Page 4 of Easton Island

“Hey, beautiful.” Wyatt’s husky voice echoed.

“Hey, Wyatt. How is your day?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

He sobered. “What’s going on?”

“Ted sent his report.”

“Jason left Florida?”

“He’s still in Fort Myers, hanging out at Coastal Aviation.”

The line went quiet…so quiet Morgan thought their call had been disconnected. “Wyatt?”

“I’m here. Jason is flying planes?”

“I’m not sure. He couldn’t tell. Is there any way you can check? There must be some sort of aviation database out there.”

“I can’t, but I know someone who can.”

“Denver,” Morgan and Wyatt said in unison.

“You’re right. I’ll give him a call.” She glanced at the clock. “Better yet, I’ll swing by the airport to get the information firsthand.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Morgan hung up, grabbed her jacket and keys, and trekked to her SUV. During the drive, the image of Jason casually leaning against the plane, smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world, lingered.

And why wouldn’t he be smiling and happy? The man was free as a bird when he should be sitting in prison, serving time for drug trafficking, not to mention kidnapping her.

Easton Island Airport’s parking lot was half full, which meant she easily found a parking spot near the main entrance. Down the sidewalk and through the double doors she went.

Morgan veered left, making her way to the airport’s offices. She checked in at the receptionist’s desk and discovered Denver Coates, an Easton family friend who was also the airport’s manager, was in his office.

After a quick announcement of her arrival, Morgan made her way to the back. She found Denver’s door partially open and gave it a light rap.

“Morgan. Come in.” Denver, a wide smile on his face, sprang from his chair. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all. Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” She dropped her purse on the floor and took an empty seat across from him. “I need a favor, and I’m hoping you can help.”

“What is it?”

“This.” Morgan pulled up the email from Ted, clicked on the attachment and handed Denver her phone.

His expression grew grim. “Jason is flying planes?”

“Maybe. Wyatt and I thought there might be a database you could check to find out if he’s gotten a pilot’s license.”

“There is.” Denver handed her phone back and reached for his mouse. “I’m assuming Coastal Aviation is in Florida.”

“In Fort Myers.”