Detective Summers tried hard not to get her hopes up. A report filtered through the grapevine of a float plane landing and taking off from desolate lakes in Minnesota at night. All indications from informants pointed to drug running, with a truck meeting the plane during the night. As of yet, the plane had not been identified, but area farmers’ descriptions matched the missing Beaver, down to the colors and markings.
Discreet inquiries of Jed’s friends and classmates had not brought up any hints of drug involvement nor of any sort of illegal activity on Jed’s part, but he would not be the first to hide something of the sort. Most criminals talked their way into jail, or someone they knew did it for them. Sooner or later, it came out if those in law enforcement were listening.
Chief Washington permitted her to travel to Minnesota, even though it was out-of-state and out of her jurisdiction. She was to liaise with the local authorities and possibly assist with their surveillance. Nothing about her travel and participation fitted normal protocol, but Chief Washington was as anxious to find the missing teenagers as was Detective Summers. He still met James Romson at least twice a week at Kiwanis and at other civic functions, besides speaking on the phone at least once a week. He hated to look James in the eye and shake his head. Something had to show up sooner or later.
Detective Summers looked at her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Over four hours of driving remained, and driving was not something she enjoyed. She wanted to be there, not drive there. She was tempted to turn on her lights and go faster. And she could probably get away with it. After all, police officers generally gave other officers a little leeway, and with the lights flashing it would look official. But she knew it wasn’t right, and with her cruise control on she seemed to creep along with everyone else. Sometimes, ethics and integrity just got in the way.