Chapter 22: Third Turnout

The district attorney called at noon, and Kurt put her on speaker on the hood of his truck.

"I have the card," she said. "I have the headset audio, the gate video, the voicemail, the radio tape and your lien recording."

"Is that enough?" I asked.

"Ms. Stauffer, I've been a prosecutor for nineteen years. It's the most complete file I've ever been handed by a stranger."

The pilot stood a little way off with his cap in his fist and looked at the road.

"Mr. Breckenridge was arrested at his mother's house twenty minutes ago," she said.

"The charges are fraud on the state, forgery, and criminal negligence resulting in death."

"His mother is charged with forgery. The notary has agreed to talk."

I put my hand over my mouth.

"He will be arraigned Monday. There is no bail he can reach, because the court froze his accounts."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank your grandmother's handwriting."

The line went dead.

Nobody said anything for a while.

Then the pilot cleared his throat.

"Ma'am. The seal's off the hangar. The county's signed my name as your operator."

He turned his cap over.

"If you want, I can bring her up the grade at five. She's yours. She should come to you."

I went to the barn and put on Pearl's cardigan.

I waited on the steps.

At five o'clock a sound came up the valley, low and then loud, a flat beat against the hills.

The white helicopter came over the ridge with the evening sun on its side and the sunflower painted big and yellow on its tail.

It did not pass.

It slowed and swung around.

It came down gently on the wide stretch of the third turnout, and the ash lifted around it.

I was already walking.

Kurt walked beside me and did not take my hand until I reached for his.

The rotor wound down.

The pilot climbed out and held the door.

I put my palm flat on the white side of the aircraft.

It was warm from the sun.

I stood at the third switchback of Cedar Grade, where I had knelt with my grandmother's head in my lap.

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