The director was silent for a moment. I looked out the window and could see the dark blue helicopter on its pad being towed out onto the tarmac.
‘Dr Scarpetta, what would you like us to do?’ Dr Ensor finally spoke, her voice tense and upset.
‘Did Carrie have a social worker? Someone in legal aid? Anyone she really talked to?’ I asked.
‘Obviously, she spent a fair amount of time with a forensic psychologist, but he isn’t on our staff. Mainly he’s there to evaluate and make recommendations to the court.’
‘Then she probably manipulated him,’ I said as I watched Lucy climb up on the helicopter’s skids and begin her preflight inspection. ‘Who else? Anyone she may have gotten close to?’
‘Her lawyer, then. Yes, legal aid. If you would like to speak to her, that can be arranged.’
‘I’m leaving the airport now,’ I said. ‘We should be landing in approximately three hours. Do you have a helipad?’
‘I don’t remember anyone ever landing here. There are several parks nearby. I’ll be happy to pick you up.’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary. My guess is we’ll land close by.’
‘I’ll watch for you, then, and take you to legal aid, or wherever it is you need to go.’
‘I would like to see Carrie Grethen’s ward and where she spent her time.’
‘Whatever you need.’
‘You are very kind,’ I said.
Lucy was opening access panels to check fluid levels, wiring, and anything else that might be amiss before we took to the air. She was agile and sure of what she was doing, and when she climbed on top of the fuselage to inspect the main rotor, I wondered how many helicopter accidents happened on the ground. It wasn’t until I had climbed up into the copilot’s seat that I noticed the AR-15 assault rifle in a rack behind her head, and at the same time, I realized the controls on my side had not been taken out. Passengers were not entitled to have access to the collective and cyclic, and the antitorque pedals were supposed to be cranked back far enough that the uninitiated did not accidentally push them with their feet.
‘What’s this?’ I said to Lucy as I buckled my four-point harness.
‘We’ve got a long flight.’
She cracked the throttle several times to make certain there was no binding and it was closed.
‘I realize that,’ I said.
‘Cross country’s a good time to try your hand at it.’
She lifted the collective and made big X’s with the cyclic.
‘Whose hand at what?’ I said as my alarm grew.
‘Your hand at flying when all you got to do is hold your altitude and speed and keep her level.’
‘No way.’
She pressed the starter and the engine began to whirr.
‘Yes, way.’
The blades began to turn as the windy roar got louder.
‘If you’re going to fly with me,’ my niece, the pilot and certificated flight instructor, said above the noise, ‘then I’d like to know you could help out if there was a problem, okay?’
I said nothing more as she rolled the throttle and raised the rpms. She flipped switches and tested caution lights, then turned on the radio and we put our headsets on. Lucy lifted us off the platform as if gravity had quit. She turned us into the wind and moved forward with gathering speed until the helicopter seemed to soar on its own. We climbed above trees, the sun high in the east. When we were clear of the tower and the city, Lucy began lesson one.
I already knew what most of the controls were and what they were for, but I had an extremely limited understanding of how they worked together. I did not know, for example, that when you raise the collective and increase power, the helicopter will yaw to the right, meaning you have to depress your left antitorque pedal to counter the torque of the main rotor and keep the aircraft in trim, and as your altitude climbs, due to the pulling up on the collective, your speed decreases, meaning you have to push the cyclic forward. And so on. It was like playing the drums, as best I knew, only in this instance I had to watch for dim-witted birds, towers, antennae, and other aircraft.