Chapter 6

Scarlett

I take a step towards him and he seems to recoil from me. “Michael? What happened to you?”

His eyes go wide, and he sucks in a breath. “How did you get here?”

I swallow and back up as he advances. “Dexter and I were looking for you.”

Behind me the phone starts to ring and Michael stalks towards me looking like a hunter after prey.

He grabs my arm and tugs me towards him. “Is he here?” he hisses.

I shake my head and tug against him, eyes flicking back to the phone. “He left to go back to the villa.”

He curses under his breath and yanks me through the door just as I hear footsteps.

I try to get out of his grip, but he wrenches my arm and slaps a hand over my mouth. “Stay quiet. I need to think.”

I whimper as the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

I’m so shocked I found him, I don’t protest when he drags me away from the motel and down a side alley.

In the dark only illuminated by the moonlight, he looks nothing like the affluent beau my sister should have married by now.

He removes his hand, and glances down the empty street. “How long ago did he leave?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. An hour ago, maybe.”

He doesn’t even look at me or bother to answer. So, I wave a hand at him. “What is going on? Chelsea is worried sick. Everyone is out looking for you.”

There’s not an ounce of concern in his voice when he mutters. “He may not have got the plane up yet.”

I nearly hit him for thinking about where Dexter is but my need to slap some sense into him is overridden by my curiosity as to what happened.

His posture is stooped, and he doesn’t seem to be breathing easily. I have no idea if he’s been in a fight or a car accident, or if he fell off one of the rocky cliffs in the area.

I just know he’s hurt, and my little sister is going out of her mind wondering where he is.

“Michael. I don’t know what’s going on. But you need to call Chelsea and let her know you’re here.”

He shakes his head and places a hand to his head. “That fucking pilot. Everything has to be by the book.”

I open my mouth to tell him we need to call Chelsea when he turns on me. “And you. Why are you staying in Chelsea’s shitty little room?”

He looks so furious I back up until I’m against the brick wall. “Michael. You’re scaring me.”

He doesn’t look in the least bit worried he’s freaking me out. Just scowls at me like I’m to blame for whatever has happened to him.

“Michael. Please call Chelsea. Or your dad—”

He cuts me off with a glare. “Don’t you get it? I can’t. Not now.”

I’m still completely clueless as to why he’s injured and why he came to the motel, when he looks at me with such malice alarm bells start to ring in my ears.

“Who knows you’re here?” he asks.

I swallow. “If you’re in some kind of trouble. The police are at the villa. If you let me—”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m not going to let you screw this up for me. Not you, not some flunkie pilot.”

He shoves me against the wall and leans in so I can smell the alcohol lacing his breath. Is he drunk? Is that why he’s acting like this?

“I’m not going to screw anything up,” I say.

His lip curls slightly. “It’s too late for that.”

Whatever Michael has gotten involved in, it’s bad enough he doesn’t want either Chelsea or his father to know.

I wince as I consider my predicament. I barely know Michael and I’m the only person who knows where he is.

If he didn’t want to be found, I don’t even want to think about what that means for me right now.

***

Dexter

Saturday 11.23pm

Inside the interview room at the station, I’m covering yawns and wishing I’d just stayed the hell in Macetown with Scarlett.

I could be doing all kinds of things to her rather than be sitting here, waiting on Vance to get whatever it is he needs.

The cop who read me my rights wasn’t a complete jerk about it. He has a buddy in the Air Force, so for now they’re treating me like a human being and not a criminal.

My toes are tapping in my boots as I look around the room stripped of everything except for a table, recording equipment and a box of tissues.

I can remember the last time I was inside a police station. Twelve years old, mom covered in bruises but insisting she didn’t want to press charges.

She just wanted to get us the hell out of Brooklyn and as far away from dad and his gang affiliations as she could.

As far as I’m concerned, my father may as well be dead. But at least spending way too much in police stations has taught me how to spot a good one.

I may be on the wrong side of this, but Vance doesn’t seem to be doing anything more than his job in what is a high-profile case.

If he has an agenda, if he’s using this as leverage, I’ve not seen anything to confirm I’m a serious contender for Michael’s disappearance.

I still have my cell, and so far I haven’t been arrested, but when Vance strolls back in the airless room with stiff posture and a folder, I know some more shit is about to go down.

He opens the folder and flips my father’s mug shot around so I can see it. “You kept this from the Academy.”

I shrug. “Wouldn’t you have?”

He doesn’t answer me but releases a long sigh. “This is not looking good.”

I sit back in my chair and wonder what he’s trying to achieve. “It’s been a long day. If I’m going to be charged with something, I think I’d like a phone call.”

He leans forward and toys with a pen on my father’s arrest file. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

I work my jaw and fold my arms across my chest. “Six years ago. He stopped by to see if my mom had any money.”

His eyes narrow. “According to a neighbor you nearly killed your father.”

I shrug. “He hired some PI to track us down. It took him six years, but by that stage I was big enough to hit him back. But you already know that.”

He reads the file and recites the multiple convictions. “He’s currently in jail, and not due for parole for another ten years.”

His eyes rise to meet mine as he closes the file. “Let me be straight with you. I don’t give a shit about the Academy’s interest in this.

As a matter of fact, I’m more than a little impressed you managed to pull yourself out of the dirt and make something of yourself. The Academy thinks you’re capable, you passed all the psych evaluations and aside from your libido, you’re just the kind of pilot they want handling a multimillion-dollar plane.”

He drops the pen. “What concerns me is that you are more than a little involved in something that looks a lot like a lot of the scams your father used to pull.”

I open my mouth to protest but he holds up a hand. “I know you’re not stupid enough to risk your career so close to graduation, especially not while you’re already under investigation. And from what I can see, you’re out to prove you’re nothing like your father. Am I right?”

I don’t get a chance to answer before the door opens and another detective comes in, a Latina dressed in a creased suit, looking about as tired as I feel when she sits at the table.

Vance looks sidelong at her. “I’ll let Detective Sanchez take over. It’s her investigation.”

Sanchez clears her throat and looks me dead in the eye. “Scarlett’s father was concerned and called the motel. The owner said she’s not in her room and hasn’t seen her since she checked in with you.”

I’m still trying to process that when she leans a little closer. “The owner says she heard a lot of commotion in the room, possibly screaming not long before you left Ms. Sanders looking like you were in a hurry.”

My battle to stay calm is getting harder as I see how bad this is looking. “I can explain the screaming. And I was in a hurry. Jack called and said you wanted to talk to me ASAP.”

She looks sidelong at Vance and pulls a face. “I hope you can explain the commotion the owner heard, Mr. Conway. Because we just found Michael’s vehicle near Macetown.”

She pauses and my heart starts to crash against my ribcage. I know things are sinking fast when Vance sends me an apologetic look.

Sanchez drops the words slowly, taking her time to hammer the final nail in my coffin.

“Given the amount of blood inside, and the fact that you were the last person seen with both Michael and now Scarlett Sanders, I’m going to need more than an explanation from you.”

Vance nods slowly. “We’re going to need your help to catch him,” he says.

***

Scarlett

Michael’s desperation seems to increase the longer we stay in the alley.

I’m starting to shiver, so I wrap my arms around me and start to pray for something to make him walk away from me.

If it weren’t for the moonlight, I’d be out here with him in the dark.

I’m not about to do anything to make things worse, but right now I’m not sure what Michael’s thinking.

He’s started muttering to himself and looking like he’s capable of hurting me if I provoke him.

Since I can’t spend all night here in the alley and doing nothing might be worse than attempting to get away from him.

He keeps glancing at the street like he expects someone to appear. Using my opportunity, every time he looks away from me, I slowly start to edge away from him. I keep my eyes on him as he seems unable to decide.

I’ve made it halfway back to the street when he snaps his head up and lunges for me.

I know I’m out of time when he grabs my arm. “Come with me.”

I tug back against his grip and decide it’s now or never. I kick him hard and shove with all my force and scream as I sprint as fast I can in my heels.

I can hear him breathing hard as he closes the ground between us. I pump my legs and arms and almost make it back to the motel when I’m tackled around the waist.

My scream is muffled as I hit the pavement, landing in a heap that sends pain shooting through me.

With Michael’s weight pinning me to the ground, I thrash under him, swinging my fists and bucking while he spits obscenities.

I’m making enough noise that someone should have heard by now, but I can’t hear or see anyone nearby.

While I’m desperately trying to get Michael off me, I look around, trying to yell, but Michael’s clamps his hand over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch.”

I don’t quit struggling until he slaps me so hard my ears ring, I’m so shocked he did, I quit fighting long enough for him to get the upper hand.

He yanks me to my feet and grabs my arm again. This time he’s so angry he just grabs the front of my shirt and without warning punches me.

Tears stinging my eyes, he starts to drag me further away from the street, and the safety of the lighting outside the motel.

I’m so stunned, in so much shock laced pain, I barely notice what he’s rambling about.

I do catch one snippet of his angry rant when he reaches the road leading to the airstrip. “You two brought this on yourself,” he mutters.

As indignant as I am at him blaming me, I’m too terrified to do anything more than try to keep up as he pulls me upwards.

My boots slip on the loose dirt, earning me another curse. I’m trembling, a sob caught in my throat as we reach the deserted airstrip.

With no light, I don’t see his fist coming until it’s too late.

I wake, groaning, and unable to move. My heart rate jumps as I peer into the darkness, and squint into the near dark as I try to get my bearings.

With a groan I pull myself to sitting and try to stand. My legs are wobbly as I inhale the stale air around me.

My eyes gravitate towards the only source of light in the darkness, and I take a stumbling step towards what I hope is a way out.

Around me the walls are curving, and along them bracing has been added. I step into a narrow pathway and know I’m in an underground mine.

I take a tentative step forwards hoping Michael has gone, and nearly trip on an old piece of equipment.

Rather than risk falling, and making my situation even worse, I place a hand on the wall and use it to guide my way forward.

Vibrations run through my hand, making me wonder if this is an active mine. I pray it is and carry on taking cautious steps towards the light.

My heart is in my throat, and I’m sure I taste blood in my mouth, but I carry on moving, hoping, somehow, I can find a way out of here and get a message to someone that Michael has gone crazy.

That he’s had a mental breakdown has to be the only explanation for the way he’s acting.

Or maybe he always acts this way? This is the second occasion I’ve met him, so all things considering that means half of the time I’ve spent with him he was either hiding he was a psychopath or this is a new event.

I try to rationalize how this might have happened. A wedding can add stress. And if he was already unstable, maybe this was enough to tip the balance?

No matter which way I look at it, Michael is a bad guy and Chelsea dodged a massive bullet today.

A horrible thought strikes me as I wipe the sweat from my brow. Chelsea escaped a life with a possible manic, but I haven’t.

He could still be down here, playing with me, watching me, and hoping to make a skin suit out of me.

My panic starts to build with every step I take. My hands are now slick with sweat and my hair is sticking to my forehead.

This wedding was never going to be a walk in the park for me. But I never in my wildest nightmares anticipated being stuck in an abandoned mine with a lunatic who wants to do God knows what to me.

If I wasn’t so terrified, and in so much pain, maybe I’d think it was funny.

But when I hear a voice coming from further down the mine, I know this is only going to get worse for me.

The only way I’m getting out of here is if by some miracle, someone comes to rescue me.

Given Dexter said there are dozens of abandoned mines in the area, I can’t hold out for a knight in shining armor.

Just like always, Chelsea picked a lousy man based solely on his financial status, and I’m the one picking up the pieces.

***

Dexter

My head is running a hundred miles an hour as I look from Vance to Sanchez. “Help?”

Vance is the one to reply. “Sanchez has been watching the Burrow’s family for the last year.”

She nods slowly, and reaches for the file she brought in. “Nathan Burrows, Michael’s father is one of the wealthiest men in the Northern Seaboard.

I lean back in my chair and narrow my eyes. “And?”

Sanchez releases a weary sigh. “That makes him one of the most connected people who frequently fly in and out of the area.”

This isn’t what I expected to hear, but that Michael’s family fly to Colorado leaves me even further on edge.

“Why’d they need me then? They must have a regular pilot?”

Vance nods slowly and draws a photo out of his folder. My gut twists into knots as I see the wreckage of what looks like a light aircraft. “This is where the regular pilot wound up. He was on a return flight to pick up Michael in Aspen.”

My stomach clenches as Sanchez nods. “Greg Sommers was found clinging to life. The Federal Aviation Administration revoked his license the minute he was recovered enough to make a statement swearing the fuel gauge was at fault.”

I flinch. But Vance carries on. “Sommers was already under investigation by the FAA, and he was also on the FBI’s watchlist for possible connections to drug runners in Mexico.”

I shake my head. “Why are you telling me?”

Sanchez taps a pen on the file. “Burrows Snr was looking for a replacement pilot who wouldn’t ask too many questions. He needed one who lived in the area, and who’s record wasn’t squeaky clean. You see where we’re going with this?”

I do. I fucking do. “He was looking for a scapegoat. I fit the bill.”

She nods. “With your background and your current situation, you were the perfect pilot for this operation.”

I raise my hands. “What operation? Drugs?”

Vance starts to make notes on the paper in front of him as Sanchez replies. “Unlikely. His family has built their wealth on stock fraud dating back to the origins of Colorado. Their methods have changed over the years, but they are still as slippery as they always have been. What we do know is that his father is still very much a shadow figure in stock market fraud.”

I sit up a little straighter in my chair. I know all about cons and scams. “Pump and Dump?”

Sanchez manages a slight smile. “Among others.”

Vance seems slightly out of the loop, so Sanchez explains to him what I’m referring to.

“It’s a scam as old as the hills. Especially where gold is concerned, and people lose their heads. You start with stock that’s thinly traded that no one has ever heard of.”

Vance nods as she keeps explaining. “A pump and dump is when a fake company acquires a bunch of those stocks and acquire them cheaply – let’s say a penny a share. Now they start the scheme – touting over the Internet, over the phone, newsletters and through the mail.”

She takes a breath. “They’ll talk up the stock, tell investors this is going to be the next big gold discovery or oil field in North America, and tell investors they’ll want to get in on the ground floor.”

Vance looks at me, and since I know all too well what this scam is about, I carry on.

“When investors start buying, and the price rises, the promoters sell. By the time the price drops, the individuals promoting it have got out and sold all their holdings. The poor sap who bought the stock, is left with worthless stock.”

Vance narrows his eyes at me. “Just like the scheme your father got locked up for.”

My cheeks heat and I stay silent.

Sanchez jumps in. “Since we can all agree you aren’t dumb enough to get involved in whatever Michael has got going on, let me be straight. All we know for sure is that the pilot says he confronted Michael and asked for a cut. I don’t have to tell you what happened from that point on.”

I glance at the wreckage and know Michael could have easily hired someone to sabotage the plane, and make it look like pilot error.

I look to Sanchez again. “What about the wedding? Scarlett said it was a rush to arrange it?”

Vance decides to pipe up. “I’ll bet it was. He only met her two months ago. Right after he lost his old pilot.”

I’m still trying to pull this all together, so I ask the obvious question. “And you can’t search the new plane because that will tip Michael off? How?”

Sanchez shrugs. “We’re not sure if he has camera’s inside the plane or the hanger. We still don’t know who is working with him. All we know is Michael seems to be operating separately from his father on this one.”

I cock my head at her. “So, you’re just playing along making Burrows think you’re just looking for his son?”

Vance looks sidelong at Sanchez who sends me a hard look. “The Burrows’ family are ruthless, arrogant, and Michael is a psychopath with no conscience that they have willingly shielded for years.”

I frown. “Shielded? What’s he done?”

Vance releases a sigh. “Too many things to mention. But just know if Scarlett is in the middle of this, and we have reason to believe she is, her life is in danger.”

My heart starts to speed. “Then why aren’t you in Macetown looking for her? Why are you talking to me?”

Heat is rushing around my body as Vance takes his time to answer. “Because sooner or later Michael is going to get in contact with you. And when he does, we need to know exactly where he is before he flees.”

Flees? “You think he needs the plane to leave the area?”

Vance nods and scratches at his chin stubble. “A wedding and a honeymoon in Aspen gave Michael the perfect excuse for you to make multiple stops and pretty much any location he chooses without drawing suspicion.”

I let that sink in for a moment while I try not to think about Scarlett. “If his father is protecting him anyway, why bother to get married now?”

Sanchez sends Vance an approving look. “The pilot is now in WITSEC. Michael’s running out of time.”

My eyebrows rise. “Witness Protection?”

Vance nods while Sanchez leans back in her chair. “If Michael aims to disappear with the money from his latest solo scam, he needs any evidence and possibly witnesses to disappear with him.”

I swallow hard. “Like the last pilot?”

She nods quickly. “Michael wanted a pilot he could manipulate when the time came. His father being old pals with the Wing Commander means Michael has an ace to play just in case you proved to be more difficult than his last pilot.”

My fists clench and unclench. “So, the plane is just an expensive mule? And I’m the poor sap who’ll get the blame if any shit goes down?”

Vance nods. “Looks like that was their plan. As we said, these people are ruthless. You’re talking about a family who has scammed their way over five generations onto the Forbes list. They’ll do anything to hold on to their money. They’re untouchable. But we have a chance to catch Michael and get him to talk.”

My thoughts slide back to Scarlett, whereabouts currently unknown. “And you need me to do what exactly?”

Sanchez smothers a yawn. “Consent to wearing a long-range transmitting device. And when he contacts you, fly back to Macetown and do whatever he tells you to.”

I should have known they’d want me to take the plane back up. “And what about Scarlett?”

When neither replies, I know her welfare isn’t their primary concern, so she’s got to be mine right now.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Is Wing Commander Halberg aware of his pal’s criminal activities?”

Vance shrugs. “If he does, that’s for the FBI to determine. Like I said before. Our concern is catching Michael before he leaves the area and he takes all the evidence with him.”

I release a long sigh and look at Vance. “I think you’re going to need to explain the fuel gauge issue to me again. That part is looking more than a little fuzzy.”