Read Online The Sunset Witness by Gayle Hayes - Free Book Online Page A

hat. 
Unlike so many single diners, she did not read a book while she ate.  She did
not even seem to notice the ocean.  When I looked her way, her eyes would be
closed as she held each morsel in her mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed.  Watching
her eat was like watching someone pray before a shrine.  She adored the food
and left a generous contribution to my tips.
    As we were closing, I noticed someone new near the
bakery counter at the front.  He was a little taller than I, with dark hair
that was shorter and combed back on the sides and a little fuller on top with a
few stray strands falling on his high forehead.  He had stunning blue eyes
deeply set under strong brows and a disarming smile.  He was dressed head to
toe in black.  He was either a gangster or an agent of the FBI.  He was too
full of himself to be a missionary.  I heard Breanna tell him Joel would be out
in a minute.  I knew this must be Michael.  I was not surprised when Joel
brought him over to the table I was clearing and introduced us.  I felt my face
flush when Michael Archer reached for my hand and bent slightly to kiss it.  He
seemed to have stepped from another era.  Before he left with Joel, he said he
would look forward to seeing me on Sunday.
    I'd not been in love since Nate.  I did not expect to
fall in love again.  After meeting Michael, I knew only the most serious
character flaw would keep me from falling in love with him.
     

 
     
     
    Saturday, June 4, 2011
     
    By the time I left Sunset on Saturday, I still did
not have an email or a phone call from Sarah.  She'd always been a
procrastinator, but I found it especially annoying then.  It was a lovely
morning for a drive, so I tried to focus on that instead.  I took a right at
the junction and drove along the coast for a few miles before turning inland. 
I found the grocery Frank had mentioned a short distance from Sunset.  There
were some serious potholes in the highway, so I was not surprised road repairs
were planned.  The highway cut through the rainforest before it opened up into
farmland.  Dairy cows and dairies were plentiful.  It took only a half hour for
me to arrive at the outskirts of Hoquarten.  I was mystified about Sarah's use
of the winding road above Sunset.  It took twice as long each way.  She must
have known about the shorter route.
    As I waited for my car to fill with gas, I asked the
attendant if he could tell me how to get to Orchard Avenue.  He pointed to the
east and told me to stay on the street I was on.  He said it would curve to the
right and Orchard Avenue would be on the left.  He was not sure about house
numbers.  I followed his directions until I came to Orchard Avenue.  The first
quarter mile was farmland.  Then homes lined both sides of the street, but the
numbers were wrong.  I stopped in front of a yard where someone was mowing the
lawn.  I told the man I was looking for an address.  He said there was no such
number on Orchard Avenue.  I started walking to my car and then turned around.
    I walked back to the man who was hosing off his lawn
mower.  He shut off the hose and looked at me as if I were selling something
and he already had too many.  I asked if he knew of anyone named Sarah who
lived on Orchard.  I described her.  He was sure no single women lived on the
street.  There was a young blonde woman who lived in the stucco house two doors
down.  I walked to the house and knocked on the door.  A teenager hollered “mom”
and glared at me.  His mother was blonde, but she was not Sarah.  I apologized
for bothering her and left.
    As I was walking back to my car, I realized the
address Sarah had given me over the phone was the same number as that on the
house Nate and I shared with two other people when we attended the university
in Missoula.  Was this Sarah's idea of a joke?  Or was I to blame?  Had I
written my old address instead of hers because Orchard Avenue had stirred
memories of Nate?  If I only