“There’s one near every airfield in the world.”
“Where pilots go?”
“Gotta pass the time between flights somewhere.”
“Well, they noticed us and…” She made a rolling motion with her right hand.
He nodded in perfect understanding of what she meant by the gesture. “They sprung for a round, and invited themselves to join you, and you said okay.”
“We had to be polite.”
He gave her a look, and she laughed softly.
“A couple of them were really cute. Anyway, one was wearing a t-shirt with a freight dog logo on it. My friend asked what that was about, and they explained the kind of air cargo piloting they did. As the afternoon progressed, stories of their escapades got raunchier and less credible, all about their maverick lifestyle and derring-do. I guess they wanted to impress us.”
“They wanted to get laid.”
She gave him a quick look, which caused her to stumble.
Out of reflex, Rye took her arm in a steadying hand, and, before he could stop himself, asked, “Did they?”
She reclaimed her arm, turned her eyes downward, and picked up her pace. “Not by me.”
He snuffled. “No surprise there. You strike me as a lady who’s hard to impress.”
“I am, but what makes you think so?”
“Nothing in particular. I just figure you’re too smart to be taken in by bullshit.”
“Was it bullshit? Doesn’t your breed of pilot fly rickety airplanes, in any kind of weather, no matter how bad, at all hours of the night, at a moment’s notice, having had little or no sleep?”
“The planes aren’t always rickety, and sometimes the weather’s perfect. But that’s a fairly accurate job description.”
“Certainly a fair description in regard to tonight.”
“Conditions tonight were bad. But I would’ve made it fine if it hadn’t been for—”
“Hadn’t been for what?”
He tucked his chin into the raised collar of his jacket. “This damn fog.”
She looked at him with keen perception. “That wasn’t what you were going to say.” When he didn’t contradict her, she said, “I haven’t earned your trust yet?”
Not by a long shot, he thought. But he said, “Just wondering what’s going on with you, that’s all.”
“Nothing’s going on with me.”
“Oh, you go traipsing around in the woods alone every night at about this time.”
“No,” she said, dragging the word out. “Only when I witness an airplane crash.”
“Would you have come looking for the crash site if you hadn’t been after the box?”
“Of course.”
His derisive chuckle expressed his doubt. “What’s in it?”
“Why do you keep asking?”