Broken Wings (18 page)
“Almost,” Addison said, the gravity of their oversight becoming more and more apparent as his heart filled with righteous purpose. “But not quite.”
He put the bolt in a small bag, tagged it, and handed it to Hank. “I want you on the next flight to Washington. You’re going to hand deliver this to headquarters for metallurgical analysis. Tell them I want the works—spectrographic, microscopic, destructive. I want to know everything there is to know about this bolt, and I want it fast.”
“Sure, Addison,” Hank said, eyes dancing. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear.”
“Rush it,” Addison called, as Hank started out of the hangar. “The sooner we know, the sooner we can wrap this up.”
As Hank disappeared from sight, the team erupted into congratulations and laughter. Addison accepted their handshakes and backslaps, but his mind was already on his next step. For the first time since this whole investigation had begun, he might just have some good news for Erin.
A
ddison was at home that night, waiting for Erin to bring over Chinese take-out food, when Hank called with the results.
“You’ll never believe this,” Hank said, his voice solemn but anxious. “Not only were we right about the bolt being the cause of the crash, the metallurgical analysis showed that the bolt was counterfeit. Who knows how many others were in that plane?”
Addison sprang from his chair. “Counterfeit! Are they sure?”
“Positive,” Hank said. “They even took the pieces of the bolt and subjected it to measured stress to see at what point it would break. Addison, it broke at a much lower tensile pressure than it was supposed to.”
“Where did it come from?” Addison asked bitterly.
“We don’t know for sure,” Hank said. “But they think it was probably made outside the States. They said they’ve been seeing more and more of this lately, in all sorts of applications.”
Addison sank back into his chair again. “I’ve heard about it,” he agreed, his voice barely audible as the implications of their discovery filled him with dread. “They’ve turned up in military tanks, ships, even the space shuttle. Apparently they’re made cheaper and somehow get rated at higher stress levels so they’ll sell for more money.” He leaned forward, grounding his elbows in his knees as the truth sank in. “Why didn’t it occur to me before?”
Hank’s response was quick. “Don’t be so tough on yourself. We haven’t seen this in our investigations before. At least we can officially clear the captain.”
“Yeah,” Addison said, pulling himself up again and setting a pace pattern across his rug. “He’s clear. But it’s a lot easier to make recommendations about future training programs to prevent panic than it is to find a solution to this. What do I say? ‘The National Transportation Safety Board recommends that in the future only authentic bolts be used?’ If we can’t tell which ones they are until they break, where does that leave us?”
“You’re right, Addison. There’s no solution yet. But at least now we’re aware of the problem.”
“What good is that if hundreds of people wind up dead?” Addison yelled.
“I’m
the one who had to probe the families and friends like a vulture looking for spicy little clues to what may have snapped in the pilot’s mind, when it was a stupid bolt that snapped! I’m the one who has to see the pain on those people’s faces and carry the guilt and responsibility for my conclusions. And who is really affected by those conclusions? Does it prevent any crashes? No. We have to just sit back and wait for another bolt to snap somewhere at a critical point in an approach. It stinks, Hank!”
“Maybe so, Addison.” Hank’s voice was grim, but he didn’t sound as defeated as his boss. “But it’s our job.” He paused for a moment, then, as if uncomfortable with what he was about to say, went on. “And, speaking of our jobs, Sid is here with me. He wants to talk to you.”
Addison flopped down onto the couch, bracing himself for more rage, more fury. Sid would still be angry and passing orders as if he were some Little League coach and Addison a nine-year-old player. Addison wasn’t in the mood.
“Addison,” Sid said, when the phone had exchanged hands. “You did a good job. I owe you an apology for being so hard-nosed about the delays. I guess your instincts served you well this time.”
“They always do,” Addison said, a dull edge to his voice. “You should know that by now.”
“Yes, well…” Sid cleared his throat, paused a moment, then tackled what was really on his mind. “I want that report tomorrow. You can deliver it in person, and then you’re off to Albuquerque—”
“Albuquerque?” Addison asked. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the crash that happened this morning in Albuquerque. Midair collision of two light engines. Should be pretty cut-and-dried. Can’t blame that on a bolt.”
Addison raked his big fingers through his hair. “Albuquerque,” he repeated miserably. “Cut-and-dried.” He sighed, and racked his brain for a way to keep from leaving Erin so soon. He wasn’t ready. It was too early.
“Right,” Sid said. “There was a survivor, so it’s pretty simple. The pilot’s girlfriend can give you all the information you need. She’s in the hospital, but we can get you permission to question her. I suspect there were drugs involved.”
“You want me to question a woman who just lost her boyfriend and her friends and is hospitalized herself?” Addison asked.
“Of course. It’s the typical scenario.”
“I don’t go by typical scenarios!” Addison shouted. He lowered his voice, expelled a ragged breath, and went on. “Besides, I can’t be there tomorrow. I’ll send my report on with one of the team members. I still have some loose ends to tie up here.”
“Wrong,” Sid told him. “You’ll bring it yourself and then you’ll go on to Albuquerque. This isn’t a request, Addison, it’s an order.”
“But I told you, Sid. I can’t get away—”
“Loose ends can be cut off,” Sid bit out. “Especially when there isn’t room for them. You had your fling, Addison. It’s time to come back to the real world. And in this world, there’s no room for that woman.”
Addison sprang up, as if facing the man in person. “There will be room for her if I make room!”
Sid chuckled mirthlessly, leaving Addison cold. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I can’t keep working with you while you dangle that woman under my nose. You have a choice, Addison. Either her or your job.”
“You can’t force that on me,” Addison shouted. “There’s no rule against an NTSB investigator being involved or even married!”
“I told you before, I don’t need a rule,” Sid warned him, his voice quivering with emotion. “All I have to do is pass along that you’ve become difficult and resistant to the NTSB’s procedures, and you can stand in the unemployment lines. It’s a promise, Addison.”
For a moment, Addison was too amazed to speak. Instead, he stood with his mouth open, trying to gauge the intent behind the bluff.
“Be sensible,” Sid went on, his voice feigning reason. “This is no life for a family. You travel constantly, and when you get where you’re going, you’re totally absorbed in your work. Next time, she won’t be connected with the crash. Next time, she’ll be left out of it, and you won’t be able to spend time with her even under the pretense of work. Take my word for it. There isn’t room in the field for marriage. I’m thinking of her as much as you.”
“Your consideration stuns me,” Addison said caustically.
“I’m right. You know I am.”
“Let me get this straight,” Addison said through his teeth. “I just want to make sure I know where the lines are drawn. You’re telling me that either I get rid of Erin or I lose my job. Is that it?”
“The choice is pretty straightforward,” Sid said smugly. “You can make an impact in this job. You have no idea how many accidents you’ve helped prevent. Even now, you can get on this bolt thing and make sure that something is done to find these counterfeits. When it was
your
wife who died in a crash, you knew how important it was to keep things like that from recurring. Get your thinking back in perspective, Addison. Don’t forget the grief that we both suffered when that tragedy happened. You’ve saved hundreds, maybe thousands, with your recommendations. Your work is too important to throw away on a little infatuation.”
“So that
is
what you’re saying?” he repeated. “That it comes down to an ultimatum?”
“I’m not an ogre,” Sid said, his voice full of emotion. “You’re like a son to me. You’re all I’ve got. I just want to see you do the right thing. If you turn your back on this job, then Amanda’s death was useless, wasted. Through working in the field you’ve had the chance to make some sense of it all, to use that in a positive way. Don’t bury that in a lot of useless emotions. Use your head, man. You need this job as much as we need you. You can no more walk away from it than I can.”
“I can go over your head,” Addison threatened. “You can’t do this.”
“Go over my head, then,” Sid said quietly. “And if you’re right, and my word doesn’t pack the weight it used to, then I’ll go. There won’t be room here for both of us.”
The phone went dead in Addison’s hand, leaving him staring at the receiver, defeated, as if it were an explosive about to destroy his life.
He hung up the phone and paced frantically across the carpet. How could it come down to this? His job or Erin? Sid knew his job had been his whole life since Amanda had died. Addison
was
his job, just as Sid was. Sure, there was a possibility that his superiors would veto Sid’s ultimatum, but if Sid quit the NTSB, where would that leave him? Would he take refuge in a dark house again, hiding out from the world because there was no one else to care? If Addison allowed that, wasn’t that in itself a betrayal to Amanda?
Besides, Sid wasn’t crazy. At least not in his normal work affairs. It was just when it came to his daughter…to Addison…to the prospect of another woman taking Amanda’s place in Addison’s life.
No, the choice was up to him. Would he leave the NTSB? The prospect sank uncomfortably in Addison’s heart, though a voice somewhere inside asked what good there was in keeping his job, when stupid things like counterfeit bolts caused crashes.
Rage over that particular injustice threatened to choke him again. How could that accident have been prevented? And why had so many people had to suffer and die? His investigation had hurt Jason, Maureen, Erin…
Erin. What was he going to do? Sid’s words came back to him, his warnings about relationships and the nature of his job ringing a little too true. He didn’t want a long-distance relationship. They’d drift apart, learn to hate each other.
But if he didn’t have her, his job would seem empty and lifeless. He’d hate
himself
and Sid and the whole NTSB. And soon he’d wind up seeing the victims and survivors as statistics, fact machines, from whom he could get answers in exchange for nothing.
First things first, he told his frantic mind. He’d tackle one problem at a time. First, he had to deal with Maureen and Jason. He went to the phone, punched out Erin’s number, and felt his anger and confusion subside a little at the sound of her voice. Was there really a choice, after all? “Hi, babe,” he said, forcing his voice to sound lighter than he felt.
“Hi. I was just on my way out the door.”
“Look, about the Chinese food.” He stalled, trying to decide how much to tell her now. “I’m not really hungry. I was thinking, maybe we could eat later.”
“You don’t want me to come?” she asked. The disappointment in her voice made him smile.
“No, I still want you to come,” he assured her. “I…I was just thinking. Why don’t you run by the Hammon’s house and get Maureen and Jason to follow you? Something came up today, and I need to talk to all three of you.”
There was a long silence between them. Finally, Erin spoke, a note of dread in her voice. “I’ll bring them,” she said.
Addison knew she waited for him to tell her if the news was good or bad, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure which it was. “I’ll be out on the bayou behind the condos,” he added quietly. “I need some air.”
It wasn’t difficult to sense the despair in Erin’s voice. “All right, Addison,” she said. “We’ll see you soon.”
T
he night breeze was pleasantly cool and playful, and Addison enjoyed it after the heat of the hangar. He looked out over the water behind his apartment complex. He found a rock, kicked it into the water, and gazed out over the dusk-darkened bayou. Banishing thoughts of his ludi-crous choice from his mind, he concentrated on telling Maureen and Jason the results of his investigation.
What would he say to them? How did he apologize for overlooking a malfunction in the airplane and laying the blame for all those deaths on the man who was father, husband, friend? How did he explain the senseless use of a cheap bolt?
It had all seemed so simple when he’d transferred to field work for the NTSB. He’d had a purpose. He had really believed his investigations and subsequent recommendations had prevented countless crashes. But had they really? Or had he just been deluding himself, because of his wife, into thinking he had an effect on other lives?
And if, rather than Erin, he chose the job, where would he go from there? Albuquerque? Would it be any different there? Deaths and destruction? Few, if any, living witnesses? Grieving family members or friends who tried to keep him from reporting anything negative about their loved ones? Thousands of shattered and burnt pieces of wreckage that he and his crew were supposed to assess inside and out? And from there he’d go to yet another state, another crash, another set of lives that would never be the same.
Even if he could make himself go over Sid’s head, find a way to have both Erin and the job, what would it do to Erin, to be in love with a man who confronted disaster on a daily basis? Already, he’d had a sample of how things could be. In the wake of almost every moment of joy between them came rage and fighting, then days of anger before the cycle started again. The rage was always due to his job. Yes, he realized that this job had been different, because it had focused on someone she loved. But the nature of all of his cases were the same. They were all accidents. There were often deaths. And there was usually someone at blame. Would she come to resent him the more she saw what his job entailed? And what about the constant separations, the profound distractions, the intense work on each and every case?
He heard his name called behind him, and he turned back to the apartments and saw Erin walking toward him, followed by Maureen, who folded her arms defensively across her stomach, as if to say, “Don’t hurt me any more; I’ve had enough.” Jason followed, hands hidden in his pockets.
He met the trio halfway, got the greetings out of the way, then sat down on the grass skirting the water. Erin sat next to him, facing the pond, in the same way she had on that first day they’d spent together at the lake. Little had changed, he thought. They were still talking about Mick.
“I asked Erin to bring you here,” Addison began, a bit too slowly, “because we…that is, my team and I…came to a definite conclusion about the crash today. There’s no more doubt in our minds. We have evidence now that we didn’t have before.”
Jason stood up and took a few steps toward the water, keeping his rigid back to the other three. Maureen’s eyes misted over, but her brave, tired expression didn’t waver. Erin frowned down at the grass, plucking blades with one hand.
“You don’t have to walk away, Jason,” Addison said quietly. “Your dad’s cleared. It was absolutely not his fault.”
Jason swung around, and Erin looked up.
“Then what was it?” Maureen asked, confusion distorting her face. She wore an expression of disbelief, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend that the nightmare had ended.
Addison laid his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. “It was a malfunction on the airplane.”
Erin wasn’t going to let the statement go that easily. “What kind of malfunction, Addison?”
“In the elevator system,” he said. “It wouldn’t engage. Mick thought he was steering the plane, but nothing was engaging.”
“Why?”
Addison looked at Erin, knowing he would have to provide details. But just how much should he tell her? The faces turned attentively toward him, waiting for an answer. “Because the plane had been built with some counterfeit bolts. One of them snapped just as Mick was making his approach.”
Maureen placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
Jason went to his mom’s side, knelt in the grass, and set a hand protectively on her shoulder. His face was weary and drawn when he regarded Addison. “Then…Dad didn’t know what was happening? He never had a chance?”
Addison shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid not, Jason.”
Erin stared at Addison as the implications of the discovery became clear in her pilot’s mind. “How many bolts like that were in the plane? All of them?”
“I don’t know yet,” he said. “I’m going to have them all analyzed and recommend that every plane built by that manufacturer at the same time have spot checks to determine where other counterfeit bolts might be. I’m sure there’ll be a full-scale investigation.”
He turned back to Maureen and Jason, a look of deep regret in his eyes. His voice dropped in pitch, and his tone became intimate, like that of a friend. “I owe you two an apology. I intruded on your privacy, turned your lives upside down, made things pretty bad for you at the worst possible time. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Maureen wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “You did your job, that’s all. If anyone else had been investigating, he probably would have stopped at uncovering the obvious.” Her voice wavered, but she forced a smile and held out her hand. “What we owe you is our gratitude.”
Addison took her hand in both of his own, savoring her authentic thanks. It was odd, because no one associated with a crash had ever thanked him before. After a moment, Jason held out his own hand, the gesture more that of a man than a boy. “Thanks,” he said simply. Addison shook his hand, unable to escape the dreadful feeling that he’d given them both something entirely new to grieve about.
“If you don’t mind, I think Jason and I need to be alone for a while,” Maureen said, her pale face drawn as she came to her feet. She wiped her eyes again and wrapped her arms around her son who seemed so much stronger than she was.
Addison and Erin watched until they were out of sight.
“You can take the tape now,” he almost whispered, setting his eyes on her, memorizing her soft lines and the sculpted perfection of her face. “I promised you could hear it when the investigation was over. It’s in the apartment.”
Erin turned back to him, gauging his mood in the waxing moonlight. “Thank you, Addison.”
He laughed mirthlessly. “For what? For giving them—you—some new injustice to grieve over?”
“No,” she whispered, moving closer to him. “For giving them back their pride and the untarnished memories of Mick that they had before. Anyone else, any other investigator, would have given up the investigation long before you did. They never would have found the truth.”
“I upset them,” he said, gesturing to where the two had gone out of sight. “Did you see how upset they were? And so are you. I can see it, Erin.”
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s a matter of the better of two evils. Neither conclusion alters the fact that Mick crashed, that he’s gone—” Her voice broke off, and the moonlight caught the tears in her eyes. “But the fact that it wasn’t his fault does make a difference. You’ve got to believe that.”
Pulling herself to her knees, she slid her arms around his neck. “I love you, Addison,” she whispered.
He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes, his body shaking with the emotion rising up inside him. After a moment, he whispered, “I never thought I’d hear those words again. And I never thought I’d say them. But I love you, too.”
He kissed her, struggling to keep his volatile emotions from getting out of hand and forcing him into making snap decisions that would change his life. He needed time to think, time to weigh one loss against another. The kiss broke, and she reached up to wipe the mist under his eyes. “I thought it would be over when I discovered the truth,” he said, his voice rasping. “I thought I could file the report and wash my hands of it. But it never ends. It just gets uglier and uglier. Tomorrow morning I have to go back to Washington, come up with recommendations to the FAA for something to be done about those bolts…”
“Tomorrow?” She released his neck and sat back on her heels to face him. “You’re going back to Washington
tomorrow?”
The hurt on her face broke his heart. “It’s headquarters, babe. You knew I’d have to go back. They’re impatient for me to be available for the field again.”
“Addison, we just got started. I don’t want you to go.”
“It’s my job,” he said dismally, repeating the words that had become so distasteful to him over the past few weeks. “I have to go.”
She widened her eyes to keep from breaking into tears. This couldn’t be happening. Not when everything was coming together. Not when she was beginning to feel good again. She sat stiffly, as though a rigid spine could give her courage. “Then…then I’ll come with you. I’ll get a transfer to Washington. Then we could see each other when you’re in town.”
Addison shook his head, the effort deepening his own pain. Sid’s warnings began to take shape, setting their love on shakier ground. “Except that I won’t be there for long,” he said. “As soon as I get back, they’re sending me to Albuquerque, and after that, who knows? It depends on where the next accident happens.”
He saw that Erin tried to smile and not surrender to panic just yet. She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to fly to wherever you are on my days off. I usually have three days off at a time, unless Zarkoff changes that. It would be something.”
“It would be nothing.” Addison stood up, took a few steps away from her, turned back, and studied her as best he could in the growing darkness. She looked so broken, he thought, and he had broken her. Somewhere the hurting had to stop. “I’d be working, having to concentrate on my investigations, probably depressed at the discoveries I was making. You’d be depressed, too, and neglected, and it wouldn’t be fair.”
He ground his teeth and kicked a stone, sent it rolling a few feet away. “Aw, Erin. I want more than a casual relationship whenever we can spare the time. An afternoon here, an evening there. It won’t work. It couldn’t work that way for either of us.”
Erin scrambled to her feet, and he could see the fight rising inside her. “It
does
work, Addison. All the time. It’s the nature of a pilot’s job to be away a lot and to take advantage of the time he has. Lots of pilots I know have adjusted, Addison. We can, too.”
“Pilots
adjust,” Addison said. “They fly off on a trip, come back, and all’s well. But not guys like me. When I go off, I’m buried in wreckage for weeks. I take the recorded voices of victims to bed with me at night. I rack my brain trying to dig through to the truth. In every town there’s a Maureen…a Jason…”
“And an Erin?” she bit out painfully.
“No,” he said quickly. “Not an Erin. But in this town there was, and for a big percentage of the time, she hated me for what I do. You won’t forget all that just because it’s someone else’s life I’m profiling. You’ll still think it’s callous, and we’d wind up fighting and, finally, drifting apart.”
Erin no longer tried to conceal her pain. Tears fell over her bottom lashes. Her lips quivered. “Then…then you’re telling me that it’s over? That there’s no use? That it was fun while it lasted?”
No,
he thought miserably.
It can’t be over. Not like this
. He caught his breath, cleared his throat, and struggled with the truth. She had to know. “Erin, listen to me. I’m just saying that it’s going to be complicated. The truth is that I’ve been given a choice. You or the job. My father-in-law is my boss, and he’s pulling the strings. I have to work some things out, Erin. Some very important things. I need some time to think.”
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, amazed. “It isn’t a choice between me and your job that man wants from you, Addison. It’s a choice between me and your wife, isn’t it?”
“Maybe in his mind, it is,” Addison admitted quietly. “Not in mine, though.”
Erin turned away from him, wiping away her tears.
“Erin,” he whispered. “Don’t turn away.”
“Don’t turn away?” she echoed, flabbergasted. “Me? Tell me one time that you aren’t saying good-bye.”
His expression became clouded as the sky before a storm. “I can’t tell you that,” he whispered. “Not until I’ve reevaluated some things, made some decisions. I feel like my work isn’t finished. It’s too important to leave my job without thinking long and hard about it. I feel tied to it. Please try to understand.”
She stood motionless, desperately trying to absorb the shock, desperately trying to cope. “I understand,” she lied, her voice wobbling. “Of course you have to think. Reevaluate everything…people depend on you…”
“Erin, I don’t want to lose you. There’s got to be an answer. I’ll think of something.”
“I have to go,” she whispered, then turned and hurried back to the parking lot.
Addison didn’t move to go after her as Erin ran through the grass. There would be time for that later, he prayed, when he found some concrete answers, some peace, some resolve. But not now. He had nothing to offer her now, except confusion and more despair.