Killer Summer

38

As Walt’s Cherokee approached a string of taillights, his mobile rang. Seeing the caller ID, he answered it.

“What’d you find out?” he asked Myra.

“He’s at the airport,” she said. “I used the tracking thing. Best I can tell, he’s there, or right around there.”

“That’s not good,” he said. “She was seen getting into his car with a suitcase. If he’s seen as having aided her flight… Myra, he’s in trouble.”

Brandon looked out the side window, pretending not to hear.

“I’m on my way there,” she announced.

“He’s still not picking up?”

“No.”

“Can you text him?”

“Me? I have no idea how to do that. And I’m in my car.”

She was about to cry.

“I’ll call Pete. Hopefully, he can find him and put a cork in this.”

She thanked him and hung up.

A flash of brake lights. He flipped on the light rack and took the empty middle lane, reserved for vehicles turning either direction.

Walt quickly called Pete, head of operations at the airport, and filled him in on Kevin’s situation. Pete said he’d head down to the terminal and take a look around.

“I’ll call over to Sun Valley Air as well,” Pete said.

“Appreciate the help.”

“Back to you shortly.”

As they passed the entrance to the Rainbow Bend subdivision, Walt got a better look at the chaos up the road: a long line of taillights ahead of him, no headlights coming at him. A patrol car off the road-Ketchum police, maybe. A second later, he could make out the truck blocking the road.

“Are those logs?” Brandon asked.

Drivers were out of their cars. A few had gathered around the wrecked patrol car.

Walt and Brandon hurried to the patrol car. Brandon moved the onlookers aside. Walt wrenched open the door and determined the driver was dazed but otherwise seemingly okay.

He looked around, focusing first on the spilled logs, then the power pole lying across the bike-path bridge, the downed wires still spitting sparks.

He handed Brandon the keys to the Cherokee. “Get the power pole cleared first. No civilian traffic is to use the bike bridge, but get me a couple of our guys across if you can.”

“Got it,” Brandon said. “You?”

“Stay on comm,” Walt said, running for the bridge.