Carl talked with one of the guys, got to park his truck inside an empty hangar, got a key to the lock. The guy said, “If I’m not here when y’all...get back, just leave the key on the floor. I’ll get it later.”And... “What kinda plane’s comin’ to get you?”“Pilatus PC-12,” I said. “You’re gonna like the pilot, and she gives free tours.”“Oh yeah?” the old guy said. “What’s the deal?”“Better I should let you see for yourself.” I smiled. “Trust me.”He looked at Carl. “What she said. Good. Especially since a few weeks ago, they finally found my plane in the gulf. The fucking two-by-four I wedged under the yoke was still stuck there! Of all the fucking luck.So they knew I wasn't dead, just 'disappeared.' Most media pundits had jumped on the idea that I was somewhere in South America, sipping margaritas with a bevy of mamacitas on the beach. I hoped my own family knew me well enough to know that was a stupid idea. I was just dreading the day when a stretch limo with Tim or Samantha. More

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