Page 37 of Wild Idol (Tyson Wild Thriller #82)

I shared a concerned look with Jack.

Then my eyes found Star. “Is somebody hunting on this side of the island?”

An innocent shrug tugged Star’s shoulders. She stammered, “I don’t know.”

The look on her face was different now.

I nodded to JD, and we took a step into the thick underbrush, heading toward the sound.

Star stayed on the trail. “Where are you going?”

“To check it out.”

“You hear a gunshot, and you instantly run in its direction!? Seems counterintuitive.”

“Are any of your people in that area?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you being evasive? ”

“I’m not being evasive.”

My eyes narrowed at her, full of suspicion. “Stay here. We’ll be back.”

“I’m going to vote against this.”

“Is there anybody else on this island besides the native villagers and your people?”

Star shook her head.

“Then maybe it’s somebody who doesn’t belong. Better to find out now.”

“You don’t have any weapons, do you?”

I shook my head before taking another step into the jungle.

JD followed.

Star decided she didn’t wanna wait on the trail by herself. She brought up the rear.

I took point, pushing through the dense leaves. This was a thick jungle. We needed a machete. Branches clawed at my skin, and it didn’t take me long to second-guess my decision.

A few hundred yards over this terrain might as well have been a few miles. The uneven ground shifted beneath my feet. We stumbled over roots and through craggy branches. Mosquitoes buzzed about, and the monkeys looked at us like we were crazy. We probably were.

Fallen branches snapped underfoot.

As we moved closer to the origin of the sound, we tried not to make a ruckus. Engulfed by the jungle, it was easy to lose your bearings. Fortunately, JD and I were no strangers to this kind of thing.

After our 200-yard march, which took longer than anticipated, we held up at a tree line. The jungle gave way to another clearing.

That nagging feeling that I’d had since we’d gotten here came full circle. In that instant, I knew exactly what was going on here.

The blood-red blooms of a poppy field swayed in the breeze. The field of crimson was enormous.

The sickly sweet smell drifted through the humid air.

I surveyed the field with cautious eyes, looking for the origin of the gunshot. There was no doubt in my mind that Solomon had goons patrolling the field.

I was frustrated and relieved that I had uncovered the island’s secret. There was a part of me that wished I hadn’t discovered this. It would have made it easier to walk away.

Star gave me a sheepish look under the weight of my intense gaze. “This is what it’s all about?”

“It’s a means to an end,” she admitted. “This allows us to do what we do. This pays for the medication. It pays for materials and supplies.”

“It lines Solomon‘s pockets. That’s what it does.”

“No,“ she said in denial. “It’s helping us create paradise.”

“Make no mistake, Solomon’s getting rich.”

She frowned, not wanting to admit the truth .

“Does the rest of the congregation know about this?”

Star shook her head.

“Do you know where the stuff ends up? It ends up on the street, where it wreaks havoc on innocent lives. For everyone you save here, you’re killing a dozen back home. Maybe more.” It may have been a bit dramatic. Or perhaps not dramatic enough.

Heroin wasn’t a drug that most people could dabble with on a casual level. It was a slippery slope that led to a life of addiction and misery.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Star said. “I’m still not going back to my father. And there’s nothing you can do about this. What are you going to do? Leave here, tell the local authorities. They won’t do a damn thing. You think Solomon hasn’t taken care of them?”

I gave her a look of displeasure.

“If we weren’t doing this here, somebody else would be. At least we’re putting the money to good use.”

“It’s amazing the hoops people jump through to justify their own actions. Make no mistake about it. You’re killing people. People you won’t ever know. People you won’t ever see. But let me assure you, they’re dying with every bit of this you send back to the States.”

One of Solomon’s goons rounded the corner at the far end of the field, holding an AK-47 in the patrol-ready position.

We crouched low in the trees, holding still. I looked at Star, my eyes urging her to keep her mouth shut.