Émilie tells him. He’s still suspicious, particularly about the possibility Émilie flew it in herself. So he quizzes her, and meets each answer with a sniff that reminds me of when guys quizzed me on guns. Instead of nodding at my answers with grudging acceptance, they’d give this sniff, as they watched their chance to mock me plummet. Victor might be really hoping Émilie has a plane, but he can’t help being annoyed, too, that she isn’t fitting into his prebuilt little-old-lady box.
Finally he says, “Fine. You know how to fly and you own a plane. Doesn’t mean you brought it here.”
“Would you like me to fly a loop over the forest for you?”
“Can’t fly loops in that.”
“Then might I suggest you’ve never flown one?”
She doesn’t say a Cessna TTx is out of his price range. She doesn’t need to. He mutters in Danish as she tugs control into her corner of the mat. He’d fooled us with his unaccented and idiomatic English, but that’s our fault—failing to remember that not everyone who speaks perfect English is a native English speaker.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll take the plane.”
“Borrow it, you mean.”
“Hell, no. I need to get out of this mess, and that baby is worth a pretty penny. That’s the price of your grandgirl, Miz Émilie.”
“All right.”
Hesitation, as if he realizes he should have asked for more.
Émilie continues. “I’ll tell the sheriff that I’m flying to search for my granddaughter. If they insist I take a copilot, I’ll bring the council representative. He isn’t aware of the situation, but his silence would come cheap. He’s been exiled here, and he’s rather desperate to leave.”
Victor grunts. “I know how he feels. I was brought in on this damn job by a buddy who swore the company knew the value of good employees. I have a feeling his opinion changed, but I can’t ask him, since he’s lying in pieces somewhere in this fucking forest.”
“I would point out that I am not your employer,” she says. “I have not been affiliated with your employer in thirty years. But that is hardly your point or your concern. You feel that you’ve been betrayed and you want out, and I am going to provide that. Tell me where you left your plane, and I will join you there in one hour.”
* * *
The plane isn’t within easy walking distance. The Danes must have been given an area to search for hostiles, and they’ve landed on the other side of it, as far as possible from Rockton. So we’re taking the ATV while Émilie flies.
Phil is not going with Émilie. Dalton is. He’s playing Phil. Yep, when I first suggested that, I got a split-second “Huh?” look from Dalton, as if I’d forgotten that he’d been there when we found Victor … who isn’t actually blind.
“You’ll be wearing shades and hearing protectors,” I say. “You should fit into Phil’s business clothes.”
A tiny whimper from Phil, who clears his throat to cover it.
“We’ll get them dry-cleaned after,” I say. “Or, more likely, replaced. If Eric has to wrestle Victor down, he might break a seam or two.”
“If that is a disparaging comment about my physique, I am in perfectly fine shape,” Phil says. “Eric is hardly Will. He won’t burst from my shirts like the Incredible Hulk.”
“Damn,” I say. “’Cause that’d be hot.”
A low rumble of chuckles as everyone relaxes a little.
I continue. “We’ll borrow your glasses, too, Phil, in case he needs to remove his shades.”
He hands them over. Dalton puts them on, and I say, “You owe me twenty bucks. Right?”
“Yeah,” Dalton mutters.
Émilie’s brows rise.
“We had a bet,” I say. “I said they were plain glass.”
Phil opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off with, “Let’s finish playing dress-up and get going.”
* * *