Finally, so many of my scenes and characters were inspired by my experiences as a skier and climber in the spectacular Cascade mountains that I am sending a prayer of thanks to the snowy peaks and ridges that continue to inspire me.
Also By Amy Waeschle
Cassidy Kincaid Series
Rescuing Reeve
Meet Me on the Mountain
Finding Izzy Ford (12/6)
Standalone Titles:
Going Over the Falls
Feeding the Fire
Memoir:
Chasing Waves, A Surfer’s Tale of Obsessive Wandering
Short Stories:
Swimming Lessons
The Call of the Canyon Wren
Father of the Bride
Finding Izzy Ford Book 3 in the Cassidy Kincaid Series
Copyright © 2019 by Amy Waeschle. All rights reserved.
Publisher: Savage Creek Press
Genre: Adult Mystery.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN:
Editor: Ryan Hume
Cover Design: Cover design by Books Covered
Cover photographs: © Shutterstock
Author Photo: Josh Monthei
Other books by Amy Waeschle
Cassidy Kincaid Series:
Rescuing Reeve
Meet Me on the Mountain
Finding Izzy Ford
Failing Finn (June 2020)
Saving Sawyer
The Silent Search
Standalone Novels:
Going Over the Falls
Feeding the Fire
Memoir:
Chasing Waves, a Surfer’s Tale of Obsessive Wandering
Short Stories:
Swimming Lessons
The Call of the Canyon Wren
Father of the Bride
To the lost souls, may we find our way back
One
Wallowa Lake, Oregon
If only the scandal hadn’t broken until after field camp ended. Cassidy could have gone back to being anonymous and it wouldn’t have hit her so hard.
It started in the bar, of course. The geology students had packed up all the gear, cleaned up the campsite, then migrated to the resort on the edge of the lake for a celebration—a twenty minute walk from the Boy Scout property serving as their base camp. Cassidy let the students lead, and a line of them stretched out along the gravel road towards the lake.
After three weeks of managing twenty-nine geology majors—camping with them, preparing meals with them, chasing them all over the landscape, Cassidy felt relieved to have reached the end. Tomorrow, she and the students would part ways: the students back to Eugene, and Cassidy on to the University of Washington and her new career as a professor of geology.
The late-July blackberry vines lining the route hung heavy with fat berries, and popping the fruit into her mouth as she walked felt like eating pure goodness. Cassidy had taught the University of Oregon’s field camp on two previous occasions, both during her tenure as a postdoctoral student in volcano seismology at the University of Oregon. This summer’s camp had progressed with the usual mishaps—trips to the clinic in nearby Joseph for sprained ankles and strep throat, reprimands for pot smoking or partying, and managing dramas like breakups and fights, but overall nothing serious. Cassidy had almost enjoyed it.
Cassidy entered the bar, easily identifying her group of students in their trademark t-shirts, shorts, and flip flops, though Martin, one of her graduate students, wore his trademark Madras short sleeve button-down and high-tech running shoes. The students stood clustered together at the end of the bar, their volume already filling the space. As Cassidy crossed the room, she watched a cluster of them lean in to look at something.
“Whoa,” one of her students said as Cassidy neared. She gave them a glance while waiting for the bartender. Cody, a bright but lazy student, held his phone for the others to see, the bright light from the screen illuminating their faces.
Another student, Izzy, her blonde hair tied back in a messy knot, grabbed the phone and pulled the screen to her face.
“Who knew she was such a badass,” Izzy said. Cassidy was surprised to see mascara on Izzy’s lashes and wondered briefly why anyone would haul makeup to field camp.
“Who’s a badass?” Cassidy said. She had no intention of hanging out with the students that night while they blew off three weeks of steam, but knew they’d razz her if she didn’t at least share one beer. So she walked to the group, knowing that soon she would slip away to one of the picnic tables outside to nurse her second beer while clearing her inbox. Before things got rowdy—and they would—she would return to the camp. Martin and Bridget, her other graduate Bridget, would to keep an eye on things.
Everyone in the group turned to Cassidy, their faces a mix of surprise and alarm.
“You are,” Izzy said, flashing the phone at Cassidy’s face.
Lifting the offered device from Izzy’s hand, Cassidy scanned the screen. Instantly, her stomach liquified into mush.
It was a picture of Mel’s face.
Trying to hold her composure, Cassidy speed-read the passage.
The man, David “Mel” Tomlinson, an accomplice to three members of a Columbian family who lured young women as young as 13 years old to Costa Rica with the promise of good jobs, only to put them to work as prostitutes. All remain in custody as investigators attempt to unravel the complex case. Tomlinson and the three members of the Vasquez family have been charged with 50 counts of human rights violations and if convicted, will serve several life sentences.
Cassidy’s skin ignited with sudden heat. The fear of that moment in Mel’s treehouse came flooding back. Nobody was supposed to know about Mel. She could feel her students all looking at her like she was some kind of alien that had dropped out of the sky. Cassidy’s blood thumped past her ears as she scanned down to a side-by-side picture of herself and Reeve:
. . . two American victims were involved. Reeve Bennington, a California surf guide was killed while trying to smuggle one of the victims through Nicaragua, and Cassidy Kincaid, a geology student at the University of Oregon, survived an attack by Tomlinson who attempted to cover up his involvement in Bennington’s murder.
Kincaid was
