Page 29 of Red Boar's Baby

Diana frowned. It was true that female helicopter pilots were a relatively select club, so most people in her professional circles simply knew her because of that. But it bothered her to have someone asking questions about her under the circumstances. “Shifter?” she asked quietly.

“No. Human.”

She didn’t like this. But it could be completely unrelated. “Thank you for not giving out anything. If he comes back again, could you tell me? And maybe see if you can get a picture? Come up with an excuse if you have to. I don’t suppose he was on any cameras while he was there.”

“Dunno. I can check.” Luis gave her a worried look. “You think it’s about the kid?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” She retrieved her phone from the interns. “Okay, let’s see what’s in here. Luis, feel free to stick around if you want.”

There wasn’t much to see. As she’d thought, it was mostly trash. The most interesting thing was a rope cargo net, which presumably had been used to hold things down, but not necessarily on this trip. Diana photographed it diligently for Costa’s sake, but she couldn’t see anything that was worth sending over to the SCB. It was just stray items that had shaken loose in the crash, an aviation manual and a couple of soda bottles and some granola bar wrappers.

“I suppose the next thing is going to be talking to the company that owns the airplane, and that’s out of my hands,” Diana said, putting the junk back in the box with some disappointment. She had really enjoyed being part of the investigation for a little while.

Luis touched her shoulder. “Hey, if you find out where the kid belongs, let me know, huh? I’d like to know if she gets back to her folks.”

“I will,” Diana promised.

She drove the interns back to where she’d met them at the helipad with a vaguely sad sense of a door closing. Jessie and Fifi seemed disappointed as well.

“Do you work with the SCB regularly?” Jessie asked. “I’d love to go for another helicopter ride.”

“Not usually. Every once in a while, when they need a pilot, but mostly I’m doing my own thing. And it’s really too far for me to drive over regularly.”

“That must be tough if you’re dating the boss,” Fifi said.

Oops. She had temporarily forgotten. “Yeah, it puts a strain on the relationship.” To say the least.

She saw the interns to their car—actually Jessie’s truck. The sun was setting, and as they drove away, Diana inhaled deeply of the sweet evening air.

Her phone pinged with an incoming text. She looked down and smiled involuntarily at Costa’s name.

How’d it go at the sheriff’s office?

Nothing useful,Diana texted back. She hesitated; she wanted to add that her part in this was ended, that it was over to the SCB now, but she didn’t want to. The urge to stay connected to the case was still incredibly strong.

Instead, she texted,Where is little Em tonight?

The response was a photo, adorable Emmeline tucked into a blanket, looking up with her wide eyes. Diana’s chest did that thing again.

Right here,Costa texted.Nowhere else to put her for now. I can handle another night of lost sleep.

Diana stood with her phone in hand, the evening breeze sweeping over her. And for an instant, the urge to drive up to Tucson was so powerful it nearly overwhelmed her. If she started driving now, it wouldn’t be too late by the time she got there. And then?—

And then what? Another night spent on Costa’s couch, followed by another morning of temptation, aching for what she didn’t have?

Have a good evening,she texted quickly, before she lost her senses entirely. And then, possessed by a playful urge, she added,Kiss Em for me.

There was an unexpectedly long pause, as if Costa was trying to decide how to respond. He finally marked her text with a heart emoji, and that seemed to be that.

Diana walked to her car. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if working with the SCB would really be so impossible to manage. She lived almost two hours’ drive away, especially in commute traffic. But maybe she could consult? There were other options than a full-time job with the agency. Perhaps they could use a regular pilot. Maybe she could do field work. She was good at it, and it had caught her off guard how much she’d enjoyed working on this case with them.

In the end, she supposed, it wasn’t worth upending her life completely. She liked her life; she liked her job. She could gamble on a roll of the dice, offer to continue working the case with Costa’s people, see if she was capable of working with—and perhaps for—Costa without losing her head ...

But the far more reasonable thing was to go to work in the morning as usual and put all of this behind her. She could ask Costa to keep her in the loop when and if they found the place where Emmeline belonged. That was the only part that really mattered; there was no reason why she needed to continue to be involved with a plane crash investigation.

Staying out of it would be the sensible thing. The non-risky thing.

When did I turn into a person who doesn’t take risks?

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