Free Buried Truth by Dana Mentink Page B

you afraid of flying?”
    Yes. Afraid of flying back into the dark world she’d left. Afraid of being alone again, trapped by her own addiction.
    “I’m fine, thank you. How much longer until takeoff?”
    “About twenty minutes. Please let me know if I can get anything for you.” She drifted away.
    Heather tried her father’s number again, but there was still no answer.
    Twenty more minutes. She ground her teeth as time seemed to stand still.
    Miami, Miami,
she silently chanted. Things would be okay there. She’d find somewhere to stay, somewhere quiet, near the beach maybe. She and Choo Choo would make another life.
    The realization hit her like a slap. In Miami, or South Dakota or some tropical island that was as far away as east from west, she would never escape the pain that assailed her at that moment.
    Her mother’s betrayal.
    Her father’s devotion to his wife.
    Her ruined relationship with Bill.
    The tatters of what had been a promising career.
    There was only one escape.
    Just as there had been only one way out of her alcoholism.
    She had to trust Him.
    And herself.
    The only choice was suddenly clear in her mind as if it hadbeen written in fluorescent paint on the cabin wall. It was a choice that would hurt deeply, she was certain, and she was not sure she could survive it.
    Lord, help me to do it. Help me to be strong.
    Standing on shaky legs, she squeezed by the stream of boarding passengers. The flight attendant looked up in surprise.
    “Is there something you needed?” she asked.
    “I need my dog. I’m getting off this plane.”
    Bill pushed the truck so fast the movement rattled his teeth. On the way he phoned Crow and asked him to relay the situation to Rudley.
    “Is it wired?” Crow asked breathlessly. “Should we get the bomb squad again?”
    “She’s already moved it. I’ll be there in five more minutes and give you an update.”
    He disconnected as he thundered onto reservation property, ignoring the curious glance from a mechanic at the small garage. Of course Oscar would switch targets when Heather was gone. The only other person close to him, the only soul who mattered, was Aunt Jean.
    She’s strong, Bill. She can take care of herself.
    It was true. A white woman who came to South Dakota as a twenty-year-old, doing research for a book, Aunt Jean had moved to the reservation when Bill was just a boy, shortly after his mother died. She fell in love with the place and the people and became an adopted aunt to himself, his sister and a score of other kids just as surely as if they were blood. She was strong from her endless efforts in the garden and easily commanded her pack of three dogs, leaving no room to wonder who was in charge. She was also as good a shot with a rifle as Bill. Except for the limp left by her recent fall, she was hale and hearty for her sixty-seven years.
    It made him feel better to think of that as he tore off the main road down to the hollow where Aunt Jean’s trailer stood in the shade of a cluster of cottonwood trees. She was in the small fenced yard, tending the pumpkins in her garden, which glistened in the intense sunlight. As he got out of the truck, her three mixed-breed dogs barked at him until Aunt Jean corrected them. They settled on whipping their tails back and forth to express their excitement.
    He let himself in through the gate and wrapped his aunt in a hug, relief flooding through him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
    She laughed, tanned skin wrinkling into a million creases. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’ve never been hurt by an envelope yet. Come in.”
    “Where’s the envelope, Aunt Jean?”
    She led him into the trailer, which was cool and filled with the smell of pickled watermelon rind. Jars of the stuff lined the counter.
    “I’ll find it. Sit.” She handed him a glass of tea. “I saw the wanted posters the Tribal Rangers hung up. Oscar Birch the one who trashed your place?”
    Bill looked at her. “How did you know about