Read Online Brainstorm by Margaret Belle - Free Book Online Page B

explained
what had happened, and how I suspected it was Carl who had been driving the
truck.
    “Call Harley and ask what he drives,” he said.
    It took me a minute to get her on the line. “A gray
truck,” she said, “why?”
    “With tinted windows?”
    “Yes. What’s this about?”
    “Do you know his license number?”
    “No, I don’t! Why do you want to know?”
    I told her how he had followed me as I was bringing her
car to her. “Oh, God,” she said, “he’s going to find me!”
    “No, he isn’t,” I tried to assure her, “I turned around
before he could possibly know where I was going. We have to figure out how to
switch vehicles so you can get a new one right away. I’ll call you back.”
    “Let me guess,” said Jack. “Carl has a gray truck with
tinted windows.”
    I nodded my head. “What are we going to do?”
    “Tell me where he lives,” he said. “I’ll go there and
park nearby. Once I’m sure he’s home, I’ll call you and you can head to
Harley’s. If he gets in the truck, I’ll find a reason to pull him over.”
    I smiled, and the look in my eyes must have given him a
hint of what I was feeling. “Don’t kiss me in front of the guys,” he warned.
“I’m working your investigation. I could get taken off the case.”
     
     
    I waited there until Jack called and said that Carl had
parked his truck near his house and had gone inside. I headed off toward Oswego
once again and called ahead so that Harley would know when to expect me. An
hour later, I followed her to a dealership where she turned her car in on a
used 4-wheel drive vehicle that she would need for snowy Oswego winters. Then
off to the DMV, where she turned in her old plates and had temporaries put on.
I gave her a hug and called Jack to tell him he could leave. I was on my way
back to Syracuse in Nelly, and Harley now had a vehicle that Carl would not
recognize. I felt like we had accomplished something big.
    Instead of heading back to the office, I drove to the
hospital to check on Tony. The stern day nurse allowed me into his room for
“one minute and not one second more”.   Matt St. John was there, speaking with Tony and writing in his notebook,
while Rose smoothed blankets and adjusted the pillows behind her brother’s
head. When she saw me, she waved me in. Tony was one big mass of tape,
bandages, and plaster. His left leg was in traction, his head was bandaged, and
both arms were in casts. He was conscious, but looked just awful. I went to the
opposite side of the bed and gently touched his hand. “How are you?”
    He shrugged. “I’ll live, but the Soul of Syracuse is a
goner. I’ve had that plane for a long time.”
    “Listen,” I said, “I’m just glad you’re not a goner, although I have to tell you, you had me
wondering if you were going to pull through. I’ve been so worried about you. Do
you remember anything about what happened? Did the plane make funny noises? Or
did any warning lights come on? You know the plane so well – do you have any
idea what could have caused it to fall?”
    “Falling” was a term Tony used when talking about planes
dropping out of the air, or making emergency landings, and he’d made a few of
those. Eight years ago January, during his first week of air traffic reporting,
water had somehow gotten into the gas tanks that he used to fuel the plane.
While he was in the air, the water in the gas line froze and stopped fuel from
getting to the engine. Tony had “fallen” out of the sky, but had managed to
guide his plane to a stone quarry, where he’d landed safely. On another
occasion, his landing gear failed and he’d flown in circles, dumping fuel,
flying lower and lower, until he was able to land on the plane’s belly in a
grassy area. He was a fearless flier and a fearless faller.
    “This time it was out of my control,” he said. “Those
other times I’ve managed to bring the plane in safely with only minor repairs
necessary. But this was