Broken Wings by Terri Blackstock Page A

breath and came toward him, his small build complemented by the silk tie and long-sleeved dress shirt that shouted authority. “Come on now, Addison. Where’d all that hostility come from? Can’t we even take a minute to say hello?”
    As usual when dealing with his father-in-law/boss, Addison felt his defenses lowering a bit. It was difficult to forget the pain Sid had suffered when his only child, Addison’s wife, had been snatched from life before her time. After losing his own wife just years earlier, Sid had been the portrait of loneliness, and following the death of his daughter he had clung to Addison as if he were his last living friend. When the double-edged sword of working with a relative sometimes put him unnecessarily on edge, Addison reminded himself of his dead wife’s adoration of the man, and the good relationship he’d had with him during the twelve years of his marriage to Amanda.
    He smiled. “You’re right. I’ve just had a trying day, and I guess I expect the worse. It’s good to see you, Sid.”
    The men shook hands, and then, as he often did, Sid pulled him into an awkward male embrace. “Louisiana’s treating you well,” Sid said in a paternal tone, stepping back. “Looks like you’ve gotten some sun.”
    Addison disengaged himself from the embrace and went into the kitchen to search for something to offer his guest. “Yeah, well. We spent a good many days outside sifting through the wreckage. It was a little hard to tell one piece from another at first. Debris was scattered for a mile or so.”
    “But you’ve had it all tagged and stored for at least a week now, am I right?”
    Addison felt his defenses rising again. Sid was fishing, leading up to something. Already he could feel his anger pushing to the surface again, bracing itself for the boss-lecture that inevitably followed. He pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and poured Sid a glass. “More or less.”
    Sid’s smile defined the age lines on his forehead and ridges down his jaw, and Addison wasn’t fooled. He knew that smile—the kind a cartoon feline offered to a cornered mouse.
    “So where’d you get that sunburn?” Sid asked, as if he still made idle conversation. “Looks pretty fresh to me.”
    “I didn’t know I was sunburnt,” Addison said, his tone growing less cordial. “I don’t usually burn.”
    “Sure,” Sid said. “Right here on your nose, a little across the cheeks. Take a little time off today?”
    So that was it. Sid was trying to make a case for his not working hard enough, not getting the facts down as fast as they wanted. “As a matter of fact, no. I was interviewing the captain’s first officer. It was difficult for her. The crash was only two weeks ago, and I had to question her on her terms. She wanted to talk at the lake, and since I wanted her cooperation, I obliged her.”
    Sid took his tea, chuckling in his maddening, friend-foe kind of way. “The job should have been so cushy when I was in the field. Questioning beside a lake. Not bad. Must be why it’s taking you so long.”
    Addison exhaled loudly and went back to the living room. Wearily, he sank down into a chair and regarded the man who had never quite stopped grieving over Amanda’s death. She was the one unifying factor between them, but sometimes their mutual love of her wasn’t quite enough of a bond. “So is that why you’re here, Sid? To badger me about how long the investigation is taking? Because it won’t do any good. You know that by now.”
    Sid pulled the knees of his slacks and sat down, holding the tea on his knee. The condensation formed a wet ring on his pants. “There’s been some concern,” he began, “that you move too slowly. You know that crash that happened in Omaha two days after this one? It’s already wrapped up. That investigator is free to move on to his next assignment. Meanwhile, we keeping waiting…”
    “That crash didn’t have any fatalities,” Addison pointed out. “It was