Page 30 of Cockpit
“Did you know he’s known for being quite the hero around these parts?”
“What do you mean?” I think of those kind eyes of his and try to imagine him in the role. Then I think of last night and how he stepped in and don’t doubt it for a second.
“There was an article I found buried a few pages in when I searched his name. Do you remember that rescue in the High Sierras that hit national news earlier this year? A rough snowstorm, high altitudes, those stranded hikers missing for almost a week?”
“I think I saw something about that on CNN. Didn’t a civilian fly into the storm to try to find them? Something about how he calculated they had gone the opposite direction the authorities thought—”
“That’s the one.”
“The guy who flew directly into the blizzard, found them, saved them, and flew them out. Holy shit . . .” My words trail off as realization dawns.
“He took the risk to save them. Yeah. That’s our Grayson.” She purses her lips.
“Then how come I didn’t find that when I looked him up?”
“That article and others never mentioned the pilot by name, but I was curious as to why it came up in my search. It couldn’t just be because he’s a pilot. So, I dug deeper and looked at more accounts of the rescue, and one of the comments on, like, the tenth article mentioned the rescuer’s name, one Grayson Malone. Then I called a friend in the know at the airfield, and he confirmed it. He said people around here have respected Grayson’s wish for privacy and leave the subject alone. He also directed me to the only interview Grayson gave on the situation. He wasn’t identified in it, but he said him finding the hikers had been a matter of circumstances. He had access to the right equipment and had the right skills and that anyone would have stepped in to save them if they could. That he didn’t consider himself a hero, and that no thank-yous were needed because he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”
“Huh.”
What is it with this man? How can he make me feel like a complete heel even when he isn’t around? No thank-yous were needed? He can risk his life flying in high altitudes to save random strangers from certain death, while I’m the asshole who was so annoyed with him and his arrogance that a simple thank you was a struggle to say.
Mr. Stoic definitely played me.
“It seems Mr. Malone is not fond of the spotlight or any of the accolades being a hero brings with it.”
“So it seems.”
“Well, you know what they say about heroes. A real hero doesn’t save to get attention; they save because it’s the right thing to do. It seems Grayson makes a habit of taking risks, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“That same friend told me Grayson’s been suspended from flying. I guess he bucked orders to ground his flight in a thunderstorm and tried to save an accident victim anyway. She grew up here. Reese Diller—”
“Dillinger,” I correct as my heart drops and I think of the bright eyes and infectious smile of my childhood acquaintance.
“Yes. Dillinger. Did you know her?”
“We were more acquaintances than anything. She was a few grades below me, but yeah . . . I knew her. She was a sweet girl.”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s then I realize Grayson would have known her more, might have even been close with her. It must have been hard on him not being able to save her. Then it hits me. “What company does he work for again?”
“Mercy-Life.”
“Mercy,” I murmur. The first time I’d spoken to him, he thought I was there to try to get a story out of him. I lean back in my chair and mull over her words as his staunch rejections of this contest rattle around inside my brain and dots start to connect. I’m a Thorton. My last name is synonymous with newspapers and magazines. Exploitation for headlines. People digging for a hot story. Perhaps he thinks I’m using the contest as a means to get an interview with him about Reese. No wonder Grayson wants nothing to do with me.
“Earth to Sidney?”
“Sorry. Yes.” I shake my head and refocus on the here and now. “How did you manage to get all this information when I have come up with nothing?”
“I have my ways.”
“Your ways?”
“Yep. I used to work for the Washington Post.”
She could have told me she used to be an astronaut, and I would have been less shocked.
