Page 52 of Red Boar's Baby

CHAPTER18

Diana wasn’tsure why she was so on edge. If the original information about the wrecked plane’s flight path was an error, either in the initial report or the version of it that the dispatchers had relayed to the search team, she had seen worse ones in her time working S&R. And everything seemed fine so far. She watched the preflight checks with an expert’s eye, and nothing seemed strange or unusual. The takeoff went fine. Once they got in the air and settled into a cruising altitude, the pilot and copilot leaned close together, talking without using their headsets. But that wasn’t terribly unusual either—sometimes, up in the sky, you just wanted to chat without the possibility of air traffic control listening in.

Costa leaned across the aisle and touched her arm. It was difficult to talk with the aisle between them, so Diana unbuckled her seat and slid into the seat in front of Costa, where she could talk to him by leaning over the back.

“Something’s bothering you,” Costa said immediately. “What is it?”

“Is it that obvious?” She glanced up towards the cockpit. “I don’t know. I mean, I really don’t. This whole situation sits badly with me, and I can’t figure out why.”

“So far, they’re being cooperative.”

“Yes, but ...” Diana shook her head. She still struggled to justify her feeling. But Farley’s reaction had beenwrong. Most pilots would have been thrilled to meet someone else they could talk aviation with. Some people were weird about women being pilots, especially helicopter pilots, but that wasn’t the feeling she’d gotten from him. He just didn’t seem to want to talk about it. And she had backed off as well, suddenly not wanting him to know that she was also certified to fly small planes in addition to helicopters. Holding back a little information seemed warranted under the circumstances.

Maybe he was afraid she’d find out something she shouldn’t, and she didn’t want him looking at her more closely than he would be watching any ordinary passenger. Was he involved in reporting the missing flight? Maybe he was worried he would get in trouble for it.

“What do you think of them?” Costa asked quietly, seeming to read her mind. “The pilots, I mean.”

“They’re all right,” she said reluctantly. Then she decided to bring out at least one part of her suspicions. “That second guy who got on board, Jim—I’m not sure he’s a pilot.”

Costa frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s a sense. Yes, like shifters,” she said, when he stifled a grin, but she reluctantly grinned back. “He’s too indoorsy and too uninterested in the entire flight process and, just, I don’t know.”

“From what Thornburg said, he’s new.”

A new pilot would be more excited, Diana thought. Nothing would be routine or mundane yet. But she didn’t want to seem paranoid in Costa’s eyes, and her fears were already starting to appear exaggerated now that she examined them more closely.

So she shrugged and looked out the window. The desert was a patchwork far below of gold and brown, green farms, blue shadows. They were flying at about ten thousand feet, she guessed.

Costa also looked out the window. “See anything helpful?”

Diana shook her head.

Costa grinned at her. “Man, the beverage service on this flight sucks.”

“Can’t wait to find out what the in-flight movie’s like.”

Diana smiled.

They flew on for a while. Costa found a magazine in the back of a seat pocket. Diana, for her own part, couldn’t seem to settle down. The vague sense of wrongness continued to haunt her. Abruptly it settled into something more specific. She put her hand on Costa’s arm.

“What?” Costa asked. He didn’t sound irritated, merely curious.

“We’re turning.” Her inner ear told her so, but even if not for that, the shadows in the cabin were rotating across the seats.

“So?”

“So there’s no reason to. It’s a straight shot to Alamagordo once we’re in the air. Why would we turn?”

“Which direction are we flying now?” Costa asked, alarmed.

She was surprised he didn’t know. Gauging direction from the sun was almost second nature to her. “Southeast.”

“Taking us where?”

Once again she was surprised he didn’t know. “Into the mountains.”

“Exactly like the crashed plane.” Costa scowled. “What the hell, did we discover the Bermuda Triangle of the American Southwest?”

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