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Perez was also her main contact to connect with Thomas King. King had been found only a few days earlier and was in a military hospital in Paraiso, recovering from his harsh captivity. Tory was eager to get to the hospital and see King. Mr. Perez had warned her that King was still in pretty bad shape.
Perez hadn’t answered any of her questions over the phone about how King had been found or why he’d still been imprisoned in the first place. But Tory didn’t plan to let Perez dodge her questions when they met in person.
The hot island air brushed over her skin like a lover’s hands. She shed her jean jacket and smiled at Jay.
“Not bad for November.” The weather was so different from the chill of November in Manhattan. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrances of wildflowers and sea breeze. The freshness of the air reminded her of her parents’ ranch and for a minute she felt as if she were back in Placid Springs and life was simpler.
“Not bad at all. I knew there was a reason you were my favorite reporter,” Jay said.
“Because I brought you to a warm place in November?”
He just smiled at her. Jay moved with an easy grace through the airport terminal. He was almost six feet tall and had broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. Tory knew him to be a hard worker and a wicked poker player. He’d also spent the first few years of his career working at the Central American desk for the network. He was familiar with the people and the customs of this island nation.
“You say that to everyone.” Tory liked Jay because he was easy to get along with and he was more of a photojournalist than just a cameraman. He’d gotten some film that was pure genius over the years. He was also incorrigible. He’d let Tory know a few times that he’d like to start something with her. But Tory had no interest in ruining a perfect reporter-cameraman relationship.
“Yeah, but with you I mean it.”
“Ha.” She deftly changed the subject. “Our visas should clear us through without too much problem.”
They made their way through the airport. It wasn’t as crowded as LaGuardia had been or even as bad as Miami International, where they’d connected, but there were people here. The line at customs was short, and Tory scanned the people waiting ahead of them. Suddenly she did a double take.
A familiar-looking blonde stood two people ahead of Tory. She had a few designer bags and the same Midwest generic American newscaster’s accent that Tory did. Shannon Conner. How had she gotten there without Tory seeing her? She must have been on their flight.
Tory’s reporter’s mind started sorting through information and trying to find answers. Shannon must have flown first-class and gotten on at the last minute, so Tory and Jay hadn’t spotted her. Was she following Tory in the hopes of getting to a story before her? Or did she know where Tory was going? And if so, where was she getting her information?
Shannon showing up at the same location couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the fourth time in as many weeks.
Tory suspected Shannon was still sore about getting kicked out of Athena. That had been a long time ago, and Tory had tried to put the incident behind her. However, Shannon had never really wanted to bury the ax. Except maybe in Tory’s back.
In college, they’d both interned with the same television station, and it was there that Tory realized that Shannon still had it in for her. Not that Tory really cared. Their business was highly competitive, and having Shannon nipping at her heels or a half pace ahead of her really kept Tory focused on her career. She didn’t plan on letting Shannon win.
“There’s your buddy,” Jay said. It was common knowledge in the industry that she and Shannon didn’t get along.
“Very funny. Save my place?”
“Sure.”
Tory got out of line and walked up to Shannon. Shannon was from Atlanta and always made Tory feel like a country bumpkin by comparison. Tory knew she wasn’t. She carefully picked her clothes out at exclusive New York department stores so that she looked successful. But every time they met, she remembered her jeans and worn cowboy boots and how Shannon had made fun of her.
“Shannon?” Tory called.
Shannon pivoted to face her with a smug grin. She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and looked Tory over from head to toe. Tory felt rumpled and dirty from flying. Shannon looked as if she’d just stepped off a luxury jet.
“Tory, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“Working on a story. Puerto Isla is hot right now with the new regime in place and making new announcements every day.”
“That’s right, it is.”
“Is that what you’re doing here?” Tory asked.
“Of course.”
Tory knew they were both lying and she sensed that Shannon was after the same story she was. If it had been any other reporter, Tory would have been tempted to fish around a little more for some information. But it wasn’t.
“You don’t usually handle world politics,” Tory said at last.
“I’m trying to broaden my scope. My Athena story really made the network take notice of me.”
“I’ll bet. Going to do a story that focuses on the facts instead of sensationalizing them like you did with Athena Academy?”
“You’re just jealous because the story got so much attention.”
“I’m not jealous, Shannon. I’m angry because you showed up at my friend’s funeral and tried to make the school sound like a top-secret breeding ground for freaks.”
“Well, you managed to cover up the truth nicely.”
“I managed to tell the truth. See if you can’t remember what that is. Have you read the Broadcast News Style book lately?”
“I’m not a rookie. I know enough to get the job done.”
“I hope so.”
“You know, Patton, I never really cared for your attitude and I can’t wait to take you down a peg or two.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
“I intend to.”
Jealous cow, Tory thought as she turned away and walked back to Jay. She should have said, “I’m not going to try. I’m going to do it.”
“Happy reunion?”
“Why did I request you again?” she said, but she was smiling.
“You can’t resist a man with a tattoo.” He gestured to the intricate hawk on his arm.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Don’t sweat Conner’s appearance here. She’s not half the reporter you are and she knows it.”
“Thanks, Jay.”
Jay moved to the customs agent to the left, and Tory was directed to the right. She handed her passport to the agent, who stamped it and checked her bag and said, “Recepcion, Puerto Isla, Señorita Patton.”
Welcome, she thought. It was funny how countries always said that when you entered them whether they wanted you there or not. “Gracias, señor.”
Jay and Tory rented a Jeep and made their way through the island traffic to the tourist district of Paraiso. The city had the old-world appeal of Cuba before Castro. Tory wished she had her still camera in her hand so she could capture the beauty of the island. But she wasn’t here to photograph; she was here to investigate.
It was just after lunchtime when they arrived at