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“Leave him alone,” Rye said. “He didn’t know I was going to ‘trespass’ in his plane. He saw a pilot in trouble, he helped out. He would’ve done the same for any other aviator.”
“I doubt that,” Rawlins remarked. “You said he was starstruck.”
“I said no such thing.”
“Implied it. You said he’d heard of you in Afghanistan.”
“Airmen with time on their hands talk,” Rye said in a mumble, turning his head aside to look out the passenger window. It was raining again. The sky had turned stormy. He could no longer see the house on top of the hill.
Rawlins said, “Myra dug a little deeper on you and uncovered the details of what happened over there, learned about the crash of the plane you were supposed to be flying.”
“Myra’s a jewel.”
“Is that what’s the matter with you?”
Rye turned back to look at Rawlins. “Who said anything is the matter with me?”
Rawlins gave him a look. Wilson coughed behind his fist.
Rye cussed under his breath. “Okay, I carry around some shit; doesn’t everybody?”
“Way we heard it, you weren’t responsible.”
“Felt like it. I know I’m responsible for Brady. Weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been there that night.”
“He doesn’t hold it against you. In fact, he wants to see you again tomorrow when you’re in town.”
Rye’s heart bumped. He looked at Rawlins. Was the deputy baiting him? He turned to Wilson.
“Brady’s doing good,” he said. “Stable condition.”
Rye turned back to Rawlins. “You asshole! You told me he died during surgery.”
“I told you he arrested. They worked on him, got him back. You hung up on me before I finished.”
Rye’s ears were ringing. “But he’s okay?”
“What part don’t you understand?” Rawlins said.
“Look, you son of a bitch, I’ve been dying a little myself over thinking that Brady was dead.”
“Well, he’s not.” Rawlins made an impatient motion. “Go on with your story.”
“Haven’t you heard enough?”
“What about Wes O’Neal?”
Rye sighed. “We got to his house while you were still there. He loaned us his car.” He paused, looked between them, and then admitted to switching out the license plates. “That’s hardly worse than a parking violation. Don’t go after him. He’s trying to make a go of it.” Again, he split an anxious look between them. “Can we roll now?”
“You’ve told us everything?”
“Yes, dammit.”
Everything except that he and Brynn had made love.
Made love?
He would review the terminology later, and in private. Right now, he had to impress upon them the potential danger she was in. “Y’all don’t like me. I get it. I royally fucked up your Thanksgiving.
