Broken Wings by Terri Blackstock Page B

different. All they had to do there was question the pilot and passengers. The answers were clear.”
    “Some believe the answers are clear in this case,” Sid said. “Some of your own team members, as a matter of fact.”
    Addison sprang to his feet, ire rising to color his face. He could tolerate criticism from his superiors, but the disloyalty of his team members was too much to accept. “Are you telling me that some of my team members have been complaining about my diligence in my job?”
    Sid chuckled again, waving a hand to stem Addison’s anger. “No, no, of course not. Settle down. It’s just that it’s become our impression that they feel they’ve come to a conclusion…”
    “How can you even think that?” Addison asked, appalled. “I haven’t even got all the test results back. I haven’t even heard the whole tape yet.”
    “Mere formalities,” Sid said, waving the details off with his hand. “In a case where things are so cut-and-dried, those are nothing more than formalities.”
    Addison couldn’t believe they were discussing the same crash. “Cut-and-dried? How can you say that?”
    “It was a matter of pilot error, obviously,” Sid said.
    “And I’m just trying to substantiate that,” Addison argued. “What do you want from me?”
    “We want you to follow procedure. We want you to finish his profile and his seventy-two-hour history, then make an announcement.”
    “What do you think I’ve been doing?” Addison shouted. “I spent the whole day doing that, and I have an appointment tonight at the health club to meet with another pilot who seems to have some more of the facts I need.”
    Sid’s feigned pleasantness disappeared. “Don’t raise your voice to me, Addison. I’m not above losing my patience with you.”
    Addison’s jaw went rigid, and he clenched his fist and turned his back to the man who had driven him to the edge of fury more than once. Amanda had loved him, he reminded himself again. For that, he at least owed the man his respect.
    “We want you to move this along. The press is waiting for an announcement, and the public is holding their breath. The longer you take on this investigation, the worse the airline industry looks. It doesn’t take all day to question a first officer who wasn’t even on the plane. Maybe if you did it in a more professional environment than the lake, you’d get somewhere a lot faster. Presuming that information is what you want, and not something else!”
    Addison caught the innuendo and struggled not to swing at the man. “I don’t work the way you did,” he said in an explosively calm voice. “I try to make the person I’m questioning comfortable. I try to take into consideration that they’re working through their own grief.”
    “Grief in a health club? Are you going to question the pilot during an aerobics class?”
    “Racquetball, as a matter of fact,” Addison admitted defiantly. “It works, Sid. If I can meet people on their own terms, they’re a lot more willing to cooperate.”
    Sid set down his glass and crossed his knees. Silently, he shook his head, the way a father does when he can’t believe the naiveté in his son.
    “What do you guys want?” Addison asked, finally. “Bottom line. Just get to the point.”
    “We want you to go after the questions where you’ll get answers. Go to the family. Question the wife about that seventy-two-hour history. Stop pampering and start drilling. Start at the core, and you’ll cut weeks off the investigation. There isn’t time to waste with lakes and health clubs. You have a job to do.”
    Addison crossed his arms rigidly, his compressed lips revealing his distaste. “So, does the NTSB plan to throw in some bright lights to put the subjects under, a few torture devices? That might save a little time, too. Maybe we could make those people talk. Show them we mean business.”
    “Come on, Addison, you know what I’m saying.”
    Addison leaned forward, waving his finger