Page 66 of Her Wild Coast Promise

He covers my arms with his, the warmth of our bodies skin to skin a reminder of how beautiful two people can be together. I rest there, leaning on him, the heat from our bodies molding us together.

“The evidence is in,” he finally says, his voice edged with an emotion I can’t detect. Regret? Apprehension?

“And?” I say with a sigh.

“I’m now one hundred percent sure you enjoy being worn out.”

I hum my approval.

In one swift move, he reaches back for my thighs and stands.

“I’m one hundred percent sure you liked it too,” I say as he piggyback carries me into his bathroom.

With a laugh, he sets me down by the shower and reaches into the curtain to turn on the water. He then gathers me in his arms and kisses me with care, his lips tender.

The words we could jokingly share about this being the end of the “investigation” or “resting our case” hang in the air between us, unsaid. I’m grateful. Because I just want to enjoy the afterglow of what might be the most intensely intimate moments of my life.

Saying those words out loud isn’t necessary. We both know this is the end.

* * *

I lean backfrom my computer, rubbing my eyes. On my little office couch, nestled on a blanket, Rosie opens one eye, then when I don’t rise from my chair, sighs and curls tighter into a ball. After Seth left for his Veteran’s Day speech at the Kittitas National Cemetery, I took her running, pushing myself hard. It worked in the moment, but now, my emotions feel like jagged bits of glass, grinding my insides.

At least I managed to share the campaign updates with Seth this morning, and get his approval to set up a temporary hub for volunteers. While I love working from my private office at Seth’s, for the final push of the campaign, I need to be in the heart of downtown. This has the added benefit of keeping me away from Seth, and after what happened last night, that’s a good thing.

My email chimes, pulling me from my melancholy thoughts.

It’s an alert from the Coalition for Open Disclosure, Alaska’s internal reporting commission for all campaign finance transactions. It’s given me valuable information about Peyton Reece’s supporters—how much is being donated and from whom. Over half of her money is coming from the business sector, which is no surprise given her family’s interests. There’s also quite a few I’ve linked to the oil and gas sector, which makes me think that Peyton’s promised to support these industries in her role as sheriff. It’s a little odd, though. As sheriff, she wouldn’t have a lot of influence. Maybe this is simply her father’s long reach in action.

I open the link and scrutinize the new results. Because of campaign donation limits, the amounts aren’t impressive—$1,000 here, $450 there. It’s the number of transactions. Since yesterday there are over 400 new contributions.

Whoa.

I skim the list. 400? So far, a handful have come in each day. What happened recently to bring in this much?

On Peyton’s election campaign website, I scan her events calendar. Maybe she delivered a big speech or organized a rally? But her calendar is blank for yesterday and today.

I check Seth’s donation data. Maybe it’s a reporting glitch. If his numbers have jumped up too…

But Seth’s contributions are the same steady trickle.

Huh.

I print the column of Peyton’s donors so I can start cross referencing who the money is coming from. It’s tedious work, but I don’t trust a volunteer to do it. If there’s a pattern here, I’m likely the only one who can find it.

Two hours later, my hand is cramping from the furious notes I’ve taken and my eyes are scratchy from scrutinizing details on my screen, but I’m making progress.

Libby’s comment from our phone call rattles through my thoughts.Like she’s corrupt?

Just because Peyton’s accepting contributions from a source doesn’t guarantee she’s connected to them in any way, yet it would be interesting to see how she reacts if pressed to explain.

I take a break for lunch and to stretch my calves. But when I return to pick up where I left off, a detail I missed snags my attention.

I lower into my chair and make a call to confirm it.

When I hang up, my chest is tight and my shoulders feel tense.

This could be nothing. I need more information, and the only way to get it is with a field trip.

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