Fire Prayer (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

Storm walked the gravel road back to the Lodge and her stomach growled angrily. She wished she'd had time for breakfast with Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone—or at least someone cheerful and uncomplicated. The two men she'd talked with so far that morning had been enough to make her want to crawl back into bed. The fact that she'd had a youthful romantic obsession for one and was involved with the other wasn't helping.

The aroma of coffee lured her into the dining room. It was only nine o'clock; the room was filled with families and delicious aromas. A hostess appeared right away and Storm let herself be led to an outdoor seat with a panoramic view.

“Coffee?” the hostess asked, and Storm nodded gratefully. The hostess filled a mug and left Storm a menu.

Storm opened the menu, but her mind drifted to Dusty's abruptness when the subject of the fire came up. He had discussed Tia's and Tommy's disappearance and the subsequent search for them without much hesitation, but he'd shut down fast when she brought up the fire. It made Storm wonder if Tia's disappearance and the fire were related. Otherwise, why not tell her about it? Especially since he'd brought it up on the drive from the airport Thursday afternoon. Or had she or Hamlin brought up the fire? She wasn't sure any more. Dusty had talked about it, though.

Storm took a grateful swallow of coffee and noticed that her waitress was back. “Scrambled eggs and fruit salad, please. Toasted taro bread sounds good, too.” Storm eyed the pot of
poha
jam on the table. A relative of the gooseberry,
poha
jam was an island delicacy she didn't get very often.

Breakfast was just what she needed. Stoking a hundred percent improvement in her mood, Storm devoured everything on her plate and signed off on the check. On her way out the front door of the Lodge, she was contemplating filling another mug from the coffee urns by the foyer when Makani ambled through the front door with his own extra-large mug in hand.

“Hey, Storm,” he said. “How's Hamlin this morning?”

“Still kinda sore. He went back to O‘ahu to see the doc.”

“Bummers.”

“Yeah.” A thought struck her. “Makani, could I buy you breakfast and ask a couple questions?”

“You don't have to buy. You want to know about Brock?”

“That and how he ties in to Lambert, Tanner, and that whole group of guys.”

Makani gestured to a soft leather sofa in front of a big fireplace in a comfy log chamber that served as gathering space and lobby for the Lodge. “Let's sit down.”

“Dusty told me Tommy was Lambert's child,” Storm said.

Makani ducked his head and slurped at his coffee. It took him just a beat too long.

“What?” Storm asked quietly.

“You get right to the big stuff, don't you?”

She hadn't meant to, but there it was.

He looked down at his mug. “Alika Liu was probably Tommy's biological father.” He swirled his coffee around. “But Tia left him for Lambert.”

Storm sat back on the sofa. “I didn't know that. When did she leave Alika?”

“When she was pregnant. He was an ass.” He grimaced. “Kind of runs in the family.”

“Was Alika angry about that?”

“Nah, he didn't want the responsibility. In fact, he might have been the one to break it off.”

“How did Dusty take this?”

“He was glad it was over. No one in our family liked Alika.”

Storm nodded. “Dusty and Tia must have been close, right?”

Makani sipped his coffee. “Dusty took care of her real good, and he absolutely adored Tommy.”

“I never hear anyone talk about Tia's mom. Where is she?”

Makani sighed. “She died in a car crash near Lahaina. That's when Tia moved here to live with Dusty. She was sixteen.”

So Dusty had exaggerated a bit about how he'd raised his daughter on Moloka‘i. She'd only lived here for three years.

“You grew up together, then?” Storm asked.

“She was like my big sister. If a girl could be a best friend, she was mine. She could ride like the wind, throw a baseball, shoot hoops—and all the older guys wanted to be my friend cuz they wanted a date with her.”

“How much older was she than you?”

“Two and a half years. Seemed like a lot when I was ten or twelve.”

“Is she the reason you moved here?”

He winced. “Not exactly. As you probably guessed, my mom was plenty
huhu
with her brother. Dusty cheated on Liza, and she and Mom weren't only sisters-in-law, they were best friends. He took a long time to grow up, and by then it was kinda late.” He stirred his coffee again.

Storm stayed quiet, and he finally mumbled down at his mug, “A couple years after Tia moved, I got into some trouble at school.”

“Sounds like me at that age.” Storm grinned at him.

“Really?”

“Big time. I got busted for pot.” A waitress wandered by and Storm ordered more toasted taro bread. She waited for the young woman to leave. “I was kind of a rebel, too.”

This confession seemed to delight Makani, and he continued. “Mom was worried about Tia. She knew Tia was involved with these activists. One of them was Tommy's father, and she knew that wasn't going well. Meanwhile, Tia was starting to see another one.”

“So she got you to watch over each other?”

“That was the plan. Plus, Mom wanted me away from some bad influences on Maui.” The waitress came in to put the toast, a tub of butter, and a couple of pots of jam on the coffee table before them. Makani looked at it hungrily. “That does look good.”

“It's for you, I already had some.”

Makani spread butter and jam on a piece, took a bite, and chewed a while before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was sad. “I let 'em down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Both of them, my Mom and Tia.” He slumped in his seat, and crumbs of toast fell on his shirt front.

Storm touched his shoulder lightly. “What do you think you could have done?”

Makani brushed at the crumbs. “Watched her better? Kept track of who she was seeing?”

“Did she act worried or scared?”

Makani finally slid his gaze to meet Storm's. “I've thought about this a lot, you know. A lot probably went over my head.” He shook his head sadly. “I was in school, then I'd rush up here to help Uncle Dusty here at the ranch. Trying to be good.”

“And she was busy, too. She had a baby. Did Dusty act like anything was wrong?”

“Yeah.” Makani chuckled, but it held no humor. “He was pissed.”

Storm sat up straighter. “About what?”

“A lot of things, I think. The fire was one of them. Remember, he worked for the Ranch, and people were split over the Ranch's development.”

“Did he seem angry with anyone in particular?”

“The guys who started it, I guess. But no one knew who that was,” he said quickly. “And anyway, they were his friends. Even if he didn't agree with them, they'd grown up together.”

“It was like that where I grew up, too.” She took a sip of coffee. “Do you remember the date?”

Makani frowned into the distance. “Not exactly, but we saw Tia, Tommy, and Uncle Dusty at Christmas and everyone was talking about it.”

“And she disappeared in March?”

Makani just nodded.

“Do you think she left the island?”

“I've wondered a thousand times.” His dark eyes clouded with melancholy and remorse. “She wanted to go to O‘ahu to finish school, you know. But she was in the middle of a journalism class here on the branch campus and she loved it. I'm sure she wouldn't have left without finishing.”

He sighed deeply and stood up. “I'd better get going. Dusty probably wonders where I've gone.”

“Thanks for explaining some things,” Storm said. “One last thing—do you know if Brock Liu went kayaking during his visit here?”

Makani looked down at his dusty boots. “He mentioned wanting to go, but I didn't see him after that. He came and went without explanation, so I figured his dad had called him home, you know?”

He trudged off, and Storm sat for a moment and nibbled on the last piece of toast while she mulled over the conversation with Makani. She hadn't found out any information for Hamlin, but Tia sounded like a young woman she would have liked to know.

Makani had been sixteen or seventeen at the time of the fire. The discussion had obviously dejected him, and how could it not? Like tangled and hungry flames, tendrils of violence reached from the past and tormented individuals today. She wondered again if and how Jenny's and Brock's recent deaths fit into the puzzle of the past. And yes, she thought the body in the woods belonged to Brock. But how did he die? And Jenny—where did she fit in?

Storm rose to her feet. It was time to track down Tanner and Skelly, which was probably going to take some effort. With that thought, Storm acknowledged she wasn't going to head back to O‘ahu that afternoon. She looked at her watch. Eleven-thirty. Hamlin should have seen the doctor by now, but he hadn't called.

She dialed him and got his voice mail. Okay, maybe he was delayed at the doctor's. But she was itching to know if the police had contacted Devon Liu. She also wanted to hear how Hamlin felt, and get a read on his mood. She was bothered that he'd been so aloof that morning. What was bugging him now? Storm left a message to call her back and wandered out of the Lodge, squinting in the bright sunlight.

Chapter Twenty-three

Luke felt shaky and weak, but before he left the hospital, he'd used a glucose monitoring kit, which he hated because his fingers ended up poked full of holes. His numbers were in the right range. He knew he needed rest, and he'd been dozing fitfully ever since Aunty Caroline had brought him to the ER this morning. But he couldn't let himself fall soundly asleep, not where everyone and anyone could come into his room. No, not after he'd glimpsed the hulking, shadowy figure in the living room last night. Worse, the figure had looked directly at him.

It hadn't been difficult to sneak out of the hospital; it was dinner time, the patients' call-buttons kept the nurses scurrying, and it was visiting hour. Luke fell into step behind a father and two kids who'd come to see their new little brother and walked out the front door. It was only a half-mile to his house, where he sat down to rest in the dark shelter of the banana trees in the back yard. He'd come back for the insulin vials in the refrigerator, but now he couldn't make himself go inside. His legs quivered at the thought.

Luke rubbed a hand across his eyes as if he could wipe the memories away. Like a video loop, they'd been running through his mind since early that morning. It seemed longer ago than that, though.

A thin, high cry had jarred him from a deep sleep, a noise that would haunt him forever, because he knew now it had been his mother's last appeal. And he'd been as effective as a slug. It was over before he knew what was happening. Oh, God, if he could only have another chance, turn back the clock, try again.

In the moment that had changed his life, he'd stumbled from his bed, stupefied with sleep, and felt his way down the hallway and into the dark living room, where he must have made a noise because a large, dark figure raised its head from Jenny's prone form. It looked right at Luke, who stood as if struck senseless. By the time he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, the shadow had slipped away.

But a residual image was burned into the boy's brain. Thick fingers of moonlight crept through the blinds on the front window and striped his mother's body like the moray eels down by the pier. The figure hovering above her was noticeable for two reasons: it was a featureless silhouette, backlit by the strips of light, and a wink of light had flickered from the area of the hulk's head, as if it wore glasses.

Before Luke understood what it all meant, the figure merged with the shadows by the front door, the screen door squeaked and then fastened with a click. That's when Luke finally moved. On jellied legs, he tiptoed to his mother and grabbed her arm to give it a shake. It flopped bonelessly and he didn't like the way a slice of moonlight reflected a dull gleam in her half-closed eyes. He ran to the kitchen phone and dialed 911. He'd still believed everything would be okay and his mother would later tousle his hair and give him a hug for helping her out.

But he knew better now, and he felt gutted and hollow. Thoughts skittered through his mind like cockroaches fleeing light. They lacked logic or order, and drifted away before he could hold onto them. Dull fear prodded, reminding him he desperately needed to think.

The house squatted darkly, its windows mirroring the street lights with the same dullness his mother's eyes had reflected, like they needed to be cleaned. It transmitted its desolation to the boy, who knew he wouldn't enter, not even for his medicine. He could get insulin from other places; in fact, he'd travel around the island before he went into that place of living nightmares.

A man who knew his mom from the hospital picked Luke up and gave him a ride to Uncle Skelly's office. That building was locked up, too, but the kitchen windows had louvers he could remove. It wasn't as simple as he thought, though. The screen came off without too much trouble, and he got the first pane out, but the second pane was jammed tightly into its corroding aluminum frame. The glass broke in his hands, slicing the base of his thumb and nicking a couple of fingers. Luke dropped it in the gravel under the window and sucked at his new wounds.

The opening was big enough to crawl through. Being small occasionally had its advantages. He went in headfirst and slithered across the sink onto the countertop. The first thing he did was wash the cuts on his hands. He even found Band-Aids in the cupboard with the coffee mugs. They were next to a giant bottle of aspirin, which he left alone.

But when he opened the refrigerator, it was empty. No insulin, though Uncle Skelly had put the vials in a couple of weeks ago. He looked through some other cupboards and even checked the main office for possible storage sites, but the insulin was gone.

This was not good. He'd come all the way down here for nothing. It made him want to cry, or throw something, but that wouldn't do any good.

He had one more person he could turn to before he found his dad. He'd have to go back to Kaunakakai and wake him up, which would take a bit of effort. It was a last resort, but that's where he was.

What he wanted right then was to lie down on the couch here for the night, but he was afraid he wouldn't wake up. Nor did Luke want to risk running into Uncle Skelly's brother, who had bad breath, a nasty temper, and little piggy eyes. The fellow in town had the medication Luke needed, and a safe place to rest. The shadow who'd been in his house wouldn't think to look for him there.

***

Tanner jogged from the hospital to his former house, his breathing ragged with anguish. Sometimes he shouted out loud, calling for Luke, and discussing with himself where the boy might have gone. Whenever a car went by, he ducked into hedges or behind trees, though he knew hiding wasn't rational. Most of his former neighbors would willingly join the search for Luke, and Tanner wanted to see Dave Niwa. Niwa could call his colleagues into the search, plus Tanner knew that Niwa and his family genuinely cared for his son.

But Tanner knew he looked distraught and out of control. He knew the symptoms, had studied them, in fact. His right eyelid had developed a muscle spasm and he could barely swing his arms, let alone unclench his trembling fists. If someone stopped him, he might not be able to stand still, and if the person showed a kindness, Tanner wasn't sure if his reactions would be socially acceptable. His emotions were too close to the surface. Tears, laughter, or a combination could boil over in a noisy outburst. If he encountered someone who showed irritation or indifference, Tanner wasn't sure he'd be able to walk away. Nor did he want anyone to challenge his progress through the neighborhood, as some of the newer members might if he was seen scurrying along the sidewalk.

So he headed through back yards, avoided houses with dogs and fences, and circumvented street lights. When he got to within sight of his house—or Jenny's and Luke's, he reminded himself—he stopped several yards away and looked at the dark, blank windows. His hopes plummeted. What did you expect, he asked himself. Luke is running, and would be careful not to leave any sign of his presence.

Tanner crept through his neighbors' yards to the back of the house. He sneaked up the two steps to the back door, jiggled the doorknob, and was surprised when it was locked. Jenny almost never locked the house.

Oh, shit. Jenny hadn't closed up, had she? Reality hit him with a blow that nearly knocked him down. She was gone. Forever.

Tanner stumbled back, missed the step, and fell to his knees on the ground. He muttered a few words, and heard his own voice wobble with physical and psychological pain. Moisture seeped through his slacks and left blotchy mud spots. After a few moments of self-pity, he stood, knocked softly on the door, and certain that Luke either hadn't been there at all or had already left, headed back to the main road. This time, he walked down the sidewalks as if he belonged.

It took him three rides and over an hour to reach the Hawai‘i EcoTours office. It too, was dark and closed up, but Tanner was prepared for that. What he wasn't prepared for was when he tipped the rosemary plant and the key wasn't there. Two thoughts went through his mind. With the first, his hopes soared: Luke had been there. But he wasn't sure if Luke knew about the hidden key, as he'd never had a need for it. When he'd been to the office, he'd been with Tanner or Skelly.

The second thought precipitated a kick to the large concrete pot, and the shock that traveled up Tanner's leg gratified him somehow. It's what he'd like to do to Connor's face. That would take some fast footwork, though. If the oaf had turned up right then, Tanner would have taken him on, inflated brawn and all.

Tanner tried the front door, but as expected, it was locked. Luke knew there was insulin in the refrigerator. What would he do if he were Luke? Tanner remembered the time Luke climbed through a window one night so that he and Jenny wouldn't know he'd sneaked out to play with friends.

A couple minutes later, Tanner discovered the broken kitchen window and smiled with relief. He couldn't get through the opening, so he shouted into the kitchen. No answer. Tanner walked around to the office, where a big picture window looked out to the ocean. He cupped his hands around his face and peered in. He couldn't see into the corners of the room, but he could see the desk, couch, and two chairs, and no one was in them. He knocked loudly on the glass. “Luke, are you there?”

By the time Tanner made his way around the building, he was fairly certain Luke had been there to retrieve his insulin and had left. Tanner knew that Luke needed medical supervision, and he needed it even more since he'd suffered the shock of Jenny's death. But he also had confidence in Luke's knowledge of his illness, and felt a sense of relief that Luke had picked up his medication.

A couple of years ago, when Tanner moved out, he and Luke devised a system to leave messages. There was a loose brick at the ball park pavilion in Kaunakakai, where people had their potlucks. Tanner and Luke had used it a number of times; it was how Tanner took Luke places Jenny didn't approve of, like the cabin, or on short kayak trips.

He'd check there and see if Luke had left a note. He hoped so, because he was sure Luke wouldn't head for the cabin on the north shore until daylight. So the next question was, where would the boy choose to spend the night?

Tanner didn't know where to spend the night himself at this point. His first plan, the office, wasn't an option. The next best thing would be to get back to Kaunakakai, check the pavilion for a message, and crash on one of the benches there. He needed to rest and get on the road early, so that he could leave a message for Luke at the ball park and the cabin before he met his group of tourists at Halawa around noon.

Tanner walked back along the uneven, narrow shoulder of the highway, carefully veering off the road into the lush foliage if a car came by too quickly. He knew Friday night traffic—people partied, then drove too fast. The bright lights of a speeding car caused him to hop into a thicket of tall grass and oleander. It wasn't until it passed that Tanner identified it as a police vehicle with two people in the front seat. The driver was about the size and shape of Dave Niwa. Tanner clambered back onto the pavement, jumped up and down, waved and called out, but they were too far down the road to notice.