Ghostrider by M.L. Buchman

Ghostrider

Ghostrider (Miranda Chase Book 4) by M.L. Buchman
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 3.4 MB

An AC-130J “Ghostrider”—the latest variant of America’s most lethal aerial gunship—goes down hard in the Colorado Rockies. Except the data doesn’t match the airframe.

Air-crash savant, and high-functioning autistic, Miranda Chase leads her NTSB team in to investigate. But what they uncover reveals a far greater threat—sabotage.

If she can’t solve the crash in time, a new type of war will erupt. One far too close to home which threatens to shatter her team.

Holly was refusing to give up wearing her beloved Matildas soccer team hat until Mike teased her about not wanting to be a team player. That seemed to be a rather unfair assessment in Miranda’s opinion, but it worked and Holly changed hats—only after she punched Mike’s arm.

Jeremy had simply reached into his big field pack and pulled out his own hat very similar to the ones from HeliSee, though without their mountain peak logo plastered around the crown in garish tie-dye colors.

Holly yanked it off his head. “I have to wear one of these ridiculous things? Then so do you.” And she slapped a HeliSee hat onto his head. Then she turned and spun Jeremy’s hat away like a Frisbee. Mike sprinted about ten steps, jumped up gracefully, and snagged it from high in the air. Even as he was landing, he twisted and spun the hat through the air back to Jeremy, who caught it and tucked it away.

The pilot was shaking his head. “That. That’s the kind of thing you don’t want to be doing.”

“Used to live in Denver. Skied up here plenty of times,” Mike looked unworried as he rejoined them.

“And where do you live now?” the pilot shot back.

“About thirty feet above sea level with the rest of us,” Holly answered for him.

The guy just shook his head, then shaded his eyes despite the silvered aviators and looked up.

Miranda had already noted the bright spark of an incoming flight.

“That’ll be the rest of your crew.”

“But my team is already here.”

The pilot shrugged at her response and then began his preflight inspection of the helicopter. Again, the professionalism showed in his care with each detail. She wasn’t familiar with the exact procedures of the AgustaWestland Trekker’s preflight and caught up with him.

“Does the preflight checklist include a torque check of the swash plate bolts?” As that’s what the pilot was doing.

“No, lady. But it’s my company and I do a lot of my own mechanicking. What do you care as long as it’s right?”

“I’m considering whether or not that would be a good addition to recommend. Should the FAA mandate that the procedure be included for all rotorcraft preflight checklists?”

“And you have that kind of power?” He moved to the tail rotor and actually ran a hand along the front and back edge of each blade rather than merely inspecting it visually.

“I do.”

He turned to look directly at her for the first time, raising his eyebrows above his mirrored aviators.

She never understood why the truth always seemed so surprising to people.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes—all she saw was the twinned reflection of herself with the rather garish hat—she found it disconcerting. So instead she looked up at the approaching airplane above his right shoulder.

“Does it need to be so bright?”

He followed the direction of her gaze. “That plane?”

“This hat.”

She could feel his eyes return to her, then shift upward to inspect the logo above her forehead. He grimaced. “My wife’s design.”

“The plane is not very bright. I surmise that it’s painted matte Air Force-gray similar to the aircraft that delivered my team. An Army-tan plane would have a somewhat higher albedo.”

“Coast Guard would be the brightest.”

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