Read Online Edge of Flight by Kate Jaimet - Free Book Online Page B

git you,” Loretta says. “Remember, I know them boys, and they all know me. I know how to handle ’em. You don’t.”
    Those are her last words. A few minutes later, the truck jolts to a stop, and I feel the driver’s door open, then slam shut.
    â€œWhy, deputy!” The waitress’s voice sounds high and cheerful. Flirty. “You’re surely makin’ it a late night.”
    â€œLoretta,” comes the voice of the deputy. “What brings you out here?”
    His voice sounds defensive. Guilty. Like someone who’s been caught shoplifting a chocolate bar and tries to hide it behind his back.
    Loretta’s voice is warm and sweet as honey. “My brother’s got a huntin’ camp a little ways farther on. I was fixin’ to visit him, and then I spotted y’all. And I said to myself, them boys look like they could do with a little company.”
    â€œWe surely could, Loretta. What’s that you’ve got there in the bottle?” asks the deputy.
    â€œA little brew of my own, Jim. Care for a taste?”
    â€œDon’t mind if I do…”
    The banter continues. Loretta’s voice, the deputy’s, and the voices of two bikers, Shank and Blade. Loretta’s Southern-charm offensive seems to go on for hours. Lying beneath the blanket, I drift in and out of sleep. Bits of conversation and laughter mix in my head with nightmares of dark caves, blood-soaked wounds and Jeb moaning in pain.
    Finally, the click of the truck door wakes me up.
    â€œVanisha,” Loretta whispers.
    I sit up. “What happened?”
    â€œThey’re stone-cold drunk and sleepin’ like babies,” she whispers. “Let’s go find your friend.”
    My legs prickle with pins and needles as I uncurl from beneath the blanket and step out. Jeb’s truck looks like something hauled out of a junkyard. The windows are smashed, the doors are bashed in, the tires are slashed and the hood is dented in a dozen places.
    â€œHope your friend’s in better shape than his truck,” Loretta whispers.
    â€œI hope so too.”
    The campfire has died down to a pile of charred embers and a few glowing logs. The two bikers are snoring on either side of it, lying on our sleeping mats. They must have stolen them from the back of the truck. The deputy, who obviously wasn’t planning to stay the night, is passed out on the ground with his back propped against a tree stump.
    â€œDid you get your evidence?” I whisper to Loretta.
    â€œCaught the deputy-sheriff on video, smokin’ a joint with them bikers. Wait till I hand that over to the state troopers.”
    I grab a flashlight from Loretta’s jeep and run to the top of Edge of Flight to retrieve the rope and my climbing harness. We drive the jeep a little farther away, so that if the men wake up, they’ll think Loretta’s gone. And we can evacuate Jeb without having to pass through the campsite again.
    â€œDo you know how to rappel?” I ask as we pick our way through the woods toward the Chimney.
    â€œHoney, I spent my whole life tryin’ to attract men, not repel ’em,” she says.
    â€œNo, I mean like rappel down a rope.”
    â€œHoney, I don’t even know what that means.”
    We arrive at the Chimney, a dark gash in the earth. I shine the flashlight down it. The rock walls seem to close in like a trap. Anything could be lurking inside. Snakes, spiders, rats.
    Loretta takes one look and steps away, shaking her head. “I don’t think so, hon.”
    â€œIt’s not that bad,” I say. “Besides, that’s where Jeb is.”
    â€œDown there?”
    â€œYeah. That’s where the cave is.”
    I unclip a couple of slings from my harness and wrap them around the trunks of two trees close to the Chimney entrance. I gather the slings together and clip two ’biners onto them. Two trees, two slings, two ’biners. If one fails,