What Lies Below, page 13
“Without your say-so.” Willow took a sip of her mimosa and crinkled her nose against the bubbles hopping from the glass. “From what I understand about mineral rights, you can choose to exploit those rights, regardless of the property owner’s wishes.”
“That’s true, but I don’t want to do anything against the property owner’s wishes.” He ran a thumb across her knuckles, reveling in the touch of her skin. His pride had forced him to storm out of her hotel room last night, but other parts of his psyche...and his body...wanted to stay with her all night long.
“What about your father’s wishes? The wishes of Bradford without the Son?” She circled her finger in the air.
“Without the Son, Bradford’s wishes don’t count, especially after the underhanded way he went about the entire deal. Why wouldn’t he tell me I owned those mineral rights?”
He didn’t want to admit to Willow that his father kept him out of the loop on many aspects of their business. His father had brought him in as his partner, but he never treated him like one.
“Do you want my take?” Willow paused to thank the waitress as she delivered the colorful salad and delicious-smelling fish-and-chips.
“Of course...” Heath whipped his napkin into his lap. “...partner.”
“Your father probably wants to buy time to wear you down, to work on you. If you believe he wants to develop the land more than he wants to exploit the nickel beneath it, maybe he planned to make some sort of deal with you—get you to threaten the surface landowner, whoever that turned out to be, with mineral exploitation or sell the land for development. Think about it.”
She drew a knife through a blob of mozzarella and the tomato beneath it and continued, “If Toby still refused to sell, you could wave those mineral rights in his face and tell him if he doesn’t sell, you’ll start mining that nickel. He wouldn’t want the land crisscrossed with excavation equipment, would he?”
“That’s quite a scenario. Why not just tell me that?” Heath stared at his plate, wondering why he’d ordered so much food when his appetite had deserted him.
“C’mon, Heath. Your father has reason to believe Dead Falls Island is special to you. He must understand your hesitance with the idea of developing that property to dovetail with the casino.”
“I guess he does.” He jabbed at the pile of french fries on his plate with his fork. “You’re not going to want half of these again like last night, are you?”
“I did not eat half of those fries last night, and no. I don’t want anything greasy in my stomach for the flight home.” She swirled her drink, causing more bubbles to fizz to the top. “Are you going to call him? Your dad.”
“I’ll try. He’s on vacation in Italy with his new wife, who’s a few years older than me, by the way.”
“Hey, you can’t hold that against the guy. Do you think he’ll talk to you?”
“Depends on what kind of voicemail I leave him. If I come on strong, he’ll put me on Ignore until he returns. But all of this, my ownership of the mineral rights and my father’s knowledge of them, still doesn’t explain why someone is targeting you.”
“I think someone else knows about the nickel vein on Toby’s land, but they don’t know who owns it. Maybe that’s what they were searching for the first time they broke into my place. The intruders searched an old suitcase that held my father’s papers. I don’t know if they found anything there or took anything, but maybe the fire was a way to make sure I didn’t find anything, either.”
“Or the fire was another warning. At least both of those incidents weren’t a direct physical threat against you. You were out both times, but the poor dogs suffered.”
She tossed back the rest of her mimosa. “I guess I should feel grateful that someone’s not trying to kill me...like Toby.” Willow raised a finger to the waitress and ordered another mimosa.
“We don’t know that yet. I’m not sure what’s taking the medical examiner so long to come to a determination. It would help if we knew whether your stalker is capable of murder.” He spread his hands. “I mean, I’d go to greater measures to protect you.”
She raised one eyebrow at him as he felt his face warm. She asked, “Now he’s my stalker?”
“Or she.” Heath sprinkled some vinegar on a piece of fish. “Ellie Keel is not happy with you.”
“Wait until she finds out you own the mineral rights to her uncle’s former property. She’ll go ballistic.”
“Can’t wait for that. She and her brother will probably show up to this meeting with the Samish committee for the casino.” He crunched into his fish.
“When is that? I got the notice but wasn’t planning on attending. Maybe I should.”
“You’re a major player. The meeting is tonight at the Samish reservation. I’m supposed to present my progress with the adjacent land lots—yours and...yours now. We’re opening the floor to dissent.”
“I’m going to be even more well-liked than I already am around here.” She smiled as the waitress delivered her second champagne flute.
“Are you sure that’s the way to deal with your fear of flying?” He tapped the stem of her glass with his finger.
“I don’t have a fear of flying regular commercial jets. Those puddle jumpers make me nervous. Flew one over the Cascades once, and I swear the engine sputtered.” She shivered and took a generous sip of her drink. “Believe me. This will help for the ride back.”
“I think you have more to fear from that meeting.”
“I think you have more to fear from that meeting than I do.” She picked up a piece of basil from her plate with her fingertips and dropped it into her mouth. “Are you going to come out against your own proposal at the meeting?”
“Nope. I’m just going to facilitate. I’m also not going to tell them about the nickel on Toby’s property or the fact that I own the rights.” Heath finished one piece of fish and eyed the other with distaste. He had knots in his stomach, too, but not from fear of flying.
“Oho, so you’re throwing me to the wolves on my own, huh?” She dug her elbows into the table on either side of her plate. “You’re going to point the finger at me as the baddie who won’t sell.”
“Nobody’s going to be pointing any fingers. Everyone will have a chance to make their case. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Most people don’t expect you to be there anyway. It was always Toby’s property that was in play. Nobody ever expected you to sell.”
“Unless I’m dead.” Willow crossed her arms over her midsection. “Jason Hart suggested I make a will—and he wasn’t kidding.”
“If you died intestate, your mother would probably inherit. She’s your closest relative.” Heath tossed his napkin on his plate and finished his beer. “How does she feel about the property?”
Willow’s green eyes sparkled as they widened. “You’ve been thinking about my death? Have it all figured out?”
“I confess. I did work it out in my head, but only for logistical reasons—kind of like Jason did.” He grabbed her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “It might be what we’re dealing with. That’s why I want to keep you in my sights.”
She didn’t pull away, instead curling her fingers around his hand. “To answer your question, my mother hates Dead Falls Island. I’m pretty sure she’d sell that land in a second to fund her vagabond lifestyle. No doubt.”
Squeezing her fingers, he said, “Don’t tell anyone that.”
“Question for you.” She ran her fingertips along the length of his hand, giving him the shivers. “Are you going to continue digging? Do you still think Toby was telling the truth about your mom, or was it his way of messing with your mind?”
“I’ll keep digging. I don’t know what the man was up to, but I can’t give up on my mother.” He pulled out his wallet and snapped a credit card onto the table. “If it’s okay with you.”
“Paying or digging?”
He snorted. “I’m paying for lunch. I meant the digging.”
“As long as you let me help you.”
“Even with people shooting at us?”
“Maybe one of us can be the lookout while the other digs.” She wiggled her fingers at the waitress.
“Another mimosa?”
“I wish.” Willow winked at Heath. “Just the check.”
Before the waitress turned away, Heath handed her his card. “Hopefully, Captain Mark hasn’t spent his time on the island downing mimosas.”
“He didn’t look like the mimosa type.” She wiped her hands on a napkin. “Is it time already?”
“We got what we came for—and then some.” He paid the bill, and he and Willow decided to walk along the harbor on their way back to the airport.
They ran into their pilot coming out of a pizza place, a square box in his hand. He held up the box. “Leftovers. I can’t offer meal service on my Cessna, but you can have it.”
Heath answered, “We just had lunch, thanks.”
“Did you get your business done?” Mark fell in beside them.
“We did.” Heath gave a sharp nod. A slight pounding beat against his temples every time he thought about his father and his deception.
“How often do you make this flight?” Willow tripped over a bump in the sidewalk and grabbed on to Heath’s arm.
“This island? A few times a week. More to the mainland. Private is more expensive than the airlines, but you can schedule at any time.”
When they reached the small airport that consisted of a tower, a low-lying building, a couple of vending machines and the airstrip, Mark waved to some benches outside. “Hang out here for a few minutes. I need to go inside to file my flight plan.”
Five minutes later, Mark emerged from the building pressing a bottle of water against his forehead. “Does it feel hot to you?”
“I’m a little warm.” Heath tugged on his light windbreaker.
Mark performed some preflight checks before ushering them onto the plane again. They snapped in and grabbed their headsets. Mark spoke into the mic, and the plane’s engines whirred to life. It made a slight turn, picked up speed, and soon after the island dropped away beneath them.
Willow closed her eyes, and Heath rested his forehead against the vibrating window to stare into the bay. Both he and Willow would have to make it clear to all interested parties, including his father, that if the Samish casino went ahead, it would do so without the adjoining land for additional facilities. If the Samish could still make that work, more power to them.
The airplane, which had been climbing, seemed to level off, and Heath glanced back at San Juan, still a visible chunk of land in the bay. Maybe the pilot was going to fly at a lower altitude on the way back, because this didn’t seem like cruising.
The wing outside his window dipped to the right, and the plane veered slightly. Were they going back?
Heath tapped his headset. “Mark? Is there a problem?”
Captain Mark didn’t respond, and Heath yanked off the headset. Maybe it wasn’t meant to communicate to the pilot. He cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, “Mark? Mark, are we going back?”
The pilot hadn’t heard him, so Heath leaned into the aisle to get a clear view of the cockpit. As he did so, the nose of the plane dipped. “Mark!”
Mark didn’t turn around or acknowledge him, and the plane had started losing altitude. The sound of the wind outside changed as the craft listed to the right.
Heath scrambled out of his seat, glancing over at Willow, still dozing in a champagne haze. In two long strides, he reached the cockpit and grabbed Mark’s shoulder.
The pilot groaned and slumped to the side. Captain Mark was out cold.
Chapter Thirteen
Willow jerked awake. Had they landed already? She glanced across the aisle at Heath and jolted upright when her gaze met an empty seat. The plane dipped, and she dug her fingernails into the arm of her seat. Where the hell was Heath?
Cocking her head to the side, she checked the aisle, and her heart stopped when she saw Captain Mark on the floor, his legs in the cockpit and his torso extending into the aisle. With shaking hands, she clawed at the seat belt around her lap.
As she stood up, the airplane shuddered, and she yelped, making a grab for the headrest on the seat in front of her. Her knees trembled when she took a few unsteady steps toward the cockpit and the prone body of Mark.
“Willow?” Heath waved his hand in the air from the pilot’s seat in the front. “Sit down and strap in. It’s going to be okay.”
“Okay? The pilot’s dead.”
“Mark’s not dead. He can’t fly, but I can. I have my pilot’s license, and although it’s been a few years, I can handle this craft. I’ll get us down safely. Sit back down and breathe. I’ve already radioed ahead.”
Willow shuffled back to her seat, dipping her head to look out the window. Sky met blue water, with not a speck of dry land in sight. Swallowing hard, she dropped back down and snapped the belt, pulling it securely. She braced her forehead against the seat in front of her and murmured a prayer. She had to trust Heath—again.
She balled her hands into fists and buried them in her lap. Squeezing her eyes closed, she kept Heath’s advice at the forefront, breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. The rhythm calmed her, as did the leveling out of the airplane.
Heath seemed to have gotten the situation under control, and the plane had stopped dipping and swaying. What would’ve happened if Heath didn’t know how to fly? And what was wrong with Mark? He’d come out of the pizza place but didn’t seem as if he’d been drinking.
After what felt like an eternity, the plane started to descend—in a good way. Willow finally lifted her head, hearing voices from the cockpit. That had to be a good sign.
Heath thrust his thumb in the air. “Coming in for a landing, Willow. I got this.”
The plane dropped through the low clouds, turning Willow’s world a misty gray. She licked her lips, ignoring the buzzing in her ears. The force of the descent pushed her back against the seat, and she held her breath as the plane wobbled.
She sneaked a peek out the window. Between the wisps of clouds skittering by, she spied the small runway on Dead Falls Island. A lone ambulance waited on the tarmac, its red light a beacon of safety. Was it there in case they crashed, or was it for Captain Mark?
A few minutes later the plane whooshed, and her stomach dropped. When the wheels touched the ground, she let out a long breath on the tail end of a sob.
When the plane came to a complete halt, she jumped from her seat and made a beeline for the cockpit, where Heath was still flipping switches. She wanted to throw herself in his arms in gratitude and relief, but she dropped to the floor to check Mark’s pulse instead. It beat slowly but steadily beneath her fingertips.
She put her face close to his and sniffed the breath huffing from his parted lips. The only alcohol she smelled was the champagne on her own breath.
Heath peeled himself out of the pilot’s seat and knelt across from her on the other side of Mark. “Is he all right?”
“Sleeping like a baby. I don’t understand.”
He reached for her and cupped her jaw. “Are you all right?”
“I am now, thanks to you. What other hidden talents do you have?”
He quirked his eyebrows. “Stick around and find out, kid.”
The shouting from outside the plane broke the tension between them, and Heath rose to his feet and stepped over Mark’s prone form. He opened the door to a clutch of people, all hovering around the plane.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The pilot, Mark Santos, is on the floor. When I saw what was happening, I eased him out of his seat and laid him flat so I could take his place. I have no idea what happened. He seems to be sleeping. He didn’t cry out, foam at the mouth, clutch his chest. He just fell asleep at the controls.”
Willow joined Heath at the door, gulping in the fresh sea breeze. “And he’s not drunk. Didn’t appear drunk when we boarded, and I just sniffed his breath.”
The EMT closest to the plane gestured for them to step outside. “We’ll take it from here.”
After the ambulance had whisked Mark away, and after a good forty-five minutes of answering questions, Willow finally got her wish. As she and Heath faced each other on the tarmac, he opened his arms to her, and she fell against his chest.
His heart beat strong and steady beneath her cheek. “It gives me the chills to think about what would’ve happened to us if you weren’t a pilot.”
“But I am, so don’t dwell on it. We’re safe. You’re safe.”
She nestled closer into his embrace. “Did the EMTs say anything about Mark? What caused his collapse?”
“Not to me. Just asked a bunch of questions, which I tried to answer the best I could.” He took her by the shoulders and looked down into her face. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that we wound up on a plane with a disabled pilot?”
The dread that had been twisting her gut tightened its grip. “I—I don’t know. Are you saying my stalker has graduated to murder?”
“Maybe, and he’s my stalker now, too. I was in the plane with you. Who would’ve benefited if that Cessna had plunged into the sea?”
A quick breeze gusted up from the bay, and Willow’s teeth chattered.
“Are you in shock?” Heath draped an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get in my truck.”
She hung on to Heath numbly as he led her to his vehicle. Of course Mark’s condition hadn’t been an accident. Someone knew what they’d just discovered about the mineral rights. Someone knew they were the two impediments that stood in the way of this great land development—benefiting Bradford and Son, certain factions of the Samish and even the Keels.
Heath helped her into his truck and then slid into the driver’s side. He punched on the engine and tabbed a few buttons on the console. Heat rose from the leather seat, warming her thighs and backside.
