Page 39 of Identity Unknown
I’d rather not look at the bag at my feet while belted in my seat, listening to nothing over the intercom with only gray out the windows as if reality is offline. Any minute life will return to normal, rebooted or patched like faulty software. Maybe I’m dreaming or in a different dimension. I’ll come to and Sal won’t be in a body bag. I’m rocked by another powerful wave of emotion as I look down at him in turbulence that’s unnerving.
I can’t hear the thunder with my headset on. But lightning shimmers in clouds, and I have no idea how high off the ground we are. I close my eyes, leaving my hand on Marino’s wrist until the winds retreat, the air smoother, more like skiing blue runs than black diamond moguls. I feel his thick muscles beneath my fingers, his sun-damaged skin clammy, his pulse rapid like a bird.
He can’t hide his fear from me, and I keep my hand where it is until the overcast is brighter and the rain has stopped. Then I move away, digging out my cell phone and turning iton, the signal full as we retreat farther from the heart of the Quiet Zone. I begin to click through messages. Shannon has sent a weather report that shows tornadoes touching down in the Monterey area accompanied by power outages and severe damage.
She’sworried sickabout us, and I write back assuring her that we’re safely away from the worst of it. I’ll give her more information when able. She answers by sending me a link toa most unfortunate and irresponsibleTV interview that isall over the internet.I glance at the accompanying transcript, and Ryder Briley has gone public with his allegations about mycorrupt officebeingin bedwith the police and the governor.
Dana Diletti interviewed him this afternoon at his sprawling stone and timber home. He described Fabian asmenacing,referring to me asheartless and conniving.When the Brileys appeared at my office this morning, supposedly I refused to answer their questions. I wouldn’t take their calls or so much as let them into my parking lot. I won’t release Luna’s body or explain what I’mdoing to it.
… He and the mother were in their child’s bedroom crying crocodile tears on TV,Shannon writes.Thought I might gag.
She says that Dana Diletti’s people continue trying to reach me.They want to know why you’re pending the manner of death. If it’s an obvious accident, why aren’t you calling it that?
I think about who knows that I’ve pended the case. Fabian, Wyatt, others at my office are aware. I mentioned it to Jesse Spanks inside the vehicle bay as Marino and I were on our way to the airport. But I have a feeling the information came from Blaise Fruge. It would make sense for the media to reach outto her. I ask Shannon what she thinks Dana Diletti’s producers are digging for.
It seems they’re releasing a news story about their investigation into Luna Briley’s “questionable” death. Was it really “accidental”?
Shannon suspects that the show ran a favorable piece earlier to gain access to Ryder Briley. All the while Dana Diletti was filming and acting empathetic, she was waiting to do a number on him. I wouldn’t be surprised. That sounds about right.
I look at Marino as the first rays of light break through clouds, touching his face. I notice the lines that show he scowls a lot, his strong stubbly jaw bulkier than when he was young. The scars on his nose and the top of his shaved head are from recent skin cancer surgeries. Ignoring my warnings about the sun, he’s as tan as summer and it’s only the middle of April.
When he finally opens his eyes, it’s getting close to half past five, the sun a bright smudge on the dimming horizon. I hand him his headset, and he puts it on.
“That was fun,” he says sarcastically, still unnerved—he can’t fool me. “Are we alive?” Acting like he wasn’t terrified.
“It appears we’re through the worst of it.” I stare out at churning gray clouds, glints of blue shining through.
I’m aware that Lucy can see us on camera. She knows that Marino has his eyes open and headset on. Yet neither she nor Tron are checking on us or offering an update. They must have their hands full in the cockpit. Or maybe they don’t want questions about where they’re taking us and when we might get there.
“How are you feeling?” I watch Marino sitting tensely.
“You mean after being shaken like a fucking margarita?”
“It was pretty awful, maybe the worst I’ve experienced,” I admit. “I had moments when I wondered if this was it.”
“Don’t say that when we’re not on the ground yet.” He stares out at nothing but grayness again. “Did I mention how tired I am of Lucy and her damn death wish?”
“I’m sure she did what she believed was safest.”
“I’d hate to see what she thinks is risky.”
“Would you rather stay put like a sitting duck, waiting for a tornado to lift us out of Oz?” I realize what I’m saying as I hear myself. “Shannon reports that several have touched down in the Monterey area. Apparently, there’s a lot of damage.”
As I’m saying this, the big cat and his bright white eyes appear in my mind, and I hope he’s safely out of the weather. I continue wondering how he ended up inside the theme park, and if animal control officers have been able to look for him yet.
“You really thought we were going to die?” Marino is serious.
“It was crossing my mind.”
“I guess we won’t now. I was hoping that if it had to happen, it would be quick. I’d rather not see it coming. And I said to myself, after all the doc and me have been through? At least we’re together in the end.” He nudges closer to my boundaries, and I wish he wouldn’t.
“Hopefully we’ll be landing soon,” I comment as sunlight intermittently shines through clouds, the rotor blades thudding monotonously. “But landing where is the question.”
“I was sitting there thinking what I’d say if it was all about to end.” He puts on his Ray-Bans. “I thought about sending a text to Dorothy. I don’t know why I couldn’t make myself do it.”
“If you don’t send the note, then maybe the bad thing won’t happen.”
“Did you think of sending a note to anyone?”