“But this is stil al conjecture,” I said.
“Not real y,” Jansen said.
I waited.
“Couple of kids made an interesting discovery yesterday morning.”
13
“THREE KIDS WERE RUNNING THEIR DOGS IN A FIELD EAST OF THEcrash site early Monday, spotted what they thought was a ghost flapping around on Grandpa’s old tobacco barn.”
An image. A pilot’s corpse, parachute rising and fal ing with the wind. Ryan voiced my thought.
“Lord of the Flies,”he said.
“Perfect analogy,” Jansen said. “Having pondered the situation over Nehi and Moon Pies, our little geniuses decided to do some sleuthing. When their beastie turned out to be a parachuted packet of white powder, they voted to stash the booty while considering further action.”
“That action included a broader search,” I guessed.
“They found three more packets of blow in the woods. Knowing about the Cessna, and beingCopsandCSIregulars, they figured good fortune had befal en them.”
“They cal ed 911 to inquire about a reward.”
“Phoned around ten this morning. The Charlotte-Mecklenburg PD contacted the parents, and an open discussion ensued. Bottom line: the kids had four bundles of snort and four parachutes squirreled away in Gramp’s shed.”
“You’re sure it’s cocaine?” I asked.
“The stuff wil have to be tested. But, yeah, I’d bet my ass it’s coke.”
“Why would the pilot’s pickup crew leave the stuff behind?”
“Access to the location is by one narrow, winding road. They probably watched the Cessna go down, figured if they lingered they’d meet emergency responders on their way out. Opting for freedom over fortune, they hauled ass.”
That made sense.
“According to our scenario, the last chute opened prematurely,” I said. “Why?”
“Could have been just lousy luck. Or the blowout could have been caused by an airstream.”
“How so?”
“The army airborne has had deaths over the years from parachutes inflating accidental y while the jumper stands in the door. The reserve chute is worn in front, and the whipping airstream sometimes gets inside and rips the pack open, dragging the chute and the jumper out the door prematurely.”
“Opening the doggy door would have caused an airstream to whip around inside the cabin?” Ryan asked.
“It’s possible,” Jansen said.
“But they’d successful y launched four chutes. Why a screwup with the fifth?” I asked.
“Maybe the last bundle was lighter. Maybe the pax didn’t get the chute wrapped fast enough. Maybe the pilot made a sudden maneuver with the plane.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“The snort was packed in one-foot-square bundles. That was a pretty tight fit for the doggy door. Maybe the last bundle got jammed and the chute blew before they could knock it free,” Ryan suggested.
“Wouldn’t that leave one bundle in the plane?” I asked.
“Or under it.” Jansen hesitated a microsecond. “I did find something.”
“Another packet of drugs?” I asked.
“Hardly a packet. Mostly ash and melted plastic.”
“Underneath the wreckage?”
“Yeah.”
“Ash from what?”