First Night of Summer (22 page)

Finally, the third object sat before him, Isaac’s aircraft. Ricky couldn’t resist and he grabbed a can of red paint. The little jab felt too good to pass up. He shook it and painted red Xs on the windows and windshield. Along the fuselage, he simply wrote “Suck It.”

Once finished, he hunkered beside Isaac’s Cessna and made sure all the paint cans were stowed with lids on. He had achieved the look he wanted. Now he needed to put the final, much more drastic touches to the job.

In the side pocket, he gripped the handle of an ice pick. “It’s all for you, my Josephine,” he said aloud and gouged the sharp spike into a tire.

He didn’t stop there. Ricky shuffled to the front and punctured another. The third tire joined a chorus of hisses when he extracted the thin metal shaft from rubber. They deflated and went flat against the ground. He hunched under the wing and rammed the pick upward. Fuel dribbled from the tiny hole in the aluminum veneer as he yanked it out. Twice more, he stabbed until the overhead tank let loose a steady bleed.

He worked backwards and did the same to the kit plane. Its tires went flat, and its tanks emptied to the destruction of the pick. The first plane in the lineup also succumbed. As he stood back and studied his handiwork, Ricky sneered and nodded in approval. The smell of fuel burned heavily in his nose as he turned and ran away.

The illusion was set. The spectacle was planned. He had never fancied himself a magician, but tomorrow he would make Josie disappear.

Chapter Forty-Eight

A
t seven forty-five in the morning, Isaac rolled out of bed. He arched his back and looked at the shade-covered window where early rays of light filtered through the fabric. In fifteen minutes, Sarah would begin her third and final day of the cancer walk in Albuquerque. The thought of seeing her brightened his morning.

In the bathroom, he reached in the shower and turned on the hot water. When steam coated the glass door, he stripped off his boxers and stepped in. Both hands flat against the tile wall, he ducked beneath the spout. Warm water soaked his thick, black hair, cascaded over his broad shoulders, and coursed down his tan back. He bathed in the warmth, letting it invigorate his senses.

After drying off, he tucked a towel around his waist. A sharp razor knocked twenty-four hours worth of dense, dark stubble off his face. He dressed in olive cargo pants, a V-neck T-shirt, and lightweight hiking boots.

In the kitchen, he found Tom and Helen with piping mugs of coffee in the breakfast nook.

“Good morning,” Helen greeted him.

“Good morning, Mom.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.” He took a mug from the cabinet. “I didn’t want to get up.”

“I know.” Helen had a far-off, thoughtful look in her eyes. “I feel the same way when we go on vacation. On the last morning, I always think, if I don’t get up, it won’t be over.”

Isaac took a sip of his coffee. He slurped because it was too hot. “Something like that.”

Tom said, “Why don’t you fly down and get Sarah? Bring her back here and stay another day or two.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But she’ll be tired. Josie starts school this week, and I have work.”

“Sixty miles in three days,” Helen shook her head. “I don’t blame her. You know, I should do one with her sometime, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Isaac looked into his cup as if the ink-black liquid might hold all the answers. “I think going alone forces her to get involved and share her story with others. She’s met some really great people over the years. The most amazing thing is that, no matter what day it is, how far anyone has walked, how many blisters they’ve rubbed, or how sore their muscles are, she has never heard one person complain. They are either tough enough to go on or hurt bad enough to stop. When you’ve seen someone die of cancer, I guess it puts your own discomfort into perspective.”

Tom tapped his finger on the kitchen table. “It affects way too many. It’s scary to think of really. I’ve known a lot of people who’ve died over the years …” He looked to Helen for confirmation. “And I’d say cancer was responsible for half or more.”

She nodded in agreement. “We’re not exactly spring chickens.”

Tom had a smart comment halfway out of his mouth in reply to her age observation when the telephone rang. He answered it, “Hello.” He listened in silence, a crease slowly forming between his eyebrows. “Yes, he is. Hold on, please.” He pulled the handset away from his ear and handed it toward Isaac. “It’s for you. Some doctor in Albuquerque.”

Isaac made a puzzled expression and took the cordless set without a word. “This is Isaac,” he spoke into the phone.

“Mr. Snow, my name is Dr. Ellison. I’m an ER doctor at Saint Mary’s Hospital in Albuquerque,” a professional voice on the other end informed. “Am I speaking with Isaac Snow, husband of Sarah Snow?”

The world froze. He did not like the way this sounded. “Yes, Sarah is my wife. May I ask what this is in regards to?”

“Mr. Snow, are you where I can speak with you for a moment?”

Isaac’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He was scared.
Why is a doctor calling? Did she injure herself during the walk? If she did, why isn’t she the one calling?
None of the questions gave him clarity.

“Yes,” he said back. “I can speak now.” His voice sounded slightly irritated.

“Mr. Snow, are you driving a vehicle or operating a piece of machinery?”

Isaac wanted an explanation, not questions.
I’m fine, dammit. Now tell me what the hell is going on
. He assumed whatever the doctor was about to say was bad news, and now he started to fear the worst. Something had happened to Sarah. He wished the doctor would just come out with it.
To hell with safety protocol
. He looked at his parents, and they both wore concerned faces.

“Doctor, I’m sitting down. Please get to the point,” he added with force.

Dr. Ellison’s voice came back. “Your wife has been in an accident.”

He waited for more.
What kind of accident?

“We’re doing everything we can. She is alive but unconscious. We don’t know the extent of the damage yet. The ER staff is assessing her now.”

Isaac went as pale as milk. The lack of blood in his upper body almost caused him to drop the phone. He hung on but said nothing.

“Mr. Snow? Mr. Snow, are you still there?”

“I’m here.” He had so much he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know where to begin. The doctor’s words, “She is alive,” replayed in his mind. The “alive” part threw him for a loop. Panic was not in Isaac’s nature, only a desire to comprehend.

“What happened, and how bad is she?” He needed to know what they were looking at.
Possible death? Brain damage? Paralysis? What type, if any, of recovery could she have?

“Mr. Snow, I’m afraid I don’t know. I’m sorry, but she’s only been in approximately fifteen minutes.”

Isaac looked at the clock.
Eight thirty. It couldn’t have happened long ago
.

“A car hit her hard on the right side of her body. She may have several broken or fractured bones. Nothing is visually out of place, but the X-rays could say different. We are also doing a CT scan to check for head trauma. I called to inform you as quickly as I could.”

Spinning out of control, Isaac’s head felt like it might implode and explode at the same time. The unfairness of life was not in his thoughts at this point. He didn’t ask the question, “Why?” to himself or God. He could only think of what needed done.

“Can you tell me anything else, doctor?”

Tom and Helen were right beside him. He stepped away for space to think. Everything closed in.

“I would recommend you get here ASAP. Until we’ve evaluated her further, we won’t know how to help her. The need could arise for decisions pertaining to her treatment. As of now, our primary concern is the possibility of internal hemorrhaging, trauma to her head, or possible comatose. I just can’t say at this point, but it would be best if you were here.”

“I’m currently in Taos, but I’ll head there right now. Please, do everything you can and keep me informed. We have health insurance. She’s covered. I’ll pay for anything.”

Isaac conveniently left out the part about piloting his own plane. The doctor would vehemently object and he knew it.
It isn’t the doc’s problem though. It’s mine
. If he didn’t reach Sarah in time, he would never forgive himself.
Please, God, not her, too
.

“Does your wife have any medical history that might affect her treatment? She was in the Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure when she was hit. Is she a cancer survivor?”

“No, no. Her mother died of cancer. She’s never had any serious medical problems. No medications or allergies.” He envisioned Sarah when they had dropped her off in Albuquerque, beautiful, vibrant, excited, and full of life. “She’s healthy. Very, very healthy.”

He hoped that was still true. His angel, mother of his children, lover, and forever partner was in the fight for her life. Could he live without her? Did he even want to? Never before, even with Caroline broken and bloody in his arms, had he been so aware of the physical pain emotional distress caused.
Hang on for me. For us. Don’t leave me. Please, God, don’t let her leave me
.

“Thank you, Mr. Snow. Be careful getting here. When you arrive, tell the ER desk who you are and that Dr. Ellison wishes to speak with you immediately. I’ll leave instructions.”

“Thank you.” Isaac heard himself think it, but he didn’t know if it actually came out.

The line went dead.

Chapter Forty-Nine

A
long, thin finger ran across a paper map to occupy Ricky’s mind. When everything went down, it was imperative he knew exactly how to get back to the cabin in relationship to his location. All the proper coordinates were plugged into his GPS, but he had seen too many electronics malfunction over the years. He was in the technology business and understood that nothing compared to a piece of paper for reliability. His finger retraced the route, point by point.

He waited. The next hour of his life had no room for mistakes. It was an all-in gamble. All he had to do was follow along and, at the appropriate juncture, play his part. He fidgeted at the thought. Once the final domino tipped, there was no turning back. His escape would be more intense than any he had ever experienced.

The roar of a racing engine thundered through his open window. He was positioned well off the highway in the shade of a tree grove along the airport road. The entrance was in full view. Tom’s grey truck rocketed toward him and shot past the roadside rest area like a bullet.

My, my … In a hurry, are we?

Isaac drove. Ricky could see both his hands on the steering wheel through the binoculars. Helen sat in the passenger seat with Josie in the back. Helen’s presence came as no mystery. Someone had to drive home after dropping them off. But that was about to change.

Isaac’s next move was the important one. Ricky had no doubts about the soon-to-come scene on the tarmac. Isaac would go absolutely bat-shit crazy when he found his destroyed plane. And when he did, his choice of action would release the pendulum. Ricky had a pretty good theory what would happen, but there were no guarantees.

Chapter Fifty

T
hey banked into a hard left curve, and the force pushed Helen against the passenger door.

“Careful,” she said.

“I got it, Mom.” Isaac’s tone left little to be deciphered. He was in no mood to accept driving comments.

After the phone call from the hospital, Helen and Tom had both tried to talk him out of flying. Instead, they offered to drive him and Josie to Albuquerque. But their words fell upon deaf ears. He had already made up his mind and would not deviate.

Once they accepted his decision, Helen tried to convince him to let Josie stay behind. She argued that they would only take a half hour to be on the road. By the time Isaac got to the airfield, flew to Albuquerque, and hailed a cab to the hospital, it would take a solid two to three hours. They would all arrive around the same time anyway.

Again, Isaac declined and explained that he was not going to let her out of his sight. If it came down to Sarah only having a few hours left to live, he wanted Josie there to say good-bye to her mother. The trouble of flying might only save him ten minutes. But it was ten minutes he wasn’t willing to give up.

Helen reluctantly conceded, realizing she truly had no say in the matter. The only way for her to help was to put her own reservations aside and go with them. Josie needed looked after while Isaac conferred with the doctors and attended to Sarah. If a difficult decision had to be made, for better or worse, she knew her son might need support. Isaac agreed but afforded her no time to pack.

The final arrangement ended with Isaac, Josie, and Helen leaving immediately and flying to Albuquerque. Tom would stay, pack for himself and Helen, bring all the luggage, and drive down in their SUV.

Five minutes after bolting out of the driveway, Isaac brought the pickup to a screeching halt in front of the FBO (fixed-base operator) office at the airfield. They all piled out. Helen and Josie were to get into the airplane, strap in, and wait while he ran over the checklist. He walked toward the Cessna, wrist deep in his flight bag, when Helen broke his concentration.

“Is something wrong with your plane?” she asked with evident concern. She held Josie’s hand, and they both stood motionless.

He looked up. It only took a second to see and smell that something was definitely amiss. He noticed the stench of aviation gas before the new paint job. Fuel had pooled underneath the bird. Wet asphalt shimmered in the morning glow. Fumes rose in the warming air and drifted to their noses.

Isaac narrowed his eyes and studied the scene. He found the flat tires and, finally, the crimson red spray paint that molested the otherwise white airplane.

“Does that say …” Helen couldn’t believe her eyes.

“What does ‘Suck It’ mean?” Josie peered up at her, a curiously innocent expression on her face.