Chapter 6
“You’re sure she’s flown into a lake before?” Terrance looked up at the scudding gray skies over Long Lake and frowned.
“Clare flew helicopters for the army and her parents own an airplane charter company. If she says she can do it, she can do it.”
“At least it means we won’t waste another day going from trailhead to trailhead.” Knox took a drink from the coffee she had gotten from the Long Lake general store.
They had spent Wednesday doing just that, the three of them crammed into the ranger’s truck along with enough equipment for an outfitter’s store: snowshoes, bedroll, hiking gear, flares, boxes of granola bars—Russ would have been impressed if they hadn’t had to shift and sort every time they got in and out of the vehicle.
“Crossing possibilities off the list isn’t a waste, Knox. ”
“I know.” She sighed. “I just—somehow I thought we could show up and find him. I didn’t realize how big the Park really is.”
Terrance stopped scanning the sky to look at Knox. “That’s a mistake too many people make.”
Russ heard the whining thrum of a propeller plane. A dot appeared in the southeast, growing larger and larger until it was a float plane. The craft swung wide along the southern end of the lake, invisible to the three of them standing on the landing pier, and began its descent.
Russ hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the plane touched down smoothly a hundred yards away.
It coasted toward the pier like a fat duck hoping for breadcrumbs, a wide wake trailing behind.
When it bumped the pier, Terrance clipped front and rear tiedowns to D-rings welded to the plane’s fuselage.
Clare stepped out, her face wild and happy, and he thought, Oh, darlin’.
We need to get you in the sky more often.
She hugged him fiercely, then turned to the ranger.
“You must be Paul Terrance. I’m Clare Fergusson.
” They shook hands. “Do you have a place where we can spread out the charts and plan our flight?”
“There’re some picnic benches next to the store.” Terrance thumbed toward the parking area. “I’ve got topo maps in my truck.”
Russ lagged behind the ranger and Knox. “You sure your parents are okay flying up here and loaning us the plane? I mean, fuel’s expensive.”
Clare laughed. “They were thrilled at the prospect of spending time with Ethan. They volunteered to bring him back with them to Virginia in case we need more ‘alone time.’ I think they’re hoping we’ll get carried away and give them another grandchild.”
Russ snorted. “No doubt.” Clare’s family had become much more enthusiastic about him after Ethan arrived.
Terrance already had the detailed maps laid out on a gray wooden picnic table. Clare unfolded her charts and the two of them began discussing topography and altitude in mind-numbing detail. “I’m going to make a coffee run,” Russ announced. “Who wants one?” Both their hands shot up.
By the time he returned, Clare (black, five sugars) and Terrance (cream, no sugar) had almost finished.
Clare was marking up a plastic flimsy with a series of arcane symbols and numbers.
She lit up when she saw him. “Perfect timing.” She took the go-cup.
“We’ve planned out a good search pattern.
” She waved toward Knox and Terrance. “Hey, you two. Hit the bathroom while you can.”
Russ looked up at the still-gray sky. “Is the weather going to be a problem?”
She shook her head. “Fuel. There’s no refueling at Long Lake, so I need enough to get me back to Glens Falls with a safety margin. Don’t worry, that still gives us two and a half hours.”
“That’s not a lot of time to cover an area that large.”
“We’re focusing on places where Paul’s uncle was most likely to have driven in.”
“Uncle? Pierre is his uncle?”
“Uh-huh. His mother’s brother. Never married, so still part of Paul’s grandmother’s family. I understand it’s an important relationship for Mohawks. All Iroquois, really.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I spent all yesterday with the guy. He never mentioned his relationship with the man.”
Clare gave him a look. “And you love to share personal information so much. I can’t understand it.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Hard to get you to shut up, really.” She snickered into her coffee.
“Remind me why I married you?”
“Hot sex. And adventure.” Her expression softened. “Are you going to be all right? Going up in the plane?”
“I’ll be okay. I mean, it’s not my favorite thing, but, you know, it’s not a helicopter.” He had a phobia of helicopters. Which, considering he’d crashed twice in them, wasn’t all that irrational.
“You don’t get motion sickness, do you, Chief?” Knox, back from the restroom, looked at him doubtfully.
“No.”
“I might have some Dramamine in my first aid kit,” Terrance offered.
“I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth.
Clare hid a smile. “Okay, everyone, load up. We’re wasting daylight.”
The float plane’s cabin was a roomy four-seater, designed for sightseeing, which was going to make their jobs easier. Clare had brought his binoculars from home, so with the ranger’s they had two pairs, one in the front with Terrance, one in the back with Russ and Knox.
“Okay, everyone, I need to pay close attention to distance and altitude, so you three will be doing the searching. If you think you see something, sing out, and I can circle back.” Clare raised her hand, displaying her battered Seiko on its olive-drab strap.
“At two and a half hours we head back, no arguments.” She flipped a few switches and the propellers whirred to life.
“Fasten your seat belts and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.” She grinned. “Let’s fly.”
They taxied along the length of the lake, the steely blue water bumping them, the pines and bare-leafed oaks flashing by faster and faster, and then they were in the air, rising swiftly and smoothly, and Clare banked away from the lake toward the white-peaked mountains and even Russ, who had never had a good day flying, could feel a little of the exultation of conquering the air.
It soon settled down to the tedium of searching.
They flew low, according to Clare, but it was still high enough to make picking details out of scarcely broken forest difficult.
At one point, Knox thought she saw a tent, or maybe machinery, but it turned out to be a rockfall.
They spent an hour flying over nearly invisible trails and then circling wider and wider until they broke and picked up the next impossible-to-spot trail.
A few groups of hikers looked up and waved as they passed overhead, but there wasn’t much activity in the Park on a Wednesday in December.
They would have missed it entirely if the sun hadn’t finally broken through the featureless clouds. “There.” The ranger’s voice was definitive. “Can you drop us lower? That looked like the roof of a truck.”
Clare tilted the plane sharply.
“Oh, hell. Oh yeah. That’s Pierre’s truck.”
Russ leaned across to peer out Knox’s window. He could see the flash of light on a square piece of metal, and maybe—maybe—a truck bed behind. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Clare was busy writing coordinates with a grease pencil on her plastic sheet. “Okay, I’ve got it. Or close enough.”
Terrance looked like he wanted to jump out of the plane and start the ground search right then and there.
“Clare, can you circle out from here?” Her turn had brought the object into Russ’s view, and it looked a lot more like a truck from his new vantage point.
“Chances are he was going northeast, toward the higher ground.” Terrance twisted in his seat. “That’s how we’re trained to do foot patrol; take the most difficult leg first.”
“Okay, I’m going to drop altitude a bit, but I may need to haul her up quickly, so make sure you’re strapped in tight.” Clare tilted the yoke and they eased downward, heading away from the sun that, even in the early afternoon, was already sinking toward the southwest.
Russ could only see the back of her head, small movements as she shifted constantly between the horizon, the instruments, the chart, and her flight plan. She started singing “Devil in the Blue Dress” under her breath and he smiled.
“Hey! There!” Knox clunked the binoculars against her window. “Smoke. And a campground?” She turned toward Terrance. “Is there a campsite out here?”
“No.”
“Where?” Clare stayed stuck to her instruments.
“Uh.” The ranger looked at her dial. “Another fifteen degrees starboard.”
The plane banked sharply. “Anything?” she asked.
“I see it!” Russ held out his hand. Knox slapped the binos into his palm. “No vehicles. Several tents. Large, not personal. Something—I can’t tell, it’s got foliage or a camo net over it. Maybe a pop-up shed? Clare, get the coordinates.”
“I’m getting them, I’m getting them, holy crap!”
Russ heard the blast of gunfire the second before the little plane sped up and tipped sideways. His cold coffee tumbled, spilling across his chest, as everything in the cabin clattered toward his window.
“Hold on,” Clare said in an unnaturally calm voice. He heard another gunshot from below.
“Can they even hit us this high?” Knox squeaked out.
“Yes,” Russ and Clare answered at the same time.
She looped them vertically like a car on a Tilt-A-Whirl, the plane going faster and faster, the propellers shrieking, and then they leveled out and shot away toward the east, twice as high and rising fast. He heard Clare take a deep breath. Then another.
“I feel sick,” Knox said.
“Bag’s in the door next to you.” Clare was still professionally calm. “Everyone else okay?”
Russ and Terrance both answered yes.
“Paul, I want you to take a look at the wing and the side of the plane. Tell me if you see anything that looks like damage or leaking.”
Terrance pressed his face against the window. “Nothing off on this side.”
Clare flicked a switch and then twisted in her seat to do the same visual inspection on her side of the craft. “Okay, I can’t see anything on the portside. Good.”
Russ glanced toward Knox. She was pale and damp, but so far hadn’t tossed her cookies.
They flew in silence for another ten minutes before Russ could see Long Lake stretching out beneath them.
The plane slowly curved to line up with the narrow southern end of the lake, the tilt barely discernible in the cabin.
Clare flew well to the south, so their descent was gradual.
The float plane touched down on the water with a few bumps, but Russ had had far rougher landings in large commercial jets.
At the pier, Terrance leapt out and secured the lines before opening the door on Knox’s side. She staggered down, letting the ranger catch her and help her up the pier. Russ eased himself out after her and waited for Clare to finish in the cockpit.
She wiggled out over the passenger seat and jumped onto the pier.
Russ held out his arms and she went to him.
As soon as he folded her tight against him, she began to shake violently.
The cold air streaming off the lake felt like a blessing, and he held her hard, pressing his cheek against her hair, murmuring nothing words that meant, Holding on. Not letting go.
Eventually, she stilled and pressed her hand to his chest. He released her. “Thanks.” She smiled crookedly. “I haven’t had a combat flashback in a long while.” She wiped her wet face. “’Course, I haven’t had anyone firing at my aircraft since Iraq.”
Russ nodded. “Being in the middle of a war tends to do that to people. You think you’ve put it all behind you, but the right trigger…”
“And you’re back there all over again.” She breathed deeply. “I need to inspect the plane. Then I’m going to call Mother and Daddy and see if they’re okay with me staying overnight. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Oh, no.” He threw his hand against his forehead dramatically. “A night alone with my wife in a remote inn with no baby. What shall I do?”
She laughed, which was what he was shooting for. “Go on, get me another coffee. I’ll meet you at the truck, and we can all discuss what we found when we’re back at your inn.”