Warren left hours ago and I'm still at the caretaker's cottage thinking about everything he's told me. I've cleaned the entire place, re-laid the fires, emptied the fridge, loaded up the dirty sheets, made sure everything is locked and shutdown. But I'm still sitting here in that easy chair by the kitchen fire. I hear steps on the front porch, I know it's Brendan come to find me.
"Val?"
"I'm here, in the kitchen. He's gone."
He stomps his feet on the doormat before he comes in. "Why haven't you headed back to the Inn? Your sled is still sitting loaded by the door." He sits down on the hearth in front of me.
"No one is looking for the pilot," I tell him.
"No one?"
"Mm. He died in the crash. They found two corpses in what was left of the plane. He said there was no way anyone could have survived that. It was quite literally spread over the side of the mountain. Anyone telling us that someone survived it is suspect."
Brendan looks confused, "What does that mean?"
"It means I told him the guy in the basement is a refugee out of Boston who got lost on his way to Canada. I told him we aren't looking for trouble, just helping out a traveler who got lost on his way. He had me look through his book of wanted posters. Mr. Chisolm is not in that book."
"Well, that's good then, isn't it?"
"What if he was never on that plane?