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“That’s foolproof, darling. The inevitable will happen. It has no connection to us, except in recognition of our timely benevolence to the dying child and her family. It’s the best press we could possibly hope for.”
Goliad could feel the tissue around his eyes getting puffier by the minute. His nose was throbbing. The discomfort was distracting, but that’s not why he was having trouble following their thread. “I’m sorry. What am I missing?”
Delores smiled up at him. “While you were chasing after Dr. O’Neal through a hotel, a better plan was hatched and implemented.”
“By who?”
“Of all people,” she said with a light laugh, “Timmy.”
Goliad looked between them to make certain that they were serious, that he’d heard correctly. Last night, they had treated Timmy like a leper they couldn’t wait to get out of their home. Now, they looked smugly pleased with him.
Richard consulted the clock on the mantel. “We should be hearing soon.”
“Hearing what?” Goliad asked.
Delores said, “That our problem has been taken care of.”
10:02 a.m.
The weather around Knoxville was no better than it had been in Atlanta, but Rye made a perfect landing through ponderous rain at a municipal airport located on the fringes of the bedroom community in which the Griffins lived. As at the other airfield, there was little activity. At one end of the lobby, two men were playing cards. Another was asleep in a chair.
An older man was manning the desk. While Rye conferred with him, Brynn called an Uber car to take them to the Griffins’ home.
“He’ll be here in five to seven minutes,” she told Rye when he rejoined her. “You have time for this.” She passed him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks. Did you call the Griffins?”
“I’ve wrestled with it, but decided not to.”
“Still afraid that letting them know will jinx it?”
“Silly, I know.”
“Not silly. Pilots are superstitious, too.” He took a sip of coffee. “Once there, you’ll be ready to roll?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Griffin signed the consent forms when we applied for compassionate use, but I’ll go over everything with them again.” She began explaining the steps she would take but broke off when she noticed that Rye was listening with only half an ear. She was stuck with a sudden realization. “You’re not coming with me.”
He looked down at her half-empty cup. “Finished with that?”
Dumbly she handed it to him. He carried it along with his over to a trash can. When he came back he said, “No, I’m not going with you. But I’ll stick around here until I’ve heard from you that you’re inside the house and that all is good.”
“You have plenty of time to make that flight to Columbus this evening.”
“No rush to make that.” He told her the extent of his last conversation with Dash. She was flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I needed some time to absorb the shock.”
“I could tell when you got back in the car that his call had made you angry.”
“At first,” he admitted. “But I can’t really fault Dash. This could impact his livelihood.”
“You meet with the accident investigators tomorrow?”
“Early. They’re not screwing around. It’s up to them to decide how reckless and irresponsible I was.”
“You weren’t reckless and irresponsible.”
“They may think otherwise.”
