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Are You Afraid Of The Dark :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 151 из 173"
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, when Diane and Kelly walked out of the hotel, there was a line of taxis in front of the entrance. The two women got into one, and Kelly gave the driver the number of Lois Reynolds's house on Marion Street.
Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled up to the curb. "Here we are." Kelly and Diane stared out the window, aghast. They were looking at the charred rubble of a house that had burned to the ground. There was nothing left but ashes, bits of burned wood, and a crumbled concrete foundation.
"The bastards killed her," Kelly said. She looked at Diane despairingly. "This is the end of the road." Diane was thinking. There's one last chance.
* * *
RAY FOWLER, THE acerbic manager of the Denver airport, scowled at Kelly and Diane. "Let's see if I have this straight. You two are investigating a plane crash, without any authority, and you want me to arrange for you to question the air traffic controller who was on duty, so he can give you some privileged information? Do I have that right?" Diane and Kelly glanced at each other.
Kelly said, "Well, we were hoping-"
"You were hoping what?"
"That you would help us."
"Why would I do that?" "Mr. Fowler, we just want to make sure that what happened to Gary Reynolds really was an accident." Ray Fowler was studying them closely. "It's interesting," he said. He sat there, bemused, and then spoke. "This has been on my mind a lot. Maybe you should discuss this with Howard Miller. He was the air traffic controller on duty when the accident happened. Here's his address. I'll call him and tell him you're coming over." "Thank you. That's very kind of you," Diane said.
Ray Fowler growled, "The only reason I'm doing this is because I think the FAA crash report is bullshit. We found the remains of the plane, but interestingly enough, the black box was missing.
It just disappeared."
* * *
HOWARD MILLER LIVED in a small stucco house six miles from the airport. Miller was a small, energetic man in his forties. He opened the door for Diane and Kelly. "Come in. Ray Fowler told me you were coming. What is it I can do for you?" "We'd like to talk to you, Mr. Miller." "Sit down." They sat on the couch. "Like some coffee?" "No, thanks." "You're here about the Gary Reynolds crash." "Yes. Was it an accident or-?" Howard Miller shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I've never experienced anything like it in all the years I've been working here. Everything was going according to protocol. Gary Reynolds radioed for permission to land, and we cleared him.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, when Diane and Kelly walked out of the hotel, there was a line of taxis in front of the entrance. The two women got into one, and Kelly gave the driver the number of Lois Reynolds's house on Marion Street.
Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled up to the curb. "Here we are." Kelly and Diane stared out the window, aghast. They were looking at the charred rubble of a house that had burned to the ground. There was nothing left but ashes, bits of burned wood, and a crumbled concrete foundation.
"The bastards killed her," Kelly said. She looked at Diane despairingly. "This is the end of the road." Diane was thinking. There's one last chance.
* * *
RAY FOWLER, THE acerbic manager of the Denver airport, scowled at Kelly and Diane. "Let's see if I have this straight. You two are investigating a plane crash, without any authority, and you want me to arrange for you to question the air traffic controller who was on duty, so he can give you some privileged information? Do I have that right?" Diane and Kelly glanced at each other.
Kelly said, "Well, we were hoping-"
"You were hoping what?"
"That you would help us."
"Why would I do that?" "Mr. Fowler, we just want to make sure that what happened to Gary Reynolds really was an accident." Ray Fowler was studying them closely. "It's interesting," he said. He sat there, bemused, and then spoke. "This has been on my mind a lot. Maybe you should discuss this with Howard Miller. He was the air traffic controller on duty when the accident happened. Here's his address. I'll call him and tell him you're coming over." "Thank you. That's very kind of you," Diane said.
Ray Fowler growled, "The only reason I'm doing this is because I think the FAA crash report is bullshit. We found the remains of the plane, but interestingly enough, the black box was missing.
It just disappeared."
* * *
HOWARD MILLER LIVED in a small stucco house six miles from the airport. Miller was a small, energetic man in his forties. He opened the door for Diane and Kelly. "Come in. Ray Fowler told me you were coming. What is it I can do for you?" "We'd like to talk to you, Mr. Miller." "Sit down." They sat on the couch. "Like some coffee?" "No, thanks." "You're here about the Gary Reynolds crash." "Yes. Was it an accident or-?" Howard Miller shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I've never experienced anything like it in all the years I've been working here. Everything was going according to protocol. Gary Reynolds radioed for permission to land, and we cleared him.