Death Through the Looking Glass Read Free Page B

water at full throttle. As it pulled past the town pier, Lyon tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the right.
    â€œStraight out from here!” he yelled over the roar of the engines.
    The boat swerved in a tight arc toward a new heading that took it directly away from the pier. The violent turn threw Lyon back against the seat as Rocco, standing next to Damon, gripped the windshield with both hands.
    â€œHow far out?” Damon yelled.
    â€œCut your speed at three thousand yards. We don’t want to cut him in half if he’s in the water.”
    The bow rose and tide swells slapped the hull as the boat swept straight away from the dock. “Are you sure of your bearing?”
    â€œThe bearing, yes, but it’s hard to estimate distance over water. He went down directly in front of me when I was over the pier. But the sun was in my eyes.”
    The engine whine and hull slap decreased markedly as Damon pushed the twin throttles to a one-third-ahead position. Rocco indicated by hand signals that Lyon should search on the port side, he on the starboard, while Damon’s position at the wheel would allow him to scan ahead. They were silent as they peered across the water, searching for a swimmer, an oil slick, or any sign of wreckage that would mark the small plane’s grave.
    After some minutes Damon turned to Lyon: “We’re pretty far out. Suppose I go to port a hundred yards and sweep back toward shore?”
    â€œFine,” Lyon replied and pointed. “We’re going to have help. That looks like a Coast Guard cutter.”
    The cutter pulled alongside the motorboat, and while her commanding officer and Lyon held a shouted interchange, the two boats were joined by a Lantern City police launch. The cutter dropped a red marker buoy at the spot Lyon felt was the closest to the plane’s crash point. They divided the area into grids and began a series of careful search patterns.
    After two hours of fruitless search, a police officer in the launch signaled for Damon to head back to his dock. They turned back, followed by the police boat, as the cutter continued its methodical search.
    As soon as they reached the dock, and before Damon had an opportunity to secure the mooring lines, Rocco stepped to the pier and strode toward the house. After the boat was docked, Lyon found him in the living room, hunched over the phone.
    â€œThis is Chief Herbert. Let me speak to the airport manager.… That you, Gary? Rocco Herbert here. No, I don’t want a flying lesson. I need information. You know Tom Giles’s plane?… A Piper with a crazy paint job.…” Rocco looked toward Lyon, who nodded affirmatively. “Who took it up?… Giles called you yesterday and told you to have it gassed and ready for takeoff.… Did it have a radio?… We think it might have gone down off Lantern City.” He slowly hung up and turned to Lyon.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œNo radio. He always flew visual flight rules. It took off yesterday afternoon.”
    â€œYesterday afternoon?”
    They both turned as a police officer standing by the doorway cleared his throat. Lyon recognized Lantern City’s police chief, Will Barnes. He was a near replica of Rocco, although in a smaller version: a big man with massive shoulders and closely cropped hair.
    â€œYou still don’t wear a gun,” Rocco said. “Or does your mother make you leave it at home?”
    â€œAt least I’m not a cat freak, like certain cops I could name.”
    â€œDid you find the plane?” Lyon asked impatiently.
    â€œNope. You Lyon Wentworth?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe’ve put divers down near the buoy marker. Are you sure it went down there?”
    â€œNot positive, Chief. But it’s the best estimate I could give the Coast Guard.”
    Barnes sat in a straight chair and took a small pad from his breast pocket. “I’d like to get a statement from you, Mr.