Escape To Sunset - Sharon Hamilton Page 0,4

move, both her parents passed.

Her work was taking so much of her time that she even lost touch with her brother, Sam. Now, asking for Sam’s help, would only land him in the same kind of trouble Kiley was in. Even though they weren’t close, she wouldn’t dream or wish this on anyone. She’d decided not to let him in on what she’d uncovered.

Kiley checked her bearings then slipped across the alleyway that separated the first row of beachside cottages with the thicker row of larger homes that bordered Gulf Boulevard. These places occasionally were two and three stories, unlike the bungalows on the gulf side. Smaller shacks were torn down so that huge homes could replace them, all built so they would also have ocean views.

Every dog bark made her jump. Every door that slammed sent her reeling for cover under a tree or beside a fence or hedge.

Gulf Boulevard was busy this time of night, people going to and from dinners or beginning the evening bar hop scene. She could only risk being seen for short periods of time, so she crossed the busy street and entered the subdivision of houses on the canal side of the peninsula. These homes were larger still and away from beach traffic, huge mansions with well-manicured garden areas that would rival a botanical garden. Some of these homes had names affixed the iron gates that kept the occupants safe inside, as if they were huge ocean-going vessels.

She followed the roadway, walking around parked cars and staying in the shadows away from the bright streetlamps occasionally illuminating the area. Sometimes, a car would come from behind, and she would dip inside a gated area as if returning home. Gradually the street veered to the left and ended in a cul-de-sac.

She could see the shivering waters of the canal outstretched behind the large homes. Beyond the canal were lights from a neighboring island, including a strip of beach shops and outdoor restaurants. Music wafted through the night air. She could even smell freshly barbecued seafood.

The cul-de-sac was a dead end for her, so she crossed the street and returned one block then meandered through the subdivision to the first intersection, where she turned. She wandered back-and-forth until she found herself at Gulf Boulevard again but several blocks north of the beach access.

She pushed the button for the pedestrian crossing and quickly traversed Gulf Boulevard, slipping into the first beach access alleyway that appeared. She heard the sounds of people having dinner or gathering outside their houses, enjoying fire pits or having cocktails on the patio.

She kept her eyes peeled for anything that resembled the huge hulking form of the strange man. She’d developed a sixth sense about being followed over the past few months, and tonight was no different, even though she saw no evidence. Her senses were still on high alert and her heart continued racing due to the close encounter.

After winding her way through the driveways and small alleyways connecting various properties to the beach access, she was at last at her front door. Rummaging through her beach bag, she searched for her keys despite the straw hat stuffed tightly there scratching her fingers. She quickly unlocked the front door, closed it quietly so as not to attract attention, and turned the deadbolt, feeling some semblance of safety.

Tossing her beach bag to the side, she heard all the contents scoot over the tiled floor: her cell phone, her lipstick and sunscreen, her book and the serrated kitchen knife she’d put in there for self-defense. She quickly crossed the room and checked the sliding glass door to the sand dunes and ocean beyond, locking it.

At last she began to feel safe. She slumped into her living room couch, propped her feet up, and tried to relax, inhaling long deep breaths through her mouth then exhaling slowly through her nose. She’d been taught this to avoid panic attacks dogging her recently. After several minutes of growing calm, she poured herself a tall glass of ice water, pulled a kitchen chair up to the sliding glass door, and watched for evidence of anyone coming toward her or looking at her from the outside.

She found none.

Kiley thought about what had happened. She’d been watching the sunset when the big man tossed dust and ashes to the ocean. At first she didn’t understand what he was doing, taking him for a homeless crazy tossing sand. But then she realized he had poured—no, thrown—someone’s remains into the surf.