Part 11 (1/2)
”Don't go looking for problems. Let's just find out what they saw.”
”How did Pirelli find out about Newsome at the hospital anyway? It isn't like there's a hotline set up for tracking pa.s.sengers from the flight.”
”He's got folks monitoring calls going into the local police and emergency lines,” Suter said.
”An NTSB investigator tapping the local cops? That sounds odd. He's not really NTSB, is he?”
”Actually he is. But you could say he's other things as well.”
”I guess those doc.u.ments I signed don't ent.i.tle me to know what those things might be.”
”You guess right.”
Jill O'Donnell brushed blond bangs off her forehead, and smoothed her navy jacket and skirt in one motion as she stood on the far side of the bed when Suter and Bohannon walked into her husband's private room. Apart from a chrome bed railing and the florescent tube light mounted on the wall over the bed's wooden headboard, the room could have been part of a suite in a nice hotel. Mauve drapes covered the windows, and tasteful artwork hung from the walls. Bohannon almost tripped, stepping from the linoleum-floored hallway on to the carpet in the room.
The head of Peter Newsome's bed was slightly elevated, but he appeared to be asleep, on his side curled around a sizable lump under the covers.
”Are you Mr. Suter?” she said, looking tired.
”Yes, ma'am. Special Agent Suter. This is Detective Bohannon.”
She looked back at her husband. ”We've been through so much this past week with the accident and everything going on in our lives.”
”Yes, ma'am. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
”Yes. Let's step out into the hall so we don't wake him.”
”No, that's okay. I'm awake.” Peter Newsome lifted himself and rubbed his eyes. ”You guys can talk in here.”
”We just have a few questions about the flight and anything you might have seen.”
The young woman sat on the edge of her husband's bed, running her hand through his unruly hair. ”We saw a red-headed boy running toward the back of the plane. He carried this strange orb-looking thing that filled the plane with spinning light. It was very disorienting. Two girls, older teens, followed him. I think they might have been twins or sisters. They looked a lot alike. One was a little more dressed up with a skirt and jacket. The other wore jeans.”
”Can you describe these girls?”
”With all the lights and panic, it was hard to tell. They were both, maybe, medium height, not real tall. I would guess brown hair. It was a little long and wavy. Not permed or anything, just a natural wave to it. The cuts were a little different, but both were longish, shoulder length.”
”Were they thin, fat, how old?”
”I would guess sixteen, seventeen at the most. Trim, not model skinny. Definitely not fat.”
”So this boy. How old was he?”
”Definitely younger. Probably a teen too but younger, still a little boyish looking.”
”You said these girls were following him. Were they chasing him, or were they just going to the back of the plane with him?”
”I'm not sure.”
”This...o...b..the boy carried, did you get the impression it was some kind of explosive? Could it have been what caused the accident?”
”I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. It produced an incredible amount of light. It was almost blinding, so bright it filled the cabin. I didn't get the impression it was dangerous per se, just disorienting.”
”Did you see what happened to this...o...b..”
”It looked like they were struggling with it or over it. The girls may have been trying to take it from the boy. There was a blinding flash of light, and all h.e.l.l broke loose. The cabin decompressed, and the plane went into a dive. I think by that time, we were on our way back to Portland.”
”Did you see the orb after that, when the plane was going down or after the crash?”
”No. I don't remember anything after that until I was in the water.”
”Have you ever seen these girls before?”
”No. Never.”
”How about you, Mr. Newsome?”
”Jill saw a lot more than I did. She likes to sit on the aisle. I was in the middle seat and didn't see any of that. I heard some of it, but I didn't see it,” he said.
”Did you see this...o...b..”
”No. I saw the light in the cabin, but not where it came from.”
”So you never saw this...o...b..yourself?”
”No. Like I said, she was on the aisle.”
They thanked the couple and stepped into the hall. Suter's phone rang, and he stepped into an empty waiting area for some privacy. Bohannon waited at a nurse's station next to the elevators. A bing toned, and the elevator doors slid open to reveal the older doctor Bohannon had met Sat.u.r.day.
”Detective Bohannon. I see you're visiting our patient from this weekend,” he said, leaning on the counter.
”Yes. His wife called and had some information related to our investigation,” Bohannon said.
”What is the nature of your investigation? Can you say?”
”Not really. Why do you ask, Dr., ah...?”
”Samuelson. Paul Samuelson. After he was tranquilized, we examined Mr. Newsome.”
”And?”
”Normally it would be inappropriate to discuss a patient's personal medical information, but you're already aware of some of the anomalies related to his case. And, to be honest with you, I think I should tell someone about what we found. First, you must agree to keep this in the utmost confidence. This information cannot be traced back to me.”
”Okay, Doctor. What did you find?”