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Chapter Four
Kimber
Roomservicedeliveredafully loaded breakfast cart at seven a.m. accompanied by a note from Pel Cappa apologizing profusely for standing her up last night.
Kimber stared at the food, trying to decide if she could accept the gesture or not when the first dozen red roses showed up sporting another apology note. And then a vase of yellow and white paper lilies arrived with a box of British chocolates.
Surrounded by the gifts, Kimber pondered how to handle this.
Pel Cappa was a piece of work alright, and she hadn’t even interviewed him yet. How was he going to act when she showed up at his house at their prearranged time this morning? A simple text apologizing for last night would have more than sufficed.
She thought about calling her boss to see if it was appropriate to accept the gifts—she didn’t want to cross any professional lines—but then he’d ask why Pel was apologizing and probably assume she’d done something wrong. His face would turn red and sweat would drip from his hairline into his bushy eyebrows. His blood pressure would spike and give him chest pain. The paramedics would have to come, just like Dana predicted.
No, it would be better to address the gifts if it ever came up after the fact.
Deciding to enjoy the meal, she ate by the windows and stared absently over the water. The houses and roads between her hotel and the waterfront blurred until all she saw was gray shore blended into a muddled blue sky dotted with the outlines of birds.
Her father had taken her to Fort Myers Beach when she was twelve and told her about his first alien abduction experience while helping her build a sandcastle with red plastic beach buckets.
She’d thought he was telling her a story at first. He’d always been great at making up wild tales to tell her at night, especially fantasy ones about knights, princesses and unicorns and fantastical quests. But the story he told this time was different. His voice didn’t rise and fall as he told the tale. His eyes didn’t shine with a wonderful light.
No. He hadn’t been the playful, loving man who told tales just to see her smile.
His voice had remained flat, his eyes dull with fatigue, and she later realized, pain. The story hadn’t been exciting and adventurous. It had been scary and sickeningly suspenseful to hear him recount waking up to bright lights above him and tall, thin creatures covered in tight gray flesh, with huge black eyes looking down at him. He thought it was nothing more than a nightmare. But the acrid and decaying scents were too real. His fear in the air was too tangible. The sounds of a blade tugging skin too loud as they cut small pieces out of him and held them up to the lights. He saw chunks of his own flesh on the tips of their forceps, felt blood drip on to his skin. Tried to fight against full body restraints as they slipped thin needles into his veins and prodded him with lasers.
He’d woken up in his bed, sore as if bruised all over but without a single mark on his body.
No missing flesh. No sutures to hold together what they’d cut. No scars save for one fingertip-size pucker mark next to his belly button that hadn’t been there before. Her father had changed after that. He’d posted his story online and a junior reporter for a national news station had picked it up, rolled it into a sensationalized retelling, and the next thing he knew, her father was getting calls from every local and national media outlet wanting interviews.
She didn’t realize until she was older that the interviews had all been a passive-aggressive way to ridicule him and morph the report into a soundbite about the lack of available mental health care. Even as a child, she wished it would all go away. Eventually, the media attention died down and the stain of it faded. But then he claimed to be abducted again, and this time he was ‘returned’ by his captors with scars that no one could explain. He developed migraines the doctors couldn’t control, stomach and joint problems, and a host of other mysterious health issues.
No one took him seriously. Reporter after reporter hounded him for interviews, but they all had agendas. Maybe that’s what sparked her interest in journalism. She wanted to do better. And as much as she hated anything to do with aliens or unidentified flying objects, she could never kick the unrelenting curiosity of finding out what happened to her father. Alien abductions? Or a figment of his imagination caused by untreated depression and some kind of undiagnosed personality disorder?
The food had grown cold. Kimber set the fork down and drank some orange juice.
Ethan said that Pel Cappa was investigating the grays. Her father had claimed it was the same creature that had orchestrated his abductions and experimented on them. Didn’t she, maybe, have a responsibility to her father’s memory to poke around a little and see what she could find out?
No, Kimber!
Frustrated with herself, she cleaned up her dishes and set them on the cart. She couldn’t go looking for aliens any more than she should accept all these ridiculous flowers or have that drink with Ethan tonight. None of it was professional. Her job was on the line, and she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.
Kimber shook her head to dislodge any thoughts about the tall, sexy, golden-haired man from last night. There’d been something about him that captured her interest. Sure, she could chalk that up to a lot of things. Working too much, dating too little. Not paying attention to men lately. Being turned off by a few bad Tinder dates. Plus, she was in Ireland. There was something natural about finding romance when abroad.
Rolling her eyes at herself, Kimber got dressed and prepared for her interview with Pel. Ethan was hot, yes. But his friend creeped her out, and there was something strange about the both of them she couldn’t place.
Just as she was about to call for a cab, a text arrived from her driver last night to let her know he was waiting to take her to Pel’s. Double checking that she had her notepad, recorder, and interview profile, she gave herself one more look in the mirror and headed downstairs.
Pel’s place was a few miles out of town where rolling hills multiplied, and sheep dotted green pastures all the way to the edge of the ocean. The land narrowed as they reached a winding driveway that led up a hill. A white stone and tile house perched with an exquisite overlook of the water. An elaborate cast-iron fence cordoned the property from the surrounding hills. Inside the gates, well-manicured lawns were dotted with beautiful flower gardens spread before the house.
It was almost magical.
The driver parked in front of the house and let her out. The front double doors opened wide and a plump maid with a pleasant smile welcomed her in. Her pulse picked up, nerves solidly kicking in as she entered the stunning house.
Opulentwasn’t quite the word. The design was certainly fancy, but maybe exquisite was better. Everything was simple, bright, and streamlined, quietly modern in a way that stillscreamedwealth. White on black with pops of natural wood, gold tones, and muted earth hues all worked together to create a dynamic straight out of an upscale home magazine.
He’s really making use of his father’s fortune,she thought to herself as the maid showed her to a large sitting room with peaked and domed windows that offered an incredible view of the sea. Kimber thanked the maid but didn’t sit on the plush white sofa. Going to the windows instead, she enjoyed the rush of excitement that rippled through her chest at the view.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
