That did concern her. “What’s the story?”
“She’s from Ecuador, very small for her age, not even five foot. We’re guessing that if she was abducted, like the other victims you discovered, the kidnapper mistook her for a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“When did this happen?”
“See, I knew you’d be interested in covering this. But you can’t do it from Florida.”
“Humor me, Corbin. Just a few of the details.”
“It happened the day before yesterday. She was living with a local attorney in town…”
“Who?”
“Miles Benson. Do you know anything about him?”
“Nope. What kind of law does he practice?”
“Well, that’s why we think it could be an immigration issue. He is an immigration attorney. Maybe she didn’t want any hassle from authorities. Maybe she was unhappy in the household and had no one to turn to. She worked as an au pair for the children. But she cooked, cleaned and drove them to all their school things.”
“And the attorney called it in?”
“His wife did, yes. According to her, the lady just disappeared.”
“Just like the other ones. You know this is connected, Corbin.”
“Well, then you’re going to love this. She also has long black hair and typically wore it in a ponytail, like many of the other girls.”
She thought about it before she replied. “Corbin, I’m still not coming back there.”
He sighed over the phone. “I was afraid you’d say that. I can’t say as I blame you. You still have files here. Can I assign them?”
“Go ahead.”
“And you’ll get me my story in time for Friday, right?”
“Yes, I will.” She paused. “Who are you going to put on the story about the missing girl?”
“Martin.”
“No, you need a woman on it. The mother has to be interviewed and separately. Are the police involved?”
“Of course they are! This story made headlines this morning.”
“Because it’s number four.”
“According to you, at least number four.”
“Yes, probably more like ten.” She considered the staff at the paper. “Why don’t you put Carmen on it? She speaks Spanish. She can talk to the family of the girl back home.”
“Family? According to Mrs. Benson, this girl had no relatives. She was brought up by an agency.”
“But she had friends, people Carmen could interview. Nobody’s going to trust Martin.”
“But he’s ten times the reporter, Kiley. Carmen’s more interested in the political stuff, the demonstrations, social justice causes.”
“Which would be perfect for Martin. He can get in people’s faces. This needs to be handled with delicacy. She’d be talking to people who don’t want to tell their story for fear they’ll be sent back home. And I like the idea of a woman asking all those personal questions, not a man, Corbin.”
“Bingo. Okay, I agree. It’s probably an immigration issue. But I’ll put Carmen on it for a few days and see if she digs anything up.”
“Tell her we can talk via Skype if she wants.”
“I’ll tell her. Not sure she’ll be very thrilled.”
“Just because we don’t hear about all the suffering that goes on with these women, with children smuggled into the U.S. against their will, doesn’t mean it isn’t a huge story. Not as juicy as a strike or demonstration. This stuff is more underground, hidden. And it’s just plain evil. If my story does what I think it will do, and I have to stay here for a few more weeks, Carmen’s going to have all the follow-up. It’s a great opportunity for her. With her help, all the little loose ends will be tied up, and we’d have developed a huge case for the police.”
“And not something you want?”
“It won’t bring back my cat. It won’t bring back my peace of mind when I walk out into the dark parking lot downtown. I’m not doing it for recognition. I’m doing it for the women. And right now, with all those stories, I’m too radioactive. Carmen will do a much better job finishing it.”
“What about your apartment?”
“Megan’s boyfriend is moving in. That was already in the works. I was going to have to move out anyway. I’m just giving her all the furniture and household stuff. She can hold everything else for me until I return.”
“So what do I tell people, Kiley?”
“Tell them I’m on a writing retreat. That part is even true.”
“And when they ask me where?”
“Tell them Chicago or Cincinnati. Don’t mention Florida, please.”
“Alright. Now, if you don’t get that story in, I’m going to cut back your salary, Kiley. Don’t play games with me, okay?”
“This is not a game, Corbin.”
“Are you going to give me a forwarding address?”
“Nope. Anything you need to send, you can email to me. My check is on automatic deposit.”
“Well, are you having a good time, at least? On the beach somewhere?”
“Don’t assume anything. And why would you care?”
“Come on, Kiley, why don’t you trust me? Don’t you think someone should know where you are?”
“There are people who know where I am.”
“Really, who?”
“Look, Corbin, we agreed I was going to disappear for a while. That way when anybody asks you where I am, you don’t have to lie.”
She checked the time and realized she’d been on the line too long. Somewhere she’d read that anything over three minutes could be traceable, even with a burner cell.
“I’m going to sign off now. I’ll call you in a couple of days. You can email me the pictures, and I’ll take a look to see if I recognize her, okay? And have Carmen call me if she wants some background information, some of the things I’ve been working on. There’s a new shelter I ran across that I want her to check out”
He gave no objection.
Kiley showered, making the conscious decision not to open her laptop until she was ready to write. She fixed a light breakfast, made coffee, and walked outside on the sugary white sand beach in front of her bungalow.
This place is worth every penny!
She’d paid double the rental amount to be right on the beach. It wasn’t just the view she liked, it was the fact that the constant sound of the water lapping on sand drowned out all the other neighborhood noise and some traffic on Gulf Boulevard. She took the lease for three months and had to pay it up front. It cost nearly what it cost her to live for a whole year in their converted artist’s flat in the trendy warehouse district of Portland. Though she had to share, that space was huge, nearly three times the size of this cottage.
She intended to stay the entire three months, since the agency made it clear there would be no refund.
With her coffee mug, she walked out amongst the early morning crowd. She’d noticed already that the people gathering for sunrise were considerably different from the sunset crowd. Kiley loved both times but was probably partial to sunsets. Nothing in Portland, even before or after a big rainstorm, looked even vaguely similar.
She began scanning for interesting shells and soon came upon the place where she’d sat last night, recognizing the divots her feet had made in the now-warm sand. As if retracing her steps while investigating for clues, she sat in the exact same location, even placing her feet into the craters of sand.
There were several pelicans soaring over the calm waters this morning. After becoming more interested in a particular area, they would fly up twenty or thirty feet and then dive into the water, smashing their foreheads against the water’s surface. Her mother told her they had extra bone in their skulls for this very reason. The awkward snow-white bird floated along the surface for a few seconds, securing and probably eating part of the fish he’d caught. Then he took off toward land, bringing breakfast to his young and his mate.
She studied the beach people, devoid of children at the present time. Gr
oups of colorful joggers drifted past her as she sat and enjoyed the morning. Sipping her coffee, she prepared to go inside and work on her deadline, her spirits brightened. Kiley could almost envision a day when she could finally relax and enjoy the beach community of her childhood.
She thought about the plaque she’d brought with her.
The beach heals everything. The message hit her right in the middle of her chest. She could feel the sheer terror this poor young woman was going through. If she was still alive, and that was a big if, she’d be locked up, confined to a cage somewhere. She’d be defenseless, probably naked, the end of her suffering beginning to be the one thing she’d most desire. The girl was a long way from the home of her childhood and probably convinced no one was even interested in looking for her.
Kiley allowed only a sliver of that fear to slip in, and then she shut off those thoughts. Given the choice of living in a cage or being killed, she wasn’t sure which option she could face.
Maybe I should just stay here forever.
Chapter 5
“Hey, Jason, Kyle told me you were out here. How’s it hangin’?” barked the voice of Andy Carr, one of his Brothers from SEAL Team 3 in Coronado.
“I’m good. I’m good. That’s right. You’re detached now. Are you here?”
“Almost detached. Waiting for the paperwork. Hell yes, I’m here.”
“You bought a little place here,” Jason said into his cell. “How close are you to Sunset Beach?”
“Fuck you, Jason. That’s where I’m living, man.”
“I apologize then. I could have had you join me when I freed Thomas.”
Andy cleared his throat. “I was partly calling about that. So you did the deed, then?”
“Last night, at dusk.”
Neither man said anything for a few minutes. Jason watched a young, sunburned red-headed boy of about ten skim the flat surf on a boogie board strapped to his ankle.
“I’m sorry I missed it. But I’m glad you gave him a proper sendoff. Thanks for doing that.”
“Yup. It’s what we do.” He was surprised to experience a tear slipping down his cheek. He flicked it away with his thumb and forefinger.
“So where at Sunset are you staying? If I’d have had half a brain, I would have insisted you stay with us.”
“I’m slightly south. St. Pete’s.”
“Ah, man. You’re paying nosebleed rates. How long are you staying?”
“I was thinking about five, six days.”
“Well, that settles it. Bring all your gear and come on over. Don’t argue, ’cause Aimee will kick your butt. Just check out and come on. You’re like five, ten minutes away at high traffic.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“God, Jason. I feel totally like a stoned teenager to have missed what you were doing. I probably even saw you walking down the beach, and it just never registered, man.”
“No worries. I knew you had a place nearby. It was cool the way it worked out. It was just him and me. Like it always was.” Jason decided to leave out his conversations with Thomas from inside the urn or the words of his ancestors. Andy would never understand things like this.
“You lie well, Jason. Now get your stuff, and Aimee and I will give you the grand tour. You probably got sick of hearing me talk about it.”
Jason chuckled.
“It’s right on the beach. Probably not as nice as Hawaii, but she and I make a pretty good team, and we’re thinking of making the arrangement permanent.”
“Thought you were going up to Little Creek.”
“I am. Team 4 is deployed right now, so I have a little time before we re-hook up.”
“Where is their theater?”
“Oh, it’s all over the place. They’ve been doing some stuff in South America and the Caribbean. Mexico. I’m hoping it will be a good fit. They lost their senior medic a year ago evacuating some embassy staff and friendlies in Venezuela. Everyone on that squad is new, so Kyle wants me to push it and grab that job. He’s tight with their LPO, Peterson.”
“Good. Well, it sounds like you’ve got a plan. I liked Aimee that one time I met her at the party.”
“Quit talking and get over here, Jason. I’ll start fixing lunch.”
The clerk at the front desk grilled him about his desire to check out early. “Did you find another place discounting their rooms? There’s a lot of that going on. I have authorization to match any deal they offered you.”
“No, sir. I ran into a buddy, and he won’t take no for an answer. I knew he was in the area, but he called me just now, and he’s insisting. Sorry, man.”
“Well, that I can’t match. But I will do this for you. I won’t charge you an early cancellation fee if you promise to give us a try next time you’re out here. How’s that?”
“More than fair. Done deal.”
Jason held the slip of paper he’d written the address on in his right hand, steering the Hummer with his left. In less than five minutes, he was slowly driving down a narrow alleyway over white sand and crushed shells. He saw Andy standing outside a garage door with a couple of beers in his hands.
The house had recently been painted a coral-red color with off-white trim. New windows had been installed on the second and third floors. A concrete mixer and some tools were propped against the other garage door. Bags of concrete were stacked several high.
Andy insisted on handing Jason a beer first, and then they hugged. He peered into the truck. “Where’s your stuff?”
“Just a duffel in the back. No firepower.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I’m packin’, just didn’t bring any of my long guns.” Jason was quick to correct Andy’s misconception. He didn’t know anyone who didn’t travel armed. Most of the SEAL wives and girlfriends did as well. Where it was illegal to carry, they were more careful. But it didn’t change their behavior one bit.
Jason hooked the duffel over his shoulder and presented Andy with a bottle of wine he’d bought at the bar at the hotel.
“I know jack about wine, but they told me it was good,” Jason said.
Andy tucked it under his arm and showed the way to a new glass front door. Once inside, the faint smell of paint and other odors stubbornly clung to the air.
“So, we knocked out the ceiling here and made this catwalk with landings going up to the second and third floor rooms.”
Jason admired the woodwork. Bleached and tumbled by the ocean, lightly sanded and varnished with a clear coat, the finish taking on the color of driftwood. He smoothed his fingers over the handrail and spindles made from pieces of wood in varying sizes.
“I like the way this feels. This almost looks like driftwood,” he said.
“Well, it kinda is. Everything in here is recycled, except for the windows and the roof and some of the hardware. Even some of that came from a salvage yard. They find all sorts of shit after those hurricanes. People go along and collect all this stuff, throw away the garbage, and clean up and re-sell some of the metal, tile, and wood. Lots of wood.”
The pattern on the handrails was totally random, some pieces laying at an angle, some vertical, and others horizontal, which reminded Jason of the old Hawaiian plantation designs he’d seen at museums growing up. Interspersed here and there were rusted pieces from the insides of machinery. They’d used gears, car parts, pieces from the backs of wooden chairs, and metal railings, all making an eclectic patchwork design. One panel even held an old rusty hand saw. On the second floor was a cozy platform with an overstuffed couch placed to take advantage of the ocean view. There appeared to be two bedrooms on that floor, and following the stairs up to the third floor, Jason guessed it was a master suite that covered the entire space.
One side of the living room had a recycled glass and metal garage door opening to the beach and ocean beyond. With chains on either side, the door would roll up and could be secured there, exposing the living room directly to the outside.
“Where did you guys find this place?�
�� Jason asked.
“Actually, Aimee found it. I’ll let her tell you the story. We just put a little down, and did a lease option. We’re using the cash to do the work, and then we’ll get a loan to cash the former owner out.”
“So I guess you’re staying, then.” Jason noted that he’d never seen Andy so happy.
“Fuckin’ A. Nothing could tear me away from this place. I’ll fly up to Little Creek, but I’ll be back here every chance I can. I’ll be one of those one and dones.
“You impress me, brother.” Jason said, taking a long drag on his beer. “Going all domestic and only after one deployment.”
“I have over three years left. But, when you meet the right woman, it changes you. So it’s not my fault!” Andy was grinning, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “You remember Cory Phillips?”
“Yeah I’ve met him a couple of times.” Word had spread quickly about all of Cory’s problems, and Jason thought he’d been booted out.
“Cory grew up here. I think he knew Thomas.”
“No kidding? Where is Cory now? He’s on Team 8, right?” He was trying to be polite and show some respect.
“Four. He was four. I’ll be joining up with his old team. Kyle helped set it up and said they were a good group. Anyway, Cory’s coming here for a couple of days. You’ll get to see him. He’s been in San Antonio at the burn center.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear about that. How bad is it?” Cory’s battle with drugs, alcohol, and gambling, as well as other vices were legendary, but he didn’t want to add credence to the rumors. Jason hoped his injuries weren’t major.
“Not a patient. He’s taking the burn course rotation. It’s a one-year billet like the long medic course. Then he’ll probably re-engage with Team 4. It came at the right time. Cory pulled things out at the last minute. He sounds great on the phone.”
Andy looked up and spotted Aimee coming through the front door.
“Who sounds great?” she asked. She gave him a big smile.
She was carrying groceries, so Jason scurried toward her, took the two brown bags from her arms and set them on the kitchen counter. Aimee thanked him and approached Andy.
Escape To Sunset: One Night Stand Romance-Hiding From The Mob (Sunset SEALs Book 4) Page 4
