She dug in her handbag and pulled out a plastic baggie that held two peeled carrots. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.
“Carrots help fight air sickness?”
“No,” she said. “Barf into the baggie.”
He nodded. “Good thing it’s a short trip.”
Afton couldn’t possibly have felt more differently. She’d never been in a helicopter before, and even with the possibility of a very bad outcome, she was eager to hop aboard for the flight. Maybe it was the daredevil in her DNA, but the one lesson she’d learned from rock climbing was that the best views, the most spectacular views, were always seen from above.
A technician quickly helped Afton and Max don chunky helmets and gave a brief orientation on how to work the headsets. Feeling like she’d suddenly joined the Special Forces, Afton climbed into her seat and buckled in. Max took a seat across from her, raised a fist in solidarity, and buckled himself in, too.
A voice crackled through Afton’s headset: “Welcome aboard, Detectives.” She smiled when she heard that title even though it was inaccurate. The voice continued: “My name is Captain Mark Travers. Myself and Lieutenant Shoney will be flying you today.” His hands were flipping switches and his head swiveled back and forth even as he continued his preflight talk. “We’ll take a path down the Minnesota River until we’re just east of MSP International. At that point we’ll head due south to Cannon Falls.” The communications snapped off, then came on again briefly. “Sit back and relax and we’ll have you there in no time at all.”
Afton grinned from ear to ear when she felt the skids lift off the tarmac and they began their wobbly ascent. Soon, they were climbing higher, nose up, rotors screaming, as they lifted over the airport and flew out over an open expanse of snow. It appeared that the scrub of trees ahead were going to scrape the bottom of the helo as the gray, turgid river came into view, but they blasted over the naked branches unscathed.
The helo headed downstream over the partially frozen water. Below, large chunks of ice and floating trees bobbed along in the river’s swift, unbreakable current. Each year, a handful of people were swept into the river and pulled beneath the great expanses of ice, never to escape. Afton couldn’t imagine the horror of being trapped with no way to break free, hypothermia setting in, lungs screaming for a sip of air that would never come.
Banking left, the helo left the river flyway and moved south across a vast urban expanse consisting of straight-line streets and freeways, new housing developments, shopping centers, and golf courses, all looking soft and puffy under six inches of fresh snow.
Strong winds buffeted the helicopter as they gradually left the outer ring suburbs behind and eased into the rural area between The Cities and Cannon Falls. Afton watched as small forests, red barns with silver silos, and vast open spaces spun by below.
Max groaned loudly as a gust of wind shook them and they swayed and dipped like a fishing bobber on a lake filled with whitecaps.
“You doing okay?” Afton asked. Up front she could hear faint chatter as the pilot conversed with someone in ground control.
Max nodded. “Yup. No problem.”
Yet, Afton thought.
Despite the turbulence, the flight felt way too short for her. Cannon Falls was only thirty-five miles south of Saint Paul, so they were already riding lower, beginning a gradual descent. Just when she was wondering where they were going to set down, the helicopter swung around and she saw a sheet of undisturbed snow, and then metal bleachers and a scoreboard that announced, HOME OF THE BOMBERS.
A web of power lines zigzagged around the perimeter of the football field, and in order to make the landing, the pilot would have to fly dangerously close to some of those lines.
“Ho boy,” Max said and closed his eyes.
The wires were growing larger and larger in the cockpit’s window, and Afton was beginning to wonder when and where the pilot would set down. There was a sudden, stomach-lurching drop, as if they were hurtling down forty floors in an elevator. The wires spun by, almost too close for comfort, and then the helicopter bumped once and landed with determination on terra firma.
Afton tore off her helmet and looked around. Across the football field, two Goodhue County sheriff’s cruisers sat on an adjacent road, red and blue lights pulsing. She could just make out two men standing in front of the cars in what was fast becoming a murky blue-gray dusk.
“Our next ride is here,” Afton said to Max. She’d been bumped back to reality. Back to investigating a dead baby.
Max pivoted his head around, looking slightly unsettled. He seemed to be trying to take stock of where they were, and if they’d actually landed safely. “Okay,” he said.
Afton handed her helmet and headset to the pilot and said, “Thanks for the lift.”