You’re probably right. It’ll sound better if someone independent can verify the story.” He gave Bob the police
officers’ names.
Josh felt tired and excited at the same time. Tired because he’d walked at least a mile around the first floor of his home and excited because he felt he was finally getting somewhere.
“I’ll tell you something I do know,” Bob said.
“What?”
“Mitchell may have missed you so far, but I guarantee he’ll try again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The noise of the landing twin prop drowned out the minivan’s radio. Josh knew the FAA building was close to Sacramento Executive Airport, but did not know its exact location. He spotted it on the opposite side of the road from the airport and made a U-turn at the light.
Pulling up in the parking lot, the jitters took hold of Josh. He had a plan, but now he wasn’t sure how to play it. How could he convince the FAA the plane crash had been intentional? When he received the initial findings from them, he was just unsatisfied with the report; after seeing Jack Murphy, he was convinced it was not an accident.
According to Jack, the mechanical failures were possible, but unlikely. If the attempts on his life hadn’t occurred, Josh would have brushed Murphy’s comments
off as ludicrous. However, recent events told him it wasn’t that insane to believe his aircraft had been tampered with on purpose. And deep down he really knew
Mark’s death hadn’t been an accident—the same way he had known it was his plane that had crashed with his friend aboard as soon as he heard the newsflash on the radio.
With the knowledge that his aircraft had been intentionally disabled to kill him came guilt. Mark wasn’t
the intended victim. Christ, did he feel like the scum of the earth. He’d been leaving Jack Murphy’s hangar when it hit him and the sour river taste returned to his mouth. His mistakes had killed an innocent person.
Josh didn’t know how he would live with himself, but one way was to get the FAA and the NTSB to look for signs of foul play and nail the bastard who’d done this.
Josh knew James Mitchell was Mark’s killer. Mitchell had forced him off the road into the river and he was at his birthday party. He knew Josh and Mark were flying partners and he knew when and where they
would be flying next. Josh had remembered the details and put it all together once Jack Murphy had made it click for him. All he needed was a look at his airplane to be sure.
The FAA district office in Sacramento looked unassuming for its significance and was nestled uncomfortably amidst a number of drab commercial enterprises,
from mini-storage centers to breakdown recovery services to a smog check center. The office’s jurisdiction stretched out from Sacramento to the Sierras and up to the Oregon State line. Responsible for enforcing FAA rules and regulations from aircraft safety to pilot certification, the officials had the unenviable task of crash
investigations as part of their duties.
The district office was the headquarters for the investigation into the crash of his Cessna. The fatal nature
of the crash caused it to be classified as an
accident and not an incident. The Safety Board called the shots, and they’d assigned an investigator and sent him to Sacramento.
Josh entered the building. The sign at the entrance Said, WARNING—ALL ACTIVITIES ARE RECORDED ON
VIDEOTAPE TO AID IN THE PROSECUTION OF ANY
CRIME COMMITTED AGAINST THIS FACILITY. That message didn’t offer a warm welcome. In the reception for pilot certification, a small middle-aged woman met Josh with a broad smile. Her shoulders barely cleared the L- shaped service counter.
“Hi there. How can I help you?” she asked.
“Yeah. I wanted to speak to Terrance Reid of NTSB,”
Josh said.
“Sure thing. Can I tell him who is calling?” She picked up a phone on her desk and punched in a number.
“Josh Michaels. I’m the owner of the Cessna he’s
investigating.”
She relayed Josh’s request and put the phone down.
“I’ll take you up to him.”
She led Josh along a corridor and up the back stairs of the building to a small office in the corner of the second floor. She knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a reply.
“Josh Michaels,” she said, ushering him into the office before closing the door.
The twelve-by-twelve office had several cardboard storage boxes on the floor and a desk strewn with papers on either side of a laptop computer. Terrance Reid was in his mid-fifties and efficient looking with a bald head edged with a rim of iron gray at the sides and back. A small portly man, the investigator stood up from behind the desk and shook hands with Josh. His welcome was businesslike. He was neither happy nor annoyed to see Josh. Reid offered Josh a chair and he sat down.
“Apologies for the room—I’ve got this while its
owner is on vacation. What can I do for you, Mr.
Michaels?” Reid asked.
“I wanted to speak about the investigation,” Josh said.
“There is little I can tell you at the moment. An initial report is not due for another few days, and the final report will not be due for another month. And that won’t be the end of the matter.”
“I know you’ve spoken to the mechanic.”
Reid nodded.
“You suspect the mechanic was negligent?”
Reid raised a finger and interrupted. “The mechanic may have been negligent, but no accusation has been made. However, initial findings have shown that several components were found unfastened, and the mechanic should have detected these at the time of inspection.
Especially as this was the aircraft’s maiden flight after a major overhaul. But Mr. Michaels, we are a long way off from a decision. Please don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Jack Murphy is convinced you’re going to have him convicted for negligence,” Josh said.
“I assure you that negligence hasn’t been proven, but we do have concerns regarding Mr. Murphy’s conduct.”
“What about foul play?”
Reid looked puzzled. “I’m not sure there is any
grounds for it. What makes you think that?”
“Jack Murphy is a good mechanic and Mark Keegan
is …,” Josh corrected himself, “was a good pilot.”
“However, things can go wrong and obviously did.
There’s nothing to give us grounds to suspect foul play.”
Reid’s response gave Josh an answer and a problem. The NTSB didn’t think foul play was a factor, so how was he going to get them to consider it since Reid had dismissed the notion? He saw no point in explaining himself, as it was likely Reid would react to his claims the same way as the police had. “Can I see the aircraft?”
Josh asked.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“But, it’s my plane,” Josh protested.
“I have to inform you that it’s not.”
“Excuse me?”
“The aircraft became the property of the insurance company once you made the claim. The plane is in the ownership of the NTSB and the FAA until our investigation is over, then we hand it back to them.”
“But I might be able to show you something you
