читать книгу Crash Landing - Becky Avella - Страница 15

FOUR

Bullets zinged around Sean as he sprinted for Deanna’s plane. He was only yards ahead of the pursuing men behind him, and they were catching up quickly. Midstride, Sean turned and used the pilot’s shotgun to send a warning shot at the closest man. As he pulled the trigger, recognition dawned. His pursuer was Rex Turner.

Rex owned the Wagon Wheel restaurant on Main Street in Kinakane. He was a tall man with a shiny bald head, a big belly and an even bigger smile. Sean’s bullet missed, and clods of earth exploded at Rex’s feet. Rex wasn’t smiling today.

How many more of the men behind him would Sean recognize? Were there others he considered friends or acquaintances, men he’d done business with, who were now determined to kill him because he knew too much?

Deep guttural shouts and revving truck engines clashed with the high-pitched pinging of the bullets spitting up dirt and grass around Sean’s feet, urging him forward. Some of the men had turned back for their vehicles and would reach them soon.

His lungs burned from the smoky air he inhaled and from the sheer exertion required to stay ahead of the men, their bullets and their quickly approaching trucks. He worried Deanna wouldn’t be able to keep up, but she was light and fast, and she didn’t miss a step.

“Don’t stop running until we’re in the plane,” he called to her. “Keep moving no matter what. It’s harder to hit a moving target.”

“You’re going to have to cover for me while I get the engine going,” Deanna huffed. She scrambled up the plane and into the cockpit. Bullets hit the wing above her, narrowly missing her. Sean ran to his side of the plane and climbed in, using the open door as a shield.

“I’ll cover you,” he panted. “You worry about getting us in the air.”

* * *

Deanna checked to make sure the fuel switch on the floor was on and then gave the prime a few shots. She eased the throttle partway in and then reached for the key. Her hands were shaking so violently it was hard to turn the ignition.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she pleaded.

Sean kept the door open as a barrier between him and the advancing men. He bobbed up and down, answering each of their shots with shots of his own. The closest man reached the plane and was grasping for Deanna’s door handle when the engine sputtered to life.

“Sean,” she yelled. “Get this guy off me.”

Deanna leaned forward, while Sean reached across her back, sticking the butt of the shotgun through the open window. He slammed it hard into the man’s nose. The man rolled away from the moving plane, bleeding but still alive.

“That was Greg Martin,” Sean said. She heard the shock in his voice, but there was no time to stop and process who was out there shooting at them.

“Time to go!” she shouted.

Deanna pushed the throttle all the way in, watching the airspeed indicator come to life. Sean fell back into his own seat, slamming his door closed.

“Come on, baby, faster,” she implored the plane as it rolled down the meadow. The seconds it took to gain speed felt like months. Sean didn’t say a word; his eyes were closed, his lips moving. Praying?

She used to pray all the time before her dad put the kibosh on it and convinced her it was useless. Gram was tight with God. Deanna suspected Gram spent countless hours on her knees praying for her backslidden granddaughter, but Deanna had made a decision a long time ago that she’d rely on no one but herself. Hopefully, Sean’s prayers would be enough for both of them.

They gained speed, and the nose of the plane tipped up, until finally, gravity pressed against her chest. A hot breeze from the open window on her left tickled her cheek. She held her breath as they continued climbing.

Sean’s eyes opened. “You did it,” he said and hit the ceiling in joy. “Deanna Jackson,” he chuckled, “you are amazing. I thought that was the end down there.”

“Not just me. You were amazing, too. I thought we were finished,” she admitted. Her voice sounded small in her headset.

Sean had fixed the mess that she had made. She might have gotten the plane off the ground, but she was still deep in his debt. She could now add him to the long list of people she owed something.

She couldn’t join in his celebrating yet. Too many unknowns still needled her. So many things to sort through, like “What do we do next?” She’d celebrate when they were on the ground at the airport and far away from this madness. Even then they wouldn’t be safe. Yes, they’d gotten in the air, but those men could find them easily in a town as small as Kinakane. Where could they hide?

Deanna frowned at the instrument panel. Both the right and left fuel gauges were dropping, fast enough to make her nervous. Kinakane’s airport was too rural for a traffic control tower. And if she put a Mayday out on the radio, that pilot in the meadow would be able to hear it and tell the men chasing them of their exact location.

They were on their own.

“I’ve got to head back for the airport,” Deanna said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He rested his head back. “We’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“Yeah, me and my brilliant ideas.” Why wasn’t he yelling and accusing her of almost getting him killed? “I hope you don’t think I expect you to still pay me for this disaster.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m grateful,” he said, looking out the window. “If it weren’t for you, that could still be going on behind my back. I needed to know.”

She sighed. Instead of blaming her, he was thanking her. Sean had always been such a good guy, even when he was a little kid. If you thought Sean, you thought nice. No one would ever say that about her, that was for sure.

“Maybe it would be better not to know. You know, ignorance is bliss and all that.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You gave me a new lead to look into with Dad. I haven’t had one in years. I can’t wrap my head around him being involved in anything illegal. But what do I know? I thought he wasn’t the type to ever leave us, either.”

“Hopefully, this has nothing to do with him,” she said.

“Hopefully,” he agreed wistfully. “But I’d rather have the truth hurt than not know anything at all.”

* * *

Sean exhaled, his mind racing. He sorted everything that had happened into categories and tried to prioritize what to think about first. One thought kept rising to the surface, demanding that he think about it even if it hurt. Was his family involved in this in any way? Was it just coincidence that they were using Loomis-Callaghan land, or was Sean a fool who’d been intentionally kept in the dark?

And who were the others he was referring to, anyway? “Did you recognize anyone?” he asked Deanna.

“A few. I saw Rex Turner,” she said, frowning. “Our businesses are steps away from each other. I see him every day, and I eat my lunch at the Wagon Wheel a couple times a week at least. He’s always been so nice to me.”

Sean nodded. “And I think I broke Greg’s nose.”

“I can’t imagine Greg being involved in this. At least, I don’t want to imagine it.”

“Me neither.”

Greg Martin was one of their former classmates. He wasn’t someone either of them would have called a close friend, but definitely more than an acquaintance. Another twelve-year vet who’d started kindergarten with them. In school, Greg was the clown, the guy everyone liked because he made people laugh.

“I bought a fishing license from him at the hardware store last week,” Sean said. “I’ve been laughing all week at a joke he told me. I never would have guessed this.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to be finding out a lot more people we’d never expect are in on this,” Deanna said. “I wish I could unknow all this. If I could go back, I’d never land in that meadow.”

* * *

There had been something else Deanna saw down there that Sean should know, but he wasn’t going to like it. She cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully.

“You’re pretty tight with Sheriff Johnson, right?” she asked.

“Jim’s one of my best friends,” Sean said. “Why?”

“I saw the sheriff’s department decal on one of the trucks down there.”

She added quickly, “I didn’t see the sheriff. It just seemed strange that one of their vehicles would be anywhere near there.”

“Maybe they’re making an arrest,” Sean said.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she mumbled unconvinced, but her attention was back on the fuel situation. It was dropping rapidly.

“Uh, this isn’t looking good...”

Before she could say more, the noisy buzz of the engine went dead quiet. A small cry of alarm escaped her lips.

“What just happened?” Sean asked, his voice too loud against the silence.

Deanna shook her head. Her vocal cords rebelled, as if speaking it aloud would make the situation more real than it already was. She swallowed. She was the pilot. It was imperative that she keep her cool.

“Tighten your seat belt, Sean.”

His frightened gaze met hers.

“The fuel tanks in the wings must have been hit by the bullets,” she explained.

“Are you telling me we have no fuel?”

Deanna closed her eyes briefly, then forced herself to admit it. “We have no fuel and no working engine, either.”

She wished she and God were on better terms. Help me. It was all she knew to say. “You’re a religious man, right?”

“Religious isn’t exactly how I’d define it, but I guess you could say that.”

“Then I recommend you start praying.”

“Are we crashing?” He asked, his ever-steady voice finally wavering.

“No. We are not crashing,” Deanna insisted. “But get ready, because we are going down for an off-airport landing.”

“A what?”

She pointed out the window. “See that alfalfa field?”

“Yes. I own it.”

“Well, now it’s our new airport.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was.” She met his gaze again. “Brace yourself.”