her to back away from what amounted to an act of great courage on her part.
ELEVEN
Warner arrived home later that night wearing the kind of smile that didn’t come from surveying flooded farmland or shaking hands on the campaign trail.
“How’s the flood?” Carolyn asked, needling him.
He flashed an annoyed look. “Leave me alone. Why’d you send me on that wild goose chase, anyway?”
“It was politically necessary, and you know it.”
A look of doubt crossed his face.
“Besides, it was your father’s idea.”
Warner shrugged, as though that bit of information settled the issue.
“I thought you were going to be home this morning,” she said. She expected the lie she received a heartbeat later.
“We got held up. You know how it is.”
She swallowed hard against the pain balling up in her throat. His heart belonged to another woman. Carolyn managed to conceal her hurt and frustration behind a smile.
“I’m heading up to bed.” Warner said.
“I’d like to join you.” The words were out before she could stop them.
“Why do you have to push?” His eyes narrowed and the vein in his temple pulsed.
“I need you, Warner. I need us to be the way we used to be.” She hated the pleading note in her voice. “They have counselors for sexual problems.”
“Sexual problems?” he hissed, stepping closer to her.
She could smell bourbon on his breath, see the teeter in his step.
“You think
She shank back from the heat of his anger. “Well, I-”
He smacked her across the face.
Her head snapped to the side. She grabbed the back of a chair, stopping her fall. Tears flooded her eyes.
“My
Carolyn sank into the chair. She ran her fingers over a small cross concealed beneath her silk blouse, an idiosyncrasy she’d developed as a child in the aftermath of countless beatings. Rubbing the heirloom, she closed her eyes remembering her mother’s smiling face, loving touch, and gentle words.
She touched the welt growing on her cheek. What was becoming of him,of them? Her tears refused to fall.
TWELVE
A small figure huddled in the bar beside the terminal at the Sedalia Memorial Airport. The air was still as the Asian woman watched the keepers of the rural airport shut down for the evening. Once the small staff left, she slipped out to a lone plane parked near the runway.
Clad in dark clothing, she stealthily moved up the left side of the Cessna 210 to the door. She pulled a thin tool from her pocket and picked the lock. Swinging the door open, she leaned into the cockpit, clicked on her flashlight, and verified the plane’s registration taped to the visor, then popped the latch to the cargo hold. With a gloved hand, she tucked a strand of her long black hair behind an ear, then checked her watch. Minutes, she had only minutes before she ran the risk of discovery.
She shut the door, then moved to the cargo hold, pulled out the portable ladder, set it by the wing, and climbed to the top. Reaching the gas tank, she opened the lid, pulled a bag of sugar from her duffel, and then poured the contents into the tank. She stuffed the empty sugar bag back into her duffel and jumped off the ladder before moving to the second wing and repeating the exercise. Her task complete, she neatly folded the ladder back up, set it inside the cargo hold, and locked the door.
With speed and grace, she stepped to the right wing. Blandishing a number two Phillips screwdriver, she removed the inspection plate under the wing, exposing an eighteen-gauge galvanized aircraft wire. She pulled out a wire cutter, then squeezing it with both hands, severed the cable controlling the right side flap deployment. She glanced around to assure herself that she was alone before replacing the inspection plate and disappearing into the night.
Ron Spietzei and his family strolled across the tarmac of the Sedalia Memorial Airport. “It’s a beautiful night. Perfect for flying,” Ron said.
“Thank you for the lovely dinner.” Molly reached up and kissed Ron’s cheek.
Ron, his wife Molly, and her parents, Howard and Joanne Moore, walked the remaining distance to their Cessna 210.
“Whose turn is it to fly us home?” Molly asked the others.
“I will.” Howard volunteered.
“Dad, you flew us here!” she pointed out. “Yeah, Howard, it’s my turn.” Ron replied.
“Ronny, you flew last time. It’s Mom’s turn,” Molly said.
“Let Ronny fly the plane home. I’m tired. anyway,” Joanne said.
“It’s settled. I’ll fly,” Ron said. “Molly, sit in back with your mom. Howard, you’re my copilot. I’ll just be a few minutes while I do the pre-flight. You guys get comfortable.” Ron reached for the door to the cabin and opened it for his wife. He paused. “That’s strange. I was sure I locked this door.”
Molly shrugged, then climbed into the backseat of the plane. She and her parents chatted while Ron walked around the plane with his flashlight, giving a cursory check. These outings were regular events. Two or three times a month they’d get together and fly to dinner, weather permitting. All four of them were avid pilots.
After pre-flighting the Cessna and climbing into the left seat, Ron shouted. “Clear.” Then, he started the engines. With three clicks of his mike button, the runway lights illuminated, and he guided the Cessna down the path and into the air.
“Nice roll-off, Ron.” Howard said as they took to the sky and the landing gear retracted.
Ron smiled while enjoying the view.
Twenty minutes later, they were cruising at an altitude of fifty-five-hundred feet and following the river basin that led straight into the Jefferson City Airport.
“We’re starting our descent. We should make the Jeff City Airport in about twelve minutes.” Ron said.
“Good, it’s a school night and we need to get the baby-sitter home early.” As Molly spoke the plane’s engine coughed and sputtered, then resumed its normal hum. “What was that?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” Ron said, eyes darting to the gauges.
“Are we low on gas?” Howard asked.
“We can’t be. I had the tanks filled before we left,” Ron said.
Molly unbuckled her seat belt and leaned forward to look over Ron’s shoulder. They all had been flying for years, but he knew she preferred to be in the pilot’s seat. He often teased her that it was her compulsion for control that made her tense unless she was at the throttle. “It seems fine now. Just relax, honey.”
Molly turned to her mother. “So finish your story about-”
Suddenly the engine quit, and the plane yawed to the left, slicing through the sky and dropping. Ron grasped the yoke firmly with both hands, struggling to bring the nose up and straighten the plane. “Oh shit!”
