State of Impact by Thomas Scott

Author:Thomas Scott [Scott, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Scott Books
Published: 2020-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

Miles followed the GPS across the river into Illinois, and turned onto a road called 1570 E. That one would take him straight to the airport. Hope my luck holds out, he thought. When he finally arrived, he took a quick run through the parking areas, but didn’t see Foster’s car anywhere in sight. He hadn’t called ahead like he’d done with the other airports, so he’d have to go inside and ask a few questions.

The lobby of the FBO was furnished in what Ron thought looked like early Salvation Army. A young man in shorts and a T-shirt sat behind the counter, his feet propped up on the desk. He had his head buried in a textbook of some kind. “Help you?” He said without looking up.

“I’m Detective Ron Miles with the state.” He’d purposely not said which state. “Do you know who Bob Foster is?”

“Sure,” the kid said. “Everyone knows Bob. What about him?”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Probably in Plainfield. It’s one state that way,” he said, tipping his head to the east. “It’s also where his office is located.”

Miles looked away for a moment, then said, “Pretty quiet around here. Is it always like this?”

The kid put his textbook down with a heavy sigh, as if he were being forced to participate in a conversation he wanted no part of. “Not always. Sometimes the weekends are a little busier. If the weather is good, the weekend warriors come out and fly around the patch.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Ron said.

“Weekend warriors are private pilots who come out and fly on the weekends. The patch is the airport. They get their planes out of the hangars, then fly around in a pattern practicing their takeoffs and landings. Most of them think they’re Jack Armstrong, or something. Newsflash: They’re not.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Armstrong, or Foster?” the kid said, then laughed at his own joke. Miles just stared at him.

“Okay, I get it, you’re one of those.”

“One of what?” Miles said. He was running out of patience.

“One of those guys who doesn’t laugh much. So, Foster?”

Miles rolled his wrist. “Yeah, Foster.”

The kid gave him a little shrug. “Couple of days ago, I guess. Somewhere around that time.” Then he snapped his fingers, pointed at Ron and said, “Wait, I’ll tell you exactly when it was. It was the very next day after that crop duster was stolen out of Indiana.”

“Any idea why he came out here? There’s plenty of places someone could hide that plane.”

“Yeah, I know exactly why,” the kid said. “I was out here with my girlfriend in the middle of the night. We both go to Vincennes University, and our roommates aren’t exactly what you’d call cooperative if a guy wants to have a little fun with his girl. But there’s a pretty comfortable sofa upstairs in the pilot’s lounge and we were going at it like—”

Miles didn’t want to hear all the details, and he was afraid he was going to.

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