Escape To Sunset - Sharon Hamilton Page 0,44
job that needed to be done.
Aimee sat down on a wicker chair next to her, propping her feet up on the crosspiece in the railing. The sun was just setting.
“I thought when I was living in Oregon, with all that rain, that perhaps I’d embellished the golden sunset a bit. I figured it couldn’t possibly be as bright and beautiful as I remembered as a child. But I was wrong. It’s even more stunning than my memories and the colors are even brighter.”
“I know. Once you get some of that gulf sun in your hair, on your skin, in your eyes, I think it travels to your soul. You take a little piece of it with you forever. Almost haunts you, doesn’t it?” Aimee answered.
She remained quiet until Kiley developed the thoughts and words she wanted to use.
“That was Jason.”
“I figured as much.”
They were joined by Martel, who announced, “I think we need some wine right about now.”
Aimee called after her, “Tell Andy to hold off on dinner a bit. But we’ll be down shortly.”
“Sure thing.” Martel closed the glass behind her and the two women were alone again.
“Is it good news or…?”
“What I came over here for was to tell you guys I decided to go back to Portland. I’ll explain more when Andy’s here, because Jason actually told me to make sure I included him.”
“You figure it’s safer now?”
“Actually, it’s not. But I just promised I wouldn’t fly back there until Jason could go with me.”
“Makes sense.”
Martel was back with a bottle of red wine and three glasses. “Your man is not a happy camper and he said if we weren’t down there in thirty minutes, he’d eat by himself and we could go out for a burger.”
“Oh, Lord.” Aimee shook her head. “He’s a creature of habit. Likes everything spelled out. He has rules for everything. Stews about most things and stubborn as they come.”
“Oh, that’s Damon to a T,” said Martel as she poured their glasses. “To the magic of Sunset Beach!” They touched glasses after repeating the toast.
“Mmm. That’s good,” said Kiley. “I could use a little magic right now.”
“So you were telling us you wanted to go back to Portland?”
“I called the reporter who was doing work for a followup article, working with my editor, and now she’s gone missing. We have officially four missing girls, and now this reporter. But I’ve uncovered evidence there are many more. Maybe as many as ten.”
“A serial killer?” Martel asked.
“No, it’s a human trafficking ring. Very organized, in fact, probably professionally managed, and it has important ties to local government. The piece was to hit the paper on Friday, but my editor printed it early. He felt pressure and was afraid he’d be asked to bury the story. But that put Carmen, the staffer we added to the team, in danger, I think. I was having her follow up on some of the interviews I’d done, to see if we could get some quotes and perhaps their cooperation. It’s one thing to talk to a reporter anonymously. Quite another to get involved in a corruption scandal. That’s where this is all headed.”
“Just what did you expect to achieve going back? Didn’t you say you lost your cat, and they vandalized your car?”
“Yes. I think those were attempts to warn me. I thought maybe the article would take some of the pressure off, but it looks like Carman may have walked right into it. I’m worried. I wanted to go do some digging in person, see if I could help find her. I know right where to go too.”
Martel was puzzled. “I’m not understanding this, Kiley. Like you told us at the bonfire, once everything came out in the paper, wouldn’t that begin to shed light on what was going on? You were thinking the public would demand that investigation.”
“I did. And I think that will happen. But I can’t just sit here while I’ve put Carmen in danger.”
“Perhaps,” Aimee said, her finger pointing to the sky. “You don’t know for sure you did.”
“Well, yes. I thought we had a couple of days to do a little more research before the final piece was published. And then we could turn over the complete package to the authorities. Now that won’t happen. If something’s happened to Carmen, it will be my fault.”
“Man, you’re awfully hard on yourself,” said Aimee. “I thought your editor was the one who made the assignments.”
“I overruled him. I made him take Carmen. She didn’t