Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

at stealing the logs.
    ***
    I’d just pulled my second beer from a cooler when Vince found me.
    “You’re not dancing,” he said.
    I pulled the top off my bottle. “Not much of a dancer.”
    He turned toward the DJ and they exchanged a nod I didn’t like the looks of. The DJ picked up his mike.
    “I’ve got a request to slow it down, folks, so grab a honey, or a hottie, or whatever you can grab, and come out for some smoochie-smoochie on the dance floor.” He made kiss noises into the microphone.
    Piano notes from Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” rang through the hangar, and Vince extended his hand. I hesitated.
    “Please don’t embarrass me, girl,” he said gently. “If you don’t dance with me, I’ll hear about it for a long, long time.”
    He closed a hand over mine and pulled me toward him. Then he slipped an arm around the small of my back, and immediately, it seemed, we were dancing.
    It was the first time I’d danced since Jack. Vince leaned over me slightly, his chin on the side of my forehead. A faint trace of cologne clung to him.
    Holding him, swaying to “Crazy,” I wished the old songs were longer. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and let my eyes close, rocking with him wherever he led me. He opened his fingers on my back and drew me nearer until there was no distance left to close. I slid my hand from his shoulder to the place between his shoulder blades. It was a conversation of sorts, only wordless.
    When the song ended and I opened my eyes, I was looking straight over Vince’s shoulder at Jeannie. She leaned against the wall with a satisfied smirk on her face and raised her drink.
    She walked over to us and introduced herself to Vince before I could. Jeannie wanted to tell anyone that would listen that she’d passed her second Accelerated Freefall dive. This time, her radio worked and she’d had a nice stand-up landing in the field behind the hangar.
    As she carried on, I spotted Craig across the room and got an idea.
    ***
    One thing Jeannie excelled at was approaching men. Most flirted with her, but even the ones who didn’t flirt seemed unable to ignore her. Craig didn’t fall cleanly into either category, but fortunately, another of Jeannie’s talents was idle banter.
    I had verified the loft was empty and asked Jeannie to keep Craig busy until she saw me again. She was on him like a suction cup, and only one thing went wrong. When I opened the drawer, the flight logs were missing.

Chapter Seventeen
    I caught Jeannie’s eye from across the room to let her know she could ease up on Craig. Vince was out back at the picnic bench, having a plate of barbecue with Scud and Big Red. I joined them.
    “I learned something neat about you tonight,” I told Big Red. “I didn’t know you were in social work.”
    He nodded, and bit into a dinner roll.
    “Is it as bad as they say?” I asked. “I hear such awful things on the news.”
    He raised a hand to stop me. “My dear, I’ll talk to you about parachutes and pool tables, motorcycles and mackerel, but not about those kids. Not tonight, not on a boogie weekend.”
    “Sorry,” I said. “I have a soft spot for children.”
    “Got kiddos, Emily?” Scud asked.
    I answered carefully. “I did, once. I lost her when she was very young.”
    I glanced at Vince, worried that finding out this way would feel like a betrayal. He watched me with a wounded quality, but seemed more sympathetic than surprised.
    “Anyway,” I said, “I’ll ask David about it later instead.”
    Big Red grimaced. “Don’t do that. Touchy subject.”
    “Why?” Scud asked.
    Big Red took a swig of Busch, then seemingly chose to abandon his earlier taboo. “He’s being investigated.”
    “Investigated? What for?” Scud asked.
    Big Red wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked around to make sure David wasn’t near.
    “Racial discrimination.”
    I leaned in, incredulous. David seemed friendly enough. Then again, he wouldn’t be the first friendly bigot I’d met.
    “We got audited this quarter,” Big Red continued. “There were a high percentage of cases closed as ‘Unable to Locate’—”
    “Damn, Red. You already lost me,” Scud said through a mouth full of food.
    Big Red started over. “Everyone’s assigned field cases to investigate. You know, a neighbor calls in that Mom’s mistreating Baby, or Dad’s using drugs…that sort of thing?”
    Scud nodded.
    “Sometimes families are missing when we visit. If they think