Where There's Smoke (51 page)

Some claimed they barely escaped with their lives, and I believe them."

"That's why I don't want to fly over the place, much less land, get out, and walk around," Key said.

"If anyone can get an airplane in and out of there, it's you.
 
Clark constantly bragged about your flying skills.
 
He told me how you've flown into impossible situations to deliver supplies or make rescue attempts, and that you thrive on taking risks the more dangerous the circumstances, the better."
 
She paused for breath.
 
"Supposing you agreed to do it, could you get an airplane?"

"That's a broad supposition."

"Go with it for the sake of discussion.
 
Could you get a plane?"

He thought it over for a minute.
 
"I know a guy who once asked me to crash a plane for him so he could collect the insurance.
 
He was that badly in debt.
 
He offered to give me thirty percent of his take.
 
If I lived."

"Can you do that?
 
Deliberately crash a plane and live?"

"If you do it right," he said with a fleeting grin.
 
"His offer was tempting.
 
Hell of a chunk of cash.
 
But it wasn't worth the risk."

"Is he still in financial straits?"

"Last I heard."

"Does he still have the airplane?"

"Last I heard."

"So he might be agreeable to your flying it into a potentially dangerous situation.
 
1f it never came back, he could collect his insurance money and keep one hundred percent of it.
 
If we did make it back, he'd have the money we paid him to use the plane.
 
How much would he charge to lease it?"

"It's a sweet plane.
 
Cessna 310.
 
Not that old.
 
Taking into consideration the distance .
 
. . say twenty thousand."

"Twenty thousand," she repeated softly.
 
"That much?"

"Ballpark.
 
In addition to my fee."

"Your fee?"

"If my ass is going to be target practice for a guerrilla with an automatic rifle, you're damn right there's a fee."

By the expression on his face, she knew she wouldn't be able to afford him.
 
"How much, Key?"

"One hundred grand."
 
At her shocked expression, he added, "Payable the day before we leave."

"That would be almost every cent I've got."

He shrugged.
 
"Tough luck.
 
Guess we won't have to get shots after all.

I'm glad.
 
Hate needles."

Once again he tried to go past her.
 
This time she blocked his path and placed her hands on his arms.
 
"I really hate that.
 
I think you know how much I hate it or you wouldn't do it."

"Do what?"

"Act cavalier.
 
Talk down to me.
 
Damn you!
 
I won't let you joke about this.
 
You know how important it is to me.

Using her restraining hands to his advantage, he moved forward until he'd backed her into an army-surplus file cabinet.
 
"Just how important is it to you?"

"Extremely.
 
Otherwise do you think I would have asked a Tackett any Tackett-for a favor?"

The pressure of his body against hers was exciting.
 
So were his smoldering eyes.
 
But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
 
She kept her chin defiantly high, her gaze steady.

"You could even go so far as to say that I'm your last resort, couldn't you, Lara?"

"You're the reason I came to Eden Pass."
 
The statement took him aback, as she had guessed it would.
 
"Clark handed me a golden opportunity to reestablish a medical practice, but I would have turned it down if not for you.
 
I wanted to meet his daredevil brother, the one who could fly anytime, anywhere,' to quote you.

"I knew you were away most of the time, but I also knew you'd return sooner or later.
 
I resolved to get you to take me to Montesangre, one way or another.
 
In a very real sense, yes, you're my last resort."

He had listened with rapt attention, obviously stunned by her admission.
 
He recovered quickly.
 
A slow grin spread across his mouth.

"So I can name my price, right?"

"You already have.
 
One hundred thousand dollars."

He reached and idly stroked her cheek.
 
"Which I'd be willing to waive in exchange for fucking you."

Her hand flew up to bat his away from her face, but instead she gripped his wrist, closing her fingers tightly around it as far as they would reach.
 
"I should have known you would turn this into something ugly.

I tried to appeal to your decency, but you have none.

You feel no sense of responsibility to anyone except yourself."

"Now you're catching on, Doc," he whispered.
 
"You can't imagine how liberating it is to be completely free from obligation."

"Free from obligation?
 
Your brother is partially responsible for Ashley's death.
 
Out of all us sinners, my daughter was the only blameless victim of the whole mess.
 
I hold Clark accountable.
 
just as I hold myself responsible."

She dropped her hand from his wrist.
 
"Where Ashley's concerned I have no pride.
 
I won't ever see her turn a cartwheel, or hear her run scales on a piano, or kiss her skinned knees, or listen to her bedtime prayers.
 
I want only what I can have, and that's to see her buried in American soil.
 
If sleeping with you is the only way I can accomplish that, then it's a small price to pay."

The passionate glow in his eyes cooled to a cynical frostiness.
 
He backed away, but in slow degrees, so that it seemed to take forever before they were no longer touching.

"As you said, Doc, I have no sense of decency.
 
I'd help an old lady across the street if a Mack truck were bearing down on her, but that's about as noble as I get.
 
I'm not my brother in any way, shape, or form.
 
I left all the good deeds to him.
 
Curious as I am to know what made your snatch so irresistible to him, I'll pass."

As he moved through the door, he called over his shoulder, "Lock up on your way out, will ya?"

"You're late."

"I know."

"We didn't hold supper."

"I'm not hungry anyway.

Key and Jody exchanged words like gunfire.
 
He went straight to the sideboard and poured himself a stiff drink.

"We're having black-eyed peas and ham, Key," janellen said.

"You love black-eyed peas.
 
Please sit down and let me fill you a plate."

"I'll sit down, but I don't feel like eating."

He'd been in a rotten mood since Lara Mallory had asked him to help her retrieve the remains of a little girl, who was probably his own flesh and blood, from Montesangre.
 
Could Clark's guilty conscience have driven him to take his own life?
 
Key had previously denied the rumors of suicide.
 
They no longer seemed so faffetched.

He brought the liquor decanter to the table with him.
 
Defying Jody's critical glare, he poured himself another drink.
 
"How was your day, Jody?
 
Feeling better?"

"There's nothing wrong with me.
 
Never was.
 
I got short-winded and everybody made a big deal of it."

He declined to argue with her at the risk of raising her blood pressure.
 
Since her stroke, he'd walked on eggshells around her, doing whatever was necessary to placate rather than provoke her.

He still thought having a live-in nurse was a good idea, but he hadn't broached the subject again.
 
He'd dodged every verbal missile she'd fired at him, knowing that her rotten disposition stemmed largely from fear.
 
Hell, if he'd had a seizure like the one she'd suffered, he'd be on edge, too.

"How about you, Janellen?
 
Anything exciting happen to you today?"

"No.
 
Business as usual.
 
What did you do today?"

He told them about the rancher from Arkansas.
 
"Anderson paid me well.

It was easy work.
 
Boring as hell, though."

"And to you that's the most important thing, isn't it?"
 
Jody said.

"God forbid you ever get bored."

Raising his glass of whiskey, Key saluted her accuracy.

"Just like your father."
 
Jody sniffed contemptuously.
 
"You're always looking for adventure."

"What's wrong with that?"

"We've got tapioca pudding for dessert, Key.
 
Would you like some?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong with that."
 
Jody ignored Janellen's desperate attempt to avoid a quarrel.
 
"You're a big baby, living in a dream world.
 
Isn't it time you grew up and committed yourself to something worthwhile?"

"He's flying for one of the timber companies, Mama.
 
They're using him to spray the trees for pine beetles.
 
Saving forests is worthwhile."

Jody didn't hear her daughter.
 
She was focused on Key.
 
"Life isn't made up of adventures.
 
It's working at something day in and day out, rain or shine, good times or bad, whether you feel like it or not."

"That doesn't sound like life' to me," he said.
 
"That's my definition of drudgery."

"Life isn't always fun."

"Exactly.
 
That's why you have to look for it.
 
Or make it."

"Like your father did?"

"Yes.
 
Because he couldn't find it at home."
 
By now his temper was at the breaking point.
 
"He searched for it in other places, with other women, in other beds."

Jody came out of her chair like a shot.
 
"I won't have you talking that filth at my dinner table."

Key stood, too, squaring off across from her.
 
"And I won't have you bad-mouthing my father."

"Father?"
 
she said scornfully.
 
"He was no father.
 
He left you for months at a time."

It hurt, that reminder of the countless times he'd watched his father's car disappear around the bend in the road, knowing in his breaking young heart that it would be endless days before he would see him again.

He wanted to hurt her back.
 
"He left to escape you, not us kids."

"Key!"
 
Janellen cut in.

Again, she went unheeded.
 
Now that the well of his resentment had been tapped, he couldn't control the gush of angry words.
 
"You never offered me a kind word or a soft touch.
 
Did you treat Daddy any differently?
 
Did you ever talk to him without making it a goddamn lecture on his faults?
 
Did you ever stop thinking about crude oil long enough to laugh with him, to tease and act silly just for the hell of it?
 
When he was depressed, did you draw him to your breast and comfort him?
 
Not that your bosom would have been comforting, or even yielding.