“I’ll call over to Sun Valley Air as well,” Pete said.

“Appreciate the help.”

“Back to you shortly.”

As they passed the entrance to the Rainbow Bend subdivision, Walt got a better look at the chaos up the road: a long line of taillights ahead of him, no headlights coming at him. A patrol car off the road-Ketchum police, maybe. A second later, he could make out the truck blocking the road.

“Are those logs?” Brandon asked.

Drivers were out of their cars. A few had gathered around the wrecked patrol car.

Walt and Brandon hurried to the patrol car. Brandon moved the onlookers aside. Walt wrenched open the door and determined the driver was dazed but otherwise seemingly okay.

He looked around, focusing first on the spilled logs, then the power pole lying across the bike-path bridge, the downed wires still spitting sparks.

He handed Brandon the keys to the Cherokee. “Get the power pole cleared first. No civilian traffic is to use the bike bridge, but get me a couple of our guys across if you can.”

“Got it,” Brandon said. “You?”

“Stay on comm,” Walt said, running for the bridge.

With the jet door shut, Summer encouraged Kevin forward. W“Come on, I want to show you,” she said. She squeezed past him, making sure to rub up against him, not wanting his interest to lag. “Seats eight. All eight can sleep flat. Each seat has its own TV, and there’s the big TV on the wall.” She pointed. Light shined weakly through the oval windows.

She handed him a cold beer. There were two microwave ovens, a built-in coffeemaker, a stainless-steel sink. A fire extinguisher was clamped to the wall. Beyond the kitchen, a folding door gave way to a padded seat over a toilet. It faced an emergency exit door. Just over the toilet was a partially open roller panel that accessed a sizable storage area.

Kevin drank some beer, impressed and overwhelmed.

A rechargeable flashlight hung next to the toilet. There was a first-aid kit on the wall.

“All the comforts of home,” he said.

“That’s the idea. Including a satellite telephone.” She pointed to her father’s seat.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“I love this thing. I never tell my father. I don’t want him knowing what I like and don’t like because sometimes I feel like anything I mention liking means he has to buy or get it for me. Believe it or not, I don’t love that. It’s love/hate with this plane. He’s so into it, it actually bugs me. But I love flying it.”

“TMI,” he said, “too much information.”

“Whatever…”

“It’s very cool,” he said.

“You should feel it take off. Oh my God, it’s so totally random! Like a rocket or something. My dad… he puts his head back, you know? During takeoff. Shuts his eyes, and it’s like he’s getting off or something.” She blushed and giggled again. “Forget I said that,” she spit out quickly.

But Kevin couldn’t forget it, and he thought she probably knew it. The more he thought about it, the more she seemed to be acting, and he wondered what that was all about.

“So, you ready?” she asked.

“Depends what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t try to sound cool. Guys do that all the time, and I’m telling you it’s a complete turnoff, okay? Just be you. You’re cute; live with it. But don’t try to sound like James Bond or something, because you’re not.”

She squeezed past him again and headed toward the cockpit.

“What is it with you and your father?” he asked, trying to strike back. He didn’t like being lectured to.

The question stopped her. She didn’t turn around to face him. “I explained that,” she said. “It’s just father-daughter stuff.”

“And your taking off like this? Running away, coming here when you shouldn’t? That’s just you getting back at him?”

“What are you, my shrink?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, lose it. You’re a buzz kill.”

“I don’t think you should go.”

“No one asked you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go. I wish you’d stay. Why don’t you just tell him whatever it is you want to tell him? Then we could hang out some more.”

Her face brightened, but her look was patronizing. “That’s so sweet,” she said.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m leaving,” she said, her voice deeper and her eyes darker.

“Because of the tennis guy you told me about?” he said.

“Men’s finals are tomorrow, Sunday. He’s playing. I’m going to be there.”

“But then he’s gone, right? To some other tournament? What’s with that? Are you going to follow him? You think he’s down with that? You’re seventeen. They’d arrest him.”

“So, what, you’re suddenly my father? Lose it, would you?”

“If you stay, you get props from Dad, right? Coulda run off but didn’t? He’s got to appreciate that.”

“He doesn’t appreciate anything about me. Believe it and leave it. I’m serious. I’m going down to L.A. and don’t want to be talked out of it. So just let me, would you please?”

“The thing is,” he said, “and we know this better than anyone else, it’s a lot harder when they’re gone, no matter how much of a pain in the ass they are when they’re around.”

“Do you want to see the cockpit or have an Oprah moment?”

He followed her to the front of the jet, and she stepped aside to allow him to pass. He hesitated.

“Go on. It’s why you came along, isn’t it?”

He thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“To sit in that seat.”

He remained standing.

“I understand wanting to blow him off,” he said. “I’ve asked my mother, like, a thousand times to move. Everything here reminds me of him. I can’t stand living in the valley anymore. I’m done. How my mom does it, I have no idea. She’s like trying to hold on to something that isn’t there. She is so lost.”

He slipped into the pilot’s seat. He could hear her breathing.

“You could come with me,” she said.

“That would go over big.”

He sat there. She said nothing.

“We can turn on some music,” she said. “See those battery switches? Flip the second one.”

“I need the key, right? Are you sure this is cool?”

“There is no key. Not for this part.”

“No way.”

“Way. The key’s for the door.”

“You’re bullshitting me!”

“No key, no shit.”

He double-checked her instructions and then pushed the buttons as told. Lights came on in the cabin, and she turned them off. Then she pulled down all the window blinds.

The dash had come alive, the number of lights and instruments overwhelming.

“Have you ever flown it?” he asked.

“I’ve steered it a couple of times, sure. My dad can land it. He took instruction and stuff. He’s a complete safety freak. There’s a case in the closet,” she said, “with an extra radio, a portable GPS, charts, flashlight. Extra everything-that’s my dad. He’ll probably wish he had an extra daughter by this time tomorrow.”

Kevin’s phone chirped, signaling a text message. He slipped the phone out of his front pocket.

Kev? Walt is looking for you. Where are you?

I’m coming to the airport. Mom

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

“Gotta go!” he said. How the hell does she know I’m here?

Someone must have seen his car.

“No way! We just got here.”

“I’ve got to go,” he repeated.