Free Fall at Angel Creek, page 6
Dee found Naomi’s name on the list and ran the tip of her finger across the printed letters of her name. She wanted to touch her sister, but this was as close as she could get. What was she hoping for? That it wasn’t true? That she’d missed her flight? That Naomi was waiting at the airport to be picked up? Her tortured thoughts just brought more tears.
She wiped her face. “I don’t have time for this.”
Dee went to work studying the passenger list. It was organized by seat location in the airplane. Using a few different sorting methods, she rearranged the names on the list, looking for any patterns or any names that stuck out. She expected to see common last names, like Smith or Jones, but was surprised to find six passengers with the last name of McClain. These six passengers also used only first initials instead of spelling out their first names.
Returning to the original list with names arranged by seat location, she found the six people with the same last name sitting in different locations throughout the cabin. If they were related, wouldn’t they want to sit together? She also sensed something familiar about the name, McClain.
It was something Marcus had said recently when they were working on an illegal weapons case. This felt like a lead she needed to follow, and she called her partner.
“Marcus, do you remember the big weapons case we did a few months ago?”
“Of course. What about it?”
“You mentioned the name McClain to me. Who is that?”
“And why do you need to find this out right now? Aren’t you off duty?”
“Yes, I am. I just want to help the investigation team by doing some computer work. That’s all.”
“Have you made an appointment with the shrink yet?”
“No, and I’m not going to until I finish this job. So the sooner you help me, the sooner I’ll make my appointment.”
“No point in arguing with you anyway. I always lose. At that time I was referring to the case against E.J. McClain. He’s the head of the anti-government McClain Militia, near Bend, Oregon. He’s been financing his white-supremacist operations by selling guns to felons. We’ve never been able to get anything solid enough to arrest him.”
“Does he have any family you’re aware of?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s got five sons, and they all go by initials, like J.R. and P.J.”
Dee looked at her list. Those initials matched the McClain names on the manifest.
“I think E.J. and his sons were passengers on flight 402. This could be significant.”
“Damn. That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Yes, it is. Thanks, Marcus. I need to report this to the investigation team ASAP.”
“And after you report it, you’re going to call the shrink and make an appointment, right?”
“Of course. Bye.”
Dee’s mind was spinning. Could these militia guys actually take down an airplane? Did they smuggle explosives on the plane and either accidentally or intentionally blow it up? Did someone try to take them all out and kill everyone else on the plane as well?
She had to find River and show her this information right now. She would volunteer to do more forensic research on the McClains. If she could see credit card records, past travel information, and emails, she’d have a much better chance of finding any connection between these men and the plane crash. She’d uncovered vital information and had to convince River to put her on the investigation team. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter Eight
Dee drove as fast as she dared across the mountains to the Madras airport. She wished she was driving her police Camaro with her lights on so people would get out of her way. She was energized and on task, a condition she was very familiar with. When she was able to dive into a case and see connections others might miss, she was in her element and using all her skill and experience. That’s how she’d gotten promoted to sergeant, then detective in only three years.
For the first time since this nightmare started, she was calm, her mind focused, her body feeling normal. Concentrating on the passenger list was the only thing giving her a respite from her grief. Since she’d fully immersed herself in this case, she was too busy to think about her loss. Work was her salvation.
River would probably be somewhere near the place she’d stepped on the metal piece. After parking her car, she set out on foot to find her. She kept checking behind her in case River tried to come up and blast her with bear spray again. Following the sound of water, she emerged from the woods onto the grassy bank of Angel Creek. She stopped searching for River to watch the water flow by. It was a pretty, quiet place, with only the sounds of birds and the wind. She wanted to sit down on the bank, take her boots off, and put her feet in the cold, clear liquid. She looked upstream at the small waterfall and found River staring back at her. Oh, shit.
River stomped toward her with an angry expression. “Why are you here?”
“Look. I know what you said, but I can explain.”
“You’re not explaining anything. You’re leaving right now, and I’m reporting you to the chief of the Portland Police Bureau. This is completely unacceptable, Dee.”
“I found some evidence for you.” She tried to sound enticing.
“What evidence?” River still sounded pissed off.
“I discovered a connection between six of the passengers.”
“How do you know who the passengers are? Did you get a copy of the passenger manifest? Oh, my God, Dee. What have you done?” River started pacing in front of her.
“It doesn’t matter how I got the information, but I found six family members of an anti-government militia who have an illegal-weapons business. Isn’t that significant? Could these guys possibly be connected with a bomb?”
“I wonder if that’s why ATF and the FBI are here? This is certainly an interesting development. But, Dee, you can’t know this.”
“Why? It’s important to the investigation.”
“You’re right, but you don’t have the security clearance necessary to see the passenger manifest. Every piece of information about this crash is classified until the investigation is complete. It’s a federal crime for you to even have it, much less analyze it and talk about it. You could get arrested.”
“I don’t care. I have to know what happened to Naomi. If these crazy-assed militia nut cases had anything to do with destroying that plane and killing my sister, they’ll answer to me!”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
River lowered her voice and spoke very deliberately. “I know what you’re going through is horrible, and you did find valuable information that I will definitely act on, but you cannot be involved in this case. I’m sorry.”
Dee couldn’t say anything. She knew she’d stepped out of bounds when she got the passenger list from Marci, but her plan to become involved with this investigation was backfiring. She was getting tossed out and would probably suffer severe consequences. She might even lose her job when River reported her to the chief. She didn’t bother asking for a pass on reporting her. Dr. River Dawson would offer no professional courtesy of looking the other way. She was clearly a stickler for the rules. Dee was toast, and she knew it.
“Well, I had to try. Here’s what I found out about the McClain Militia in Bend. I hope it’s useful. Sorry to bother you.”
Dee turned and left the beautiful creek, her heart shattered.
* * *
River was stunned by what Dee gave her. How the hell did she get the passenger manifest? Everything about this crash was locked down tight. Why did she bring this to me?
Watching Dee walk away with her head down, part of her wished she could put her arms around her and tell her she would survive this. That the rest of her life wouldn’t be filled with sadness and death like it was today. But Dee wouldn’t believe her, because she hadn’t believed it either when her therapist had told her she would have a life after her mother’s death.
For an entire year after her mother died, her life was filled with darkness. Then, very gradually, a few cracks of light appeared. They were tiny rays of hope that River clung to. She learned how to put one foot in front of the other to get through the day, and also to fake it until she made it. She couldn’t bear to talk about what had happened, so she acted like her life was all right just so people would leave her alone. River wanted to share her advice with Dee, but it simply wasn’t allowed. If anyone knew she was working with a victim’s family member, they would assume she was compromised, and her conclusions would be suspect. The NTSB Chief, Ronald Moore, would definitely try to get her kicked off this case, and she couldn’t let that happen.
She took the few items she’d found—a small piece of scorched insulation that had probably floated down the creek, and another piece of internal metal with lime-green anti-corrosion paint on it—with her. Then she drove back to Redmond to turn them in and to discuss Dee’s findings with Ronald. He was an ass, but this was a significant finding he needed to know about. Plus, they had to pursue it.
After looking at Dee’s report for quite a while, Ronald finally said, “How did you make the connection to this local militia group?”
“I have a contact with local law enforcement.”
He picked up a hand mike for the public address system. “This is Ronald Moore speaking. ATF and FBI, please report to my table.”
He could walk over there to them just as easily.
Two guys hurried over to Ronald’s table, and he handed them the report. “What do you think of this?”
“We knew the McClain boys were on this flight, but we hadn’t figured out they intentionally didn’t sit together. The airline also told us they checked five rifle cases before they boarded. We’re still looking for those.”
They both turned to River. “Did you do this analysis? It’s very helpful, and we’d like to run down this lead.”
“Actually, I did it.”
They all turned around to see Dee Rawlings standing behind them with her hands on her hips. River was shocked to see her again and scrambled to think up a cover story.
“Gentlemen, this is Detective Dee Rawlings of the Portland Police Bureau. She is my local law enforcement contact and the person I worked with to obtain information on the McClain passengers.”
“Is she the liaison with Portland police?” Ronald asked.
“No, but she’s a subject-matter expert on militia and illegal firearms activity in the local area.” It was an exaggeration but mostly true.
Dee took the hint, walked forward, and shook hands with the team members like she belonged here. “If you’re interested in an even more detailed analysis, I’d be happy to assist if I could access the full passenger data.”
“We can read you in, Detective Rawlings. Come with us,” the ATF agent said.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to continue to work with Dr. Dawson. We have an established professional working arrangement.”
“Whatever you want do to. Just copy us on any further intelligence you’re able to find on the McClain family.” They walked away, seeming grateful for Dee’s assistance.
River pulled Dee aside. “We need to talk, now.”
* * *
River was clearly mad at her. Too bad, because she would do whatever she had to do to work on this investigation. She understood she now had some negotiating power because the ATF and FBI were interested in her report. What she didn’t understand was why River hadn’t reported her, like she’d threatened to.
“What are you doing here? I told you it wasn’t possible for you to be involved in this case.” River spoke through gritted teeth.
“Why didn’t you report me?”
“Well, I was just about to when Ronald Moore brought in ATF and the FBI, and apparently they like your work. So you accomplished your goal. You got yourself on the team, and I’ll be held responsible when they discover you’re a surviving family member.”
“How will they find that out if I work with you? I won’t mention it if you don’t.”
They stared at each other, unblinking, waiting for the next move.
“Fine. I can’t seem to get rid of you, so I guess I’ll just have to keep you busy, but stay out of my way.”
Dee smiled at her victory. Her stubbornness had served her well, once again. “So what is all this?” She waved her arm across the huge hangar.
“This is where we reassemble all the parts of the airplane we find.” She led Dee on a tour of the investigation headquarters. “We place everything we discover on this DC-10 scaffolding frame to reconstruct the airplane in order to see the big picture. Look over here.”
River showed her the first items found. “This is the number-two jet engine from the tail section. They’re taking it apart to determine if it was running properly at the time the airplane broke apart.”
“Why do you say ‘broke apart’ instead of blew up? Isn’t it obvious it exploded?”
“It may appear obvious to you, but we have to prove it by finding the origin of the explosion on the airframe and the cause of it. You can’t jump to conclusions. We have to examine every aspect of the evidence to see where it leads first, and then we determine the cause. I’m sure it’s similar to what you’ve done as a police detective.”
“Yes, of course. So was this engine the cause of the accident?”
“I don’t think so, but let’s talk to the engine guys.”
They walked over to the engine disassembly area. Hundreds of metal parts were spread out on tables, neatly arranged and tagged. River slowly walked along the tables, looking closely at each part.
“What is all this, and what are you looking for?” It was an organized mess of a zillion sharp, twisted metal pieces.
River pointed to the various parts. “These are all the internal parts of the engine. This engine has seventeen different stages inside it, where the air is accelerated and compressed by each stage to produce jet thrust. These are rotors, the parts that turn, and these other things are the stators, the stationary parts. The engine stages rotate at high speed, three thousand RPMs, to produce power.”
River went into excruciating detail explaining how all the parts of a jet engine work. She pointed to the rainbow-colored drops of molten titanium in the tail cone and explained the significance of the bent blade tips.
Then she walked over to a technician wearing General Electric coveralls. “Have you found any internal damage? How are the fluids?”
“All the discs are intact, the main fan blades are deformed backward, and all parts are accounted for. No internal fire or lines burned through. Oil, hydraulic fluid, and fuel have tested normal, and no indication of ice present. It looks like this engine was operating normally. They found number one yesterday and are bringing it here later today. Still looking for number three.”
“Thanks, guys.” River led Dee to a less noisy place in the hangar.
“Translate for me what he just told you.”
“Essentially, this engine is normal and did not cause the plane to break up. We don’t know anything yet about engines one and three, which are on the wings.”
“How do you know all this stuff, River?”
“Because I flew this airplane for four years in the US Air Force.”
Dee was stunned. She knew River was very smart—she had a doctorate, after all—but there was a lot more to this woman than Dee had first assumed. An air force pilot who flew this giant plane? Dee needed to learn a lot more about Dr. River Dawson.
Chapter Nine
After driving two and a half hours back to her apartment in Portland, Dee couldn’t wait to log in to her computer and look up background information on River Dawson. She wanted to know this woman’s full story. Based on what she saw back in the big hangar, River could think on her feet when she told the ATF and FBI guys that Dee was her “subject-matter expert” on local militia activity. She also wasn’t nearly the rule-follower Dee had first assumed. The fact that River didn’t rat her out after she threatened to showed that she could bend things a little when she needed to.
The first search inquiry revealed some basic information. River was listed as the president of Aviation Accident Solutions, Inc. out of Denver, Colorado. The business website had independent aircraft accident investigation and aviation safety consulting as primary missions. The website showed River’s resume: US Air Force Academy graduate with a bachelor’s degree in aeronautical engineering, master’s degree from Embry-Riddle, and her doctorate from the University of Southern California. It also listed papers she’d written in professional publications and major aircraft accidents she’d worked on. Her company had stellar ratings.
River’s work history verified what she’d told Dee about being an air force pilot, although she served for only five years before going to school for her doctorate. She’d worked with the NTSB, but only for two years. Then she’d started her own company. The real question Dee needed to answer was, who was River working for? It certainly wasn’t the NTSB or any other government agency, although she knew most of these people, so she must be representing some other organization, or another person, with a vested interest in this accident. What was River’s agenda?
Dee dug deeper and was surprised River had had the same mailing address for the last ten years in Denver. River projected an air of sophistication, so Dee had assumed she’d lived all over the world. She also checked property, marriage, and birth-certificate records. Interestingly, River had bought a house with another woman in Los Angeles after she left the air force. Had River been dishonorably discharged for being a lesbian? The time period was right for that possibility.
Just then her phone rang. Dee looked at the display and saw it was the main number for the police department.
“Hello?”
