Page 41 of The Shadow Friends

“Andrei?”

She heard his bedroom door close, and then the sad squeak of his bed frame as he fell onto the mattress. He’d taken the news harder than she’d expected, but it had to happen eventually. People come into your life, and then they leave. Inevitably, they leave. When that happens, there’s no choice but to move on.

Andrei would too.

Chapter 17

Jo

Friday

“I first noticed this car parked here Wednesday morning, when I drove into work,” said Frank Nolan. “It caught my eye because it was left way off at the edge of the lot, nowhere near the hangars, where most of our pilots like to park. We have only twenty-eight private aircraft based here, so I know all the local pilots and their cars. But I’ve never seen this car here before.”

Nolan seemed like the kind of man who would recognize the cars of all the pilots who flew in and out of this small municipal airport in Belfast, Maine. For the past twenty-two years, he had been manager of the airport, which was used primarily by single-engine planes, most of them owned by local pilots. In a community this small, those pilots all knew each other’s names and aircraft, and an unfamiliar vehicle parked too long on the property would be noticed by all.

“Then I drove in this morning, and I saw that car was still here. So I started asking around,” said Nolan. “Found out that you folks up the coast were looking for this particular blue MG. Was it stolen?”

Jo didn’t answer. It made her uncomfortable to lie, and silence was better than blatant dishonesty. This was the problem with doing favors for the Martini Club; those people slid so naturally into deception that they thought nothing of asking her to do so as well.

“Well, whoever left it here took good care of it,” Nolan said, eyeing the exterior of the vehicle. “No dents, no scratches.” He peered through the driver’s window. “Spotless inside too.”

The car was indeed pristine both inside and out, which was what Jo would expect, since it was Ingrid Slocum’s vehicle, the one she drove when she wanted something sportier than their Mercedes SUV. She pulled on latex gloves, gave the door handle a tug, and was surprised to find it unlocked. She opened the door and found another surprise: The car key had been left on the driver’s seat. She glanced around the interior but found that nothing of interest had been left behind. Clearly, Ingrid had expected her vehicle to be found, and she’d made its recovery as convenient as possible, without the need for a locksmith or a tow truck. Jo pulled the trunk release and circled around to the rear. Hesitated for an instant before glancing inside, because the memory of finding Karen O’Brien’s dead body was still too fresh, too disturbing.

No body inside. Just clean carpet and a roadside emergency kit. But of course: Ingrid would be ready for all contingencies.

She closed the trunk and turned to Frank Nolan. “You said you first noticed the car when you arrived at work on Wednesday. What time was that?”

“Around seven a.m.”

“And the night before, what time did you leave?”

“Around five.”

“The airport was unmanned all night?”

“This isn’t a busy airport, ma’am, especially this time of year, with all the summer folks gone. We have only sixty or seventy operations a week, most of it general aviation, and our beacon operates sunrise to sunset.”

“What about after sunset? Could someone take off from here?”

“Sure. Like I said, we’ve got twenty-eight single-engine planes parked here most of the time. A pilot could take his bird up for a spin in the evening, if he was so inclined.”

“Without filing a flight plan?”

Nolan shrugged. “There’s no requirement to file a flight plan. Most of our pilots don’t bother, unless they have a reason they want to be tracked. Or they plan to operate in commercial airspace.”

Jo scanned their surroundings, searching for any security cameras. “This area isn’t covered by CCTV?”

“No reason to, out here. We have CCTV for the runway and the hangars. You know, aircraft security. And to record any, um, incidents.”

“You mean like plane crashes.”

He winced. “Haven’t had one of those since 2012. Knock on wood.”

“Can I see all your runway footage for Tuesday afternoon? I want to know if this car’s driver took off from this airport.”

He nodded. “I’ve got all that in the office. I’ll show you.”

Nolan had said it was not a busy airport, and the surveillance video certainly confirmed it. Tuesday afternoon in particular had been quiet, with only two takeoffs and three landings, all by single-engine planes. Nolan was familiar with the aircraft, as well as their pilots.