I promise I’m not a reporter. I’ll see you Friday.
She hit send and turned to Peter. “A hotel bar? That’s a bit worrisome.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said. “I’ll hang out at a table in the corner.”
Gwen shook her head with disbelief. “This is amazing. He obviously knows something.”
Peter sat back. “Judging by his messages, I don’t think he’d be keen to talk to either of us if he knew about the book.”
“True,” Gwen replied. “But I don’t want to lie to him. I want him to trust me. To trustus.”
“He will.”
“I hope so. I also hope he’s not a serial killer.”
They sat for another moment, letting it all sink in.
“We should book flights,” Peter suggested. “I could be ready to fly out tomorrow.”
“Me too.” She logged on to the Air Canada website. “Window or aisle?”
“Aisle.”
“Perfect, because I prefer the window.” Gwen began to fill in the online reservation form while she marveled at the fact that they were finally going to speak to someone who actually knew Scarlett in Alaska. And God willing, that someone might also know what happened to her baby.
PART II
THE STORM
CHAPTER 6
Valdez
September 1963
On the final approach to Anchorage, after a long and exhausting trip across the continent with multiple connections in the US, the view from the aircraft was both frightening and awe inspiring. Valerie McCarthy pressed her forehead to the window and gazed down at rugged mountain ranges, lush green forests, and the rich blue waters of Cook Inlet. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. Visually, it was spectacular, but this was unfamiliar territory, and she felt as if she might as well be flying to the moon.
Sitting back, she gripped the armrests. Her knuckles turned white as she fought the urge to cry, because she needed to stay strong and get through the next seven months. After that, she would pick up the pieces of her unfortunate life and start over. It was the only choice. When this ordeal came to an end, she promised herself she would forget what had happened back home and make her own way in the world. She would follow her heart and make all her dreams come true.
Valerie returned her attention to the window and watched the slow descent. Suddenly they were zooming close to the ground, merefeet above the runway. She braced herself for the landing and whatever might lie ahead.
Shortly after the plane touched down in Anchorage and made its way across the tarmac, Valerie gathered her belongings. A man named Frank Brown—an old wartime friend of her father’s—was supposed to meet her inside the airport and drive her to Valdez. Her father had assured her that Mr.Brown was a trustworthy fellow, but that was not a word she would use to describe her father, so she had no idea what to expect.
She was seated at the back of the cabin and had to wait for everyone to deplane ahead of her, which seemed to take forever. Finally, she lugged her heavy tote bag up the aisle. When she reached the exit door, she was struck by a shockingly cold wind that blew her dark hair in all directions. Carefully, she descended the steps, gripping the rail, and entered the airport, where she proceeded to the baggage claim area to meet Mr.Brown. She had no idea what he looked like. Her father didn’t know much either. They hadn’t seen each other in almost twenty years.
“Valerie McCarthy?”
At the sound of her name, she turned toward a giant of a man with a bushy beard and mustache, a wool cap, and heavy brown boots.
“Yes, that’s me.” Her mind flooded with relief. “Are you Mr.Brown?”
“Yep.” His words were clipped. “It took you long enough to get off the plane. We need to be getting on the road. It’s a six-hour drive back to Valdez.”
Six more hours?
“I’m sorry about that,” she replied. “I was at the very back of the plane.”
His broad shoulders rose and fell with an exasperated sigh. “I suppose that couldn’t be helped. Do you have a suitcase?”
