No Return (4 page)

Danny looked uncertain. “We don’t have any way to make you a copy right now. We could do it on one of the laptops back at the hotel.”

“Copying’s not a problem. If you’ll just give
us
the tapes, we could—”

“Digital card,” Danny interjected.

Forman smiled. “Digital card, then. We can make the copies back on the base.”

Dione took a quick step forward. “Hold on. That footage belongs to the Quest Network. It’s not leaving our hands. If you’d like a copy, you can send someone to pick it up at the hotel.”

“Miss Li, I totally understand your reluctance,” the commander said, his voice calm and accommodating. “I promise you, we will return your original as soon as possible.”

“Oh, no. No one’s giving anything to anyone,” Dione told him. “There’s a certain thing called freedom of the press.”

“Again, I understand your reluctance,” the commander said patiently. “But this isn’t a matter of press freedom. It’s a matter of finding out why one of our men is dead, and trying to prevent it from happening to someone else. All I’m asking for is your help.”

Before Dione could say anything else, Wes jumped in. “Sure,” he said. “No problem. We can get you the card.”

Dione glanced quickly at Wes, her jaw clenched. “This isn’t your responsibility. It’s mine.” She turned her attention back to the commander. “That footage is network property.”

Wes locked eyes with her. “They said they’d give it back as soon as they can. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

She held his gaze for a moment before finally turning away. “Fine,” she whispered.

Wes turned to Forman. “Danny can get you the digital card.”

“But we want it back tomorrow,” Dione demanded.

“We’ll do what we can,” Forman said.

She frowned, then gave Danny a single terse nod.

“Please give it to Lieutenant Miller,” Forman said.

Danny led the lieutenant over to the SUVs.

“I’m going to lodge a formal complaint,” Dione said.

The commander smiled sympathetically. “If you feel that’s necessary, then by all means do so.”

She pulled away from them and marched off to where the others were gathered.

“Sorry,” Wes said as he stood waiting with Forman.

“It’s okay,” the commander told him. “She’s just doing her job. That I can understand.”

A few moments later, Danny and Lieutenant Miller returned. In the lieutenant’s hand was a digital card.

“Thank you,” the commander said. “If we need to speak to you further, we’ll be in touch. But you’re free to go now.”

He started walking back toward his helicopter, Lieutenant Miller falling in step behind him.

“Excuse me,” Dione said.

The commander looked back. “Yes, Ms. Li?”

“Don’t you need to know where we’re staying? So you know where to return the card when you’re done?” There was more than a little accusation in her question.

“Of course. I’m so sorry. Sometimes I get too focused on the task at hand. Where
are
you staying?”

“At the Desert Rose Motel on China Lake Boulevard,” Wes said.

“Thank you. We’ll get the card back to you as quickly as possible.”

“We appreciate that.”

“Again, thank you all for your help.”

As the crew climbed back in the SUVs, Wes took a final look at the mangled remains of the plane. He was trying to think of something more he could have done, but he knew deep down there was nothing. He got behind the wheel, then headed back to Ridgecrest.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Dione said to Wes once they’d reached the highway.

Wes remained silent.

“They had no right to take our footage.”

“I don’t know if they had a right or not,” Wes said. “But it wasn’t worth arguing about. We watched someone die out there today, remember?”

She took a deep breath. “I realize that. It’s just I don’t like being taken advantage of.”

“So you’re taking the moral high ground on this?”

“Damn right I am.”

“You thought it was perfectly fine to have Danny shooting footage of the trapped pilot?”

“Don’t get righteous on me, Wes. News teams shoot that kind of stuff all the time.”

“Last I checked, we weren’t a news team.”

“It doesn’t matter that we’re not a news team,” she said, getting heated. “We witnessed a news event, and were the
only
people on the scene.”

“So it was our obligation,” Wes said.

“Absolutely.”

Wes caught Danny’s eyes in the mirror and shook his head. Danny arched an eyebrow, but gave a slight nod and remained silent.

The truth was, they
did
have the footage. Wes had gotten the auto-backup system working that morning before they’d left the hotel. It was set up to wirelessly transfer everything from the cameras to a flash hard drive in the back of the Escape at fifteen-minute intervals without the operators needing to do anything.

They’d tell Dione in a few days. But not now. If she knew they had the shots, she would have Wes send them to L.A., and they would be on all the networks within an hour.

But that wasn’t really what made Wes keep his mouth shut.

He had been right beside the pilot, had actually talked to him. He’d had the chance to save the man’s life and failed.

This wasn’t news to Wes.

This was far more personal than that.

THE BIG BROWN, THAT’S WHAT ONE OF WES’S
old friends used to call the desert. And that’s exactly what it was. Vast and tan. The dirt, the bushes, the birds, the rocks, everything variations on the theme.

Wes had never intended on seeing it again. Not in person, anyway.

But time had a way of changing things, and when the assignment for the “High Desert” episode had come up, Wes had realized it would be his opportunity to do something he should have done a long time ago.

When they’d arrived the night before, they had entered the valley high on the western edge, driving along the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Below them, the eastern half of the valley had been lit up like a squashed ball of Christmas lights, a glowing oasis in an otherwise dark landscape. At night the city of Ridgecrest was indistinguishable from the adjacent Navy base at China Lake.

The moment Wes had seen those lights, his chest muscles had begun constricting tightly across his ribs as if they were trying to crush him. In his ears, blood had thundered past, sounding like the rapids of the Kern River. He’d glanced around to see if anyone had picked up on his distress, but the others had been either staring out the window or half-asleep.

The next morning the town had looked somewhat diminished. There was just no way to hide all the brown from the sun. And while Wes’s tension had mellowed, it hadn’t gone away, becoming a low simmer he was unable to shake off.

“You grew up here?” Danny had asked incredulously as they’d driven through town that morning on their way out to the Pinnacles.

“It’s got its good points,” Wes had replied.

“Name three.”

“The people are nice. Air-conditioning is a given. And you always know someone who has a swimming pool.”

Danny had snorted.

“I don’t know,” Alison had said from the back. “I kind of like it. Looks homey.”

“It was,” Wes had said.
For a while, anyway
.

Now that the sun had set on a day none of them could have ever expected nor would ever forget, Wes wondered if there was any way he could just return to Los Angeles. Not even back in his hometown for twenty-four hours, and a fighter jet—an F-18, he’d learned from the medic who’d patched him up—nearly killed him.

If that wasn’t an omen, he didn’t know what was.

He had just stepped into the shower when someone pounded on the door to his room. He tried ignoring it, but whoever it was wasn’t giving up.

“I’m coming!” he hollered as he climbed back out and threw a towel around his waist.

He pulled the door open. Danny was standing there, his arm in the air ready to knock again.

“What?” Wes asked, pissed.

“Uh … hey. Just wanted to let you know we’re all meeting at the cars in ten. Going to grab something to eat.”

Wes stared at him, saying nothing.

“I … uh … I thought you’d like the heads-up. Maybe we can get a drink, too. Don’t know about you, but I could sure use a beer or three.”

Wes shook his head and shut the door without replying.

“Does that mean you’re coming or not?” Danny called through the door.

Wes got back into the shower, letting the hot water stream over his head. He knew the others were going to want to know what he’d seen. They’d want to hear details. And if it didn’t happen tonight, it would happen tomorrow.

Better to get it over with now.

He finished his shower, pulled on some clothes, and was at the SUVs only a few minutes late. With the exception of Monroe, everyone was already there. But that wasn’t surprising. She seldom joined the crew after hours.

Dione looked at Wes. “So, where should we go?”

“What do you mean?”

“To eat,” she said as if he were dense as a brick.

He shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“Come on, Wes, we’re starving,” Tony Hall, the crew’s production assistant, said. Dione had kept him running errands all day, so he’d missed all the fun at the Pinnacles.

“It’s been seventeen years since I’ve been here,” Wes said. But no one in the group seemed very sympathetic. He dug deep into his memory. “Uh … if it’s still there, John’s Pizza’s not too far away.”

“John’s it is,” Dione said.

John’s was still there. Unfortunately, though, the beer and the pizza didn’t last long enough for Wes to finish telling them about the crash. So, at Danny’s suggestion, they stopped off at a bar within walking distance of the motel named Delta Sierra.

“That booth’s empty,” Alison said, pointing across the room.

Danny laughed as they sat down. “Check this out.” He pointed at the table. It was glass topped, and underneath was a large piece of paper with the words pilot lingo in bold on top. Term number one, printed larger than the others, read:

DELTA SIERRA—Dumb Shit

The aviation theme didn’t end there. The walls were covered with framed pictures of pilots and planes and hangars. And prominent on the list of drinks were a Bogey Shot, a Flattop Martini, and something called a Hornet in a Cage.

Alison touched Wes on the arm. “Maybe we should have gone somewhere else.”

“Why?” Danny asked. “This place is great.”

“That’s because it was obviously named after you,” she scoffed. “I was just thinking that after the day we’ve had, maybe someplace a little less
aircraft
oriented might be better.”

Anna smiled at Wes. “We don’t have to stay.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s fine. Besides, Danny’s buying.”

Laughter all around.

Danny grinned. “I don’t believe I actually promised that.”

“I don’t care if you promised or not, it’s what’s going to happen.”

More laughter.

When things settled down again, Danny said, “I’ll tell you what surprised me most out there today. I thought that plane was part of the Air Force, then all of a sudden we were surrounded by all these Navy people … sailors … whatever you call them. Since when is the Navy in the middle of the desert?”

“China Lake’s a naval base, Danny,” Alison said.

“Yeah, but where’s the water? Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the Navy’s thing boats?”

“The Navy needs a place to test its planes and weapons,” Wes said. “So they set up out here a long time ago. Nothing better than the empty desert to drop a bomb in. And it’s ‘ships,’ not ‘boats.’ ”

“Seriously, Danny,” Dione said. “It was all in the episode brief.”

“Like I’m the only one who never reads those.” He looked around the table for support, but everyone stared back at him like he was an idiot. “Okay, fine. Sorry.”

“I think it’s time for that first round?” Dione suggested.

“Right.” Danny climbed out of the booth.

“Take Tony with you,” Alison said. “So they won’t card you.”

“Ha-ha,” Danny said, glaring at her. Though he was twenty-seven, he had one of those baby faces that made him look like he was barely out of high school. By comparison, Tony, a couple of years younger, actually looked like he was in his late twenties. As Danny turned for the bar, he motioned Tony to join him. “You can help me carry the drinks.”

As soon as they were gone, Alison and Anna decided to make a pre-drink trip to the ladies’ room, leaving Dione and Wes the only ones still at the table.

“Don’t spread this around yet,” Dione said, “but the office wants us to try to make up the time without adding a day.”

“Did you expect anything less?”

“I was looking at the schedule, and I think if we cram two of Tuesday’s interviews into Monday, we’ll be able to do it.” She gave Wes a hopeful look. “Might mean working an extra hour, though.”

Wes shrugged. “I could always use the overtime.”

“It’s just an hour.”

“Easy to say with your cushy staff job. Freelancer rule number one: Get paid for every hour you work.”

She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, which only caused him to sneer. With a chuckle she shrugged. “Hey, it was worth a try. I guess it’ll be cheaper than shooting an extra day. I really should charge the Navy for the lost time.”