Marlene kissed her husband’s forehead then rejoined Rye in the hall. As they walked back toward the elevator, she told him she would ride down with him.
While they waited for the elevator, Rye asked her if she thought the guy who rented space in Brady’s hangar had been the one to attack him. “If so, that must’ve been some quarrel.”
“I don’t know the man except by name, and only through Brady. He described their argument as ‘heated,’ but that could have been an understatement to keep me from worrying. When Deputy Thatcher asked me if Brady had any enemies, I couldn’t think of anyone else that he’s been crosswise with.”
Rye knew little of Brady White, but he seemed like a man who made more friends than enemies. Even if this dispute over the cost of fuel had cultivated him a violent enemy, how would that guy have known Brady was going to be out there last night when every other airport was shut down? Oh, and have a laser with him. And one angry lessee didn’t compute with two sets of footprints.
Much more likely was that whoever had attacked Brady knew he would be on duty at the airfield, which meant they knew that Rye was scheduled to land there.
“Marlene, besides you, did Brady tell anybody about me coming in, give anyone my ETA?”
“Not to my knowledge. Why?”
“Just narrowing down the suspects.”
“That’s hardly your responsibility.”
“I feel responsible.”
She patted his arm. “The assault on Brady had nothing to do with you.”
Maybe not directly. But did it have to do with Brynn O’Neal?
The elevator arrived. As they boarded, Rye switched subjects. “I take it that Brady is an aviation buff.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Does he fly?”
Her expression turned rueful. “No.”
The elevator door opened on the lobby level. They stepped out, and Rye’s heart kicked against his ribs when he saw Brynn alighting from a sheriff’s unit parked in the porte cochere. Wilson was at the wheel. Brynn bent down and said something to him, then closed the door, and he drove away. She entered the lobby through the automatic doors. She was carrying that damn box.
Immediately spotting him and Marlene White, whom she must have recognized from the photograph on Brady’s desk, she made her way over. She acknowledged him with a nod, then turned her attention to Brady’s wife and introduced herself.
Mrs. White clasped Brynn’s hand as she had Rye’s. “Dr. O’Neal, thank you so much for seeing to Brady last night.”
“Call me Brynn, please. And you’re welcome. I only wish I could have done more. What’s his condition?”
Marlene repeated what she’d told him. “He regained consciousness only a little while ago. Just in time for Rye to see him.”
Brynn turned her gaze up to him. “You two talked?”
“We exchanged a few words. Not sure he’ll remember any of it.”
“Oh, he’ll remember,” Marlene said around a laugh. “He won’t forget you telling him that you’ll talk planes.”
“I’m surprised he doesn’t have his pilot’s license,” Rye said.
“He would if he could. All he ever wanted to do was fly. But he has a heart murmur caused by a faulty mitral valve. They discovered it when he was still in his teens, but he was probably born with it. He suffers mild symptoms that are controlled with medication. It doesn’t prevent him from doing pretty much whatever he wants to.”
“Except fly,” Rye said.
“Except fly,” she repeated sadly.
Brynn asked, “Doesn’t it bother him to manage the airfield, watch other people do what he would love to be doing?”
“No, just the opposite. He’s still plane crazy and enjoys the camaraderie with pilots.” She looked over at Rye. “When he heard that you were thumbing your nose at the weather and flying in here last night, he was as excited as a kid. As he left the house, he said, ‘I can’t wait to meet this fellow.’ Now he has. Your visit today will have meant the world to him.”
“When he’s recovered, I’ll come back and take him flying.”
Tears misted Marlene’s eyes. She pressed her hand to her chest. “He would love that.”
Rye could tell that his spontaneous offer had surprised Brynn. Hell, it had surprised him. He was aware of her searching his expression, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he bent down, picked up his flight bag from off the floor. “Now that it’s getting light, I need to go check on the plane.”
“How are you getting out there?” Marlene asked. “You don’t have a car, do you?”
“I’ll figure out something.”
“You’ll take mine.”
He chuffed and gave his head a hard shake. “I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can.”
He searched for a reason to refuse. “Didn’t a deputy drive you here last night?”
“He offered. I declined.”
“Because you thought you would need your car.”
“I thought I might. But I don’t. I’ve got friends and relatives begging to know what they can do for me. If I need a ride before you get back, I’ll have my choice. Let me go get the key.”
“Mrs. White—Marlene, I can’t take your car.”
“Please. Brady would loan you his pickup if he could.”
She was looking at him with such appeal, he could tell that it was important to her that he accept. He bobbed his head and gave her a gruff okay. “Thanks. I won’t keep it for long.”
“For as long as you need it, it’s yours to use. I’ll go get the key.” She turned to Brynn. “Will you still be here when I come down?”
“I’m afraid not.” She motioned toward the entrance. Wilson was just pulling his car to a stop. “My ride is back. I’m glad I caught you, though. I didn’t want to leave town without checking on your husband’s condition. Please tell him I wish him a speedy recovery. But not to rush it,” she added with mock sternness.
“I’ll tell him.”
Brynn reached into her coat pocket. “I wrote down my cell number. I would appreciate knowing how he’s coming along.” Marlene took the slip of paper from Brynn, then clasped her hand as before. “Thank you again for what you did for Brady last night.”
“It was precious little. I regret not having had the pleasure of meeting him when he was conscious.”
“Maybe you could come back with Rye.”
He and Brynn gave each other a fleeting look, but neither made a commitment.
Sensing the awkwardness she had unwittingly created, Marlene gave Brynn a quick goodbye hug, then told Rye she would soon be back with her car key. The elevator door opened as soon as she pushed the button.
Then he and Brynn were alone in the lobby. Even the woman at the sliding window had deserted her post.
Brynn looked up at him, but not directly. Somewhere in the general vicinity of his chin. She said, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess.” He looked out at the sheriff’s unit. “Wilson’s chauffeuring you all the way to Atlanta?”
“No. The Ford dealership here in town leases cars. Of course it’s closed today, but, under the circumstances, Wilson thinks the owner might open long enough for me to get a car. But I hated to call him so early on a holiday. I’m waiting until nine o’clock.”
He nodded to all that but remarked on none of it.
After the short lapse, she asked, “You’re going out to the crash site?”
“Yeah.” He looked toward the entrance again. The vapor from Wilson’s tailpipe was adding ghosts to the fog. “Maybe this stuff will burn off soon, and I can get some pictures on my phone.”
“They won’t be pretty pictures.”
“’Fraid not.”
“I’m really sorry about the plane.”
“Me, too.” He repositioned the strap of his flight bag on his shoulder and tried his damnedest not to notice the strand of hair that kept slipping from behind her ear and curving against her cheek like a black satin question mark. “You’d better not keep Johnny Law waiting any longer.”
She looked outside and smiled. “I think he’s a little ticked for having to babysit me.”
Rye noted the time. “Less than two hours till nine.”
“He’s offered to take me to breakfast while we wait. Maybe a hot meal will improve his mood.” Coming back to Rye, she said, “Well…” and stuck out her right hand.