What in the hell? Ruby thought, struggling to keep up.

“What was up with that crashed plane, Lieutenant?” Wheldon said. “Steve dived down and saw it. Now Steve is gone. I’m thinking there’s a connection there.”

“Listen, Mr. Wheldon,” Ruby said, rubbing at her forehead. “Let’s get something straight. I’m no longer assigned to this investigation. I can’t be of any help to you.”

“Too much too soon,” Wheldon said. “Okay, I understand, Lieutenant. If you would just check out my videos and see what I do. Then you can call me back.”

“I have to go,” Ruby said.

“Just one thing, though. If you talk to anyone, talk to me. Whatever you say to the so-called ‘real press’ will go straight to the people doing this. It happens every single time. They don’t protect sources anymore. Industry wide, they’re under pressure from the government. They’ll roll on you so quick it’ll make your head spin.”

“I have to go now,” Ruby said again, suddenly desperate to get off the phone.

“Lieutenant, one more thing. If you don’t want them to track you, take your battery out of your phone. They can still follow you by the cell towers if the battery is still in it.”

“Track me? Me? What did I do? Who would track me?” Ruby said, incredulous.

“They, Lieutenant. There really is a They. You’re about to find that out, I think. When you do, call me first thing, okay? I can help you,” Wheldon said.

28

Gannon’s noon flight out of North Eleuthera was only an hour to Miami. But he had to wait two more hours for the connecting flight, so he didn’t get into Tampa until almost five.

At six, he was sitting at a bar in Tampa’s Airside C terminal when he saw his son coming through the crowd in front of the food court.

Gannon stood, smiling. Declan was fair-haired like he was but stood several inches taller at an impressive six foot three. He had actually filled out a little, too, Gannon noticed proudly as he came over. He was thicker at the shoulders, at the neck.

Gannon wasn’t a hugger, yet he found himself hugging his strapping son right there in the middle of the bright bustling concourse.

He held him for a second after, looking at him. His mother’s straight nose, her hazel eyes. Gannon smiled as he remembered him as a hyperactive kid, holding him on his knee for hours at family events so he wouldn’t take down the Christmas tree. It had been six months since he’d last seen him.

Then he thought about his wife, Annette, who had died when Declan was just a freshman in high school.

How proud would she be of this solid young man here? he thought. Just beside herself, he knew. Over the moon.

Especially about the tryout. How many times had he come home from work to see them in the backyard hitting Wiffle balls to each other. She had actually been the biggest baseball fan in their family.