Chapter 5 - FOLLOW THE PLANES
Avery read the message four times.
Marcus took the paper carefully from her hand.
“Planes?”
Henry moved beside him.
“What planes?”
Avery looked around the motel room.
Nothing.
No airport brochures.
No luggage tags.
No obvious clue.
Bobby, who had ignored everyone’s instructions and arrived behind Henry’s second security vehicle, stood in the doorway.
“Maybe she means an airport.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You were told to stay at the diner.”
“I was also told Gavin was a competent manager. We’ve established people are wrong.”
Under different circumstances, Avery would have laughed.
She turned back toward the room.
“Emma wrote this.”
“How do you know?” Henry asked.
“Ella's handwriting is neater.”
Henry stared at her.
Avery shrugged.
“They drew pictures at the hospital.”
Marcus was scanning the walls.
“If Celeste is planning to leave the state, commercial airports are risky. Missing children trigger alerts.”
Henry immediately pulled out his phone.
“I can have every private airfield within two hundred miles checked.”
Marcus nodded.
“Do it.”
Police searched the motel property.
A manager remembered Celeste.
She had rented Room 17 under a false name three weeks earlier.
Security cameras showed Dean arriving with the twins forty minutes after the courthouse crash.
Celeste arrived separately.
They remained only eighteen minutes.
Then they left in a dark green minivan.
No visible license plate.
Avery stood in the motel office watching the footage.
At one point Emma stumbled.
Dean grabbed her arm and yanked her upright.
Henry looked away.
Avery did not.
She made herself watch.
She wanted to remember exactly what fear looked like when adults decided children were possessions.
Marcus entered.
“We found something.”
He placed a printed map on the counter.
“There are seven private airfields close enough to fit the timeline.”
Henry pointed.
“My company uses Stanton Executive.”
“Too much security.”
“West County?”
“Twenty-four-hour tower.”
Avery stared at the map.
“What's here?”
She pointed to a tiny airplane symbol near a reservoir.
Marcus leaned in.
“Garrison Municipal.”
“Why is it smaller?”
“Mostly agricultural aviation. Private hangars. No tower overnight.”
Henry was already moving.
Then Avery noticed something.
“Wait.”
Beside the motel’s old cash register was a stack of local tourist pamphlets.
One advertised fall foliage flights.
Across the cover was a small blue airplane.
Avery picked it up.
On the back were four airfields.
One had been circled in pen.
Garrison.
The motel manager frowned.
“That wasn't like that before.”
Marcus's eyes sharpened.
“How do you know?”
“Because I restocked those this morning.”
Avery looked toward the hallway.
Someone had circled it recently.
She remembered Ella.
Careful Ella.
The girl who saved bread.
The girl who checked soup before eating.
The girl who thought three steps ahead because survival required it.
“Ella did it.”
Marcus nodded.
“Maybe.”
Avery pointed to the purple pen beside the guestbook.
The same shade as Emma’s crayon message.
“They’re leaving clues.”
Henry closed his eyes for a second.
“My girls.”
“No,” Avery said.
He looked at her.
“Grace’s girls.”
Henry's expression softened.
“Yes.”
They headed toward Garrison.
Halfway there, Marcus received an update.
“No flight plans filed.”
Henry looked frustrated.
“Private pilots don’t always file for local flights.”
“They would for an interstate route.”
“Unless they plan to land somewhere rural first.”
Avery sat in the back seat clutching Emma’s pendant.
“What happens October nineteenth?”
Nobody answered.
She looked at Henry.
“Gavin said Celeste had a deadline.”
Henry’s face changed slightly.
“You know.”
“I know what it might be.”
“What?”
Henry remained silent for several seconds.
“Grace created a trust.”
Avery waited.
“For the twins?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Henry looked out the window.
“Approximately sixty-four million dollars.”
Avery stared.
Bobby, in the vehicle behind them, would have said something inappropriate.
Avery simply said, “Oh.”
Henry continued.
“Grace inherited shares from her mother. She never touched most of them. Under the trust, the girls receive control at twenty-five.”
“So Celeste can’t access it.”
“Normally, no.”
“Normally?”
“Grace added provisions for medical care, education, housing, and guardianship expenses.”
Marcus looked back.
“How broad?”
“Too broad.”
Avery understood.
“A legal guardian can request money.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Potentially millions over the years.”
“But why tomorrow?”
Henry’s jaw tightened.
“Six months after Grace's death, the trustees conduct a permanent guardian certification.”
“October nineteenth.”
“Yes.”
“If Celeste is confirmed?”
“She gains enormous influence over distributions until the girls are adults.”
Avery felt sick.
“And if Henry gets custody before tomorrow?”
“She loses it.”
Marcus muttered something under his breath.
Now everything made sense.
The hiding.
The hunger.
The school avoidance.
Celeste did not want children.
She wanted signatures.
Control.
Money.
And she needed Emma and Ella physically under her guardianship when the certification occurred.
They reached Garrison Municipal at 8:42 p.m.
The main building was dark.
Two police units approached from the opposite road.
Marcus ordered everyone to remain inside until officers cleared the hangars.
Avery lasted forty-five seconds.
Then she saw the green minivan.
It was parked behind Hangar Six.
“There.”
Marcus looked.
“Stay here.”
He was out before she could respond.
Police moved toward the hangar.
Henry gripped the door handle.
Avery caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
He looked at her.
“You told me not to make the same mistake with Grace.”
Henry's breathing was heavy.
“Running into a hangar with police surrounding it would qualify.”
He stared at her.
Then slowly released the handle.
A loud bang came from inside.
Henry flinched.
Police shouted.
Another bang.
The hangar door began rising.
Marcus appeared, waving vehicles back.
A small twin-engine airplane was rolling forward.
Avery saw the cockpit.
Dean was flying.
Beside him sat Celeste.
And through one of the rear windows—
Emma.
Avery threw open the door.
Henry grabbed her.
“Avery!”
The airplane turned toward the runway.
Police vehicles moved to block it.
Dean accelerated.
One cruiser swerved.
The airplane’s wing clipped a maintenance cart and sent it spinning.
Emma’s face vanished from the window.
“STOP THEM!” Henry shouted.
Marcus ran alongside a patrol vehicle.
The plane continued.
Then suddenly the left engine coughed.
Once.
Twice.
The airplane slowed.
Dean tried again.
The engine sputtered.
The plane stopped twenty yards from the runway.
Police surrounded it.
Doors opened.
Celeste emerged screaming.
“You’re terrifying them!”
Avery almost admired the audacity.
Dean was pulled from the cockpit.
Officers opened the rear cabin.
Ella climbed out first.
She looked around wildly.
“Avery!”
Avery broke from Henry’s grip.
This time nobody stopped her.
Ella ran into her.
Avery dropped to her knees.
Emma came next.
Pale.
Sweating.
Weak.
But standing.
Henry remained several feet away.
He was crying.
Emma reached for him with one hand while holding Avery with the other.
Henry stepped forward.
The four of them stood together beneath the harsh airfield lights.
For one incredible moment, Avery thought it was over.
Then Ella whispered against her shoulder.
“Dean said they would kill Grandpa.”
Avery stiffened.
“What?”
Ella pulled back.
“He said tomorrow Grandpa was going to have an accident.”
Henry stopped breathing.
Marcus heard.
He turned toward Dean.
Dean was being pushed into a police car.
Marcus ran over.
Avery looked at Henry.
Henry looked confused.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Henry Hartwell.”
Silence.
His expression changed.
“Who is this?”
A mechanical voice came through loudly enough for Avery to hear.
“You should have left the children alone.”
The call disconnected.
Marcus returned.
“Get Mr. Hartwell into the vehicle.”
Henry looked toward him.
“Why?”
Marcus held Dean’s confiscated phone.
On the screen was a scheduled message.
A photograph.
Henry’s house.
Taken through a rifle scope.
Beneath it was one line.
OCTOBER 19 — 7:30 A.M.
Avery looked at the clock.
Less than eleven hours.
The twins had been rescued.
May you like
But whoever was behind Celeste had never been after only the trust.
Someone wanted Henry Hartwell dead.
