by Amy Shojai
“Runaway?” Same age as Mele.
She shook her head. “Nope. Happy family, they saved up for the vacation. That earring and necklace set was special order, and the last Christmas gift Wikolia got from her family.”
Her voice shook. “They target Island girls. Wikolia wasn’t in the foster care system. She was kidnapped.”
Chapter 41
Lia stood far away from the band, close to the door, but the noise still aggravated her tinnitus, making her ears ring. How anyone found enjoyment in the ear-bleeding level defied logic. She’d been here twenty minutes and figured another twenty would satisfy Grandfather. Grammy had her hands full directing the caterers and schmoozing with other North Texas glitteratti who lived for such events, and wouldn’t miss her when Lia ducked out.
Grammy had spent most of those twenty minutes introducing Lia to every eligible bachelor in the place. She might as well be a horse at auction. Lia wondered when a would-be suitor (or his mother) would ask to see her teeth.
She recognized some of the ranch hands and smiled as they passed by, all decked out with their best boots and Sunday duds. Wives and girlfriends on their arms showed whitened teeth, hair teased and done up “proper,” batting eyelash extensions and showing off designer nail-claws that clutched stems of wine glasses with studied poise. No plastic cups for Grammy’s event, only real glass would do. Lia hid another smile, though, noticing that most of the men—even the high society guys—chose long neck beer, taking their cue from Grandfather. Lia sipped iced tea, no sugar, thank you very much.
She fingered her bracelet like worry beads or a rosary. Abe had challenged her to find ways to honor her heritage. So she used the bracelet as an acronym and meditation focus. It helped especially during times of stress. Like now.
“A is for Ancestor,” she whispered, and touched the first letter in her bracelet. “P is for pride.” Whenever she needed courage, she recited the litany to spell out Apikalia. She whispered the words three times: Ancestor Pride, Intelligence and Kindness, Act in Love with Intuition and Attitude.
She’d need all that and more to go against Grandfather, the police, and Detective Jeff Combs. For some reason, it mattered what Combs thought.
She debated calling him. She should have told him about Karma’s GPS tracking collar. It wasn’t right to put another handler and dog at risk for her own stupid pride. Besides, Combs might have news by now about Karma and Mele. She’d give anything to figure out how to switch on that elusive whisper-connection to touch base with Karma the way she had with Shadow.
Lia sent Combs a quick text. “Any news? Ready to help.” She told herself she’d give him ten minutes to answer—no, make that five minutes. He owed her an update, after all. She’d found the body, and on Corazon land. Grandfather hadn’t said anything yet, but surely he’d been notified. Probably didn’t want the news to spoil the gala.
Her phone vibrated announcing a one-word answer. “No.”
Her cheeks burned. There must be more news by now. She texted again. “Find Karma?” If he wouldn’t share police updates, she had a right to know about her own dog.
Again the phone buzzed. “No.”
Lia grinned. She still had time. Pulling this off would impress Grandfather and earn points with Captain Gregory when Karma was ready to work with his team.
Sudden nerves fluttered her stomach as she prepared to leave the ballroom. The massive area made up more than half of the ground floor of the Corazon family home, which was an ostentatious relic of the past. Across the way, open veranda doors allowed overflow to spill out onto the green carpet of specialty St. Augustine grass Grammy preferred. It needed far more water than the native and hardier Bermuda grass that turned brown at this time of year.
Several of the ranch hands and their dates headed out to the yard, with Grandfather and some of his cronies in tow. He had a smoking area set up, far enough from the house to satisfy Grammy, where he could offer special guests the imported cigars he enjoyed. The veranda had a clear view of the family garage. Maybe he’d be done smoking before she made a dash for her car.
It would take at least five minutes to reach her room in the west wing, another five to change clothes, and maybe ten more to drive to the access road. Her phone application synchronized with Karma’s GPS tracking collar once she got within range. She’d never have risked sending Karma after the girl without a certain way to retrieve them.
She had a good idea where Karma would guide the girl. After being in the heat, she’d want to find a cool resting spot, like a horse tank. There were dozens. She’d start with the one nearest Mele’s starting point and hope to get within range of the GPS, and go from there.
Without a backward look, Lia slipped out the massive ballroom into the reception hall. She handed her empty tea glass to Grammy’s caterer, and pulled the stylish man aside. “There’s a very important visitor Grandfather wanted to meet as soon as he arrived. I have to run but could you give Grandfather the message? Tell him Mr. Kanoa waits in Grandfather’s office with a deal to discuss.” Nodding, the caterer hurried away.
She smiled, satisfied. That should get Grandfather back into the house long enough for her to collect her car without him seeing. That is, if Kanoa wasn’t already out there with the rest of the smokers.
As she passed other staffers, Lia held a finger to her lips in the universal sign to keep her secret. Used to Lia’s antics, they didn’t look surprised when she slipped off the high heels Grammy had chosen, hiked up her skirt, and took off at a dead run.
Her suite of rooms remained as she’d left them. The staff no longer tried to pick up after Lia, and respected her wishes for privacy. She had agreed to stay here until her kennel became livable. She didn’t agree to give up her independence.
The clothes she’d worn earlier slouched in a heap on the bedroom floor where she’d shed them. Lia peeled off the party clothes and tossed the glittery shoes and dress across the rumpled bedclothes. She pulled on a fresh tank top and long work socks, followed by heavy jeans and a loose-fitting long-sleeved canvas work shirt that kept stickers and mosquitoes at bay. Work boots gave more ankle support for hiking and navigating in the dark. Finally, she grabbed her training pack with assorted tools including a flashlight, and stuck in two full water bottles, an extra leash, training treats, her cell phone and her mother’s lariat for luck. You never knew when a rope would come in handy.
Lia left her braids but tied a bandanna around her forehead as a sweatband, and grabbed car keys on the way out of the room. Everyone gathered in the rear of the house, so she sprinted down the stairs and out the front door, and stopped short in surprise.
The front drive plus the area surrounding the nearest barn and the family garage overflowed with cars and trucks of every persuasion. They blocked any easy escape for her old ramshackle truck. Now what?
A pause in the band music offered respite for her ears. In the sudden quiet, she heard a whinny. A horse would get her where she needed to go even faster than the truck, and without having to hike in and out. She still had about an hour before sunset, and had no time to waste.
Decision made, Lia threaded through the sea of parked cars to reach the horse barn. She dismissed Grandfather’s prize bay stallion. Some lines she knew better than to cross. The chestnut mare at age eighteen wasn’t a good choice, either, and barely had the stamina to carry her petite grandmother. The flashy young buckskin gelding snorted and trotted over to nuzzle Lia’s matching hair. “Twice in one day, how about that, Fury. You up for an adventure? Want to make up for Karma teasing you?” He pawed the ground, and she took that as a yes.
She’d beg forgiveness later for borrowing Grammy’s saddle and tack. Within minutes, she had mounted and cantered away, grateful for the moon’s weird orange glow as bright as early twilight. She clucked soothing noises to keep her horse calm when coyotes yodeled a duet with a distant siren.
Lia had traveled less than a mile when her phone vibrated. She checked the message, giving Fury his head
to continue along the trail toward the practice track. He knew the way, since they’d set the track that morning.
Three texts waited, arriving within seconds of each other. The first came from Grammy. Lia groaned. Busted! The other two came from Grandfather, one angry on Grammy’s behalf and the other demanding why she’d taken Fury.
How had he discovered Fury gone so soon? The guests wouldn’t leave for hours. It made no sense for Grandfather to check the barn.
Before she could answer, yet another text buzzed in, this time from Combs. “Call me.”
She dialed. “Did you find them?”
“Where are you? Your grandfather just contacted my boss Captain Gregory. Said you disappeared from that big dance on one of his horses. Please tell me you’re not hunting your dog.”
“What if I am? Did you find them?”
“Not yet. Lia—”
“What about that fancy tracking expert?” He couldn’t tell her what to do. She was a Corazon, on Corazon land riding a horse that belonged to the family. Karma was her dog, and she had every right to look for her, and for the poor little girl she guarded.
“Lia, there’s a fire, a big one. The dog sent after Karma . . . I don’t know, something happened, the dog spooked maybe from the fire and went AWOL. Had a hell of a time keeping September from going into the fire after ’em.”
September? She should have guessed. Lia’s heart ached for the woman’s separation from her dog. Her worry for Karma and Mele ramped up ten-fold now that the orange glow and sirens made sense. As if to punctuate the knowledge, Fury shook his head and snorted. Lia cleared her throat. “How close?” Lia grabbed the reins, tightening her grip, and the horse sidestepped with a hopscotch gait in reaction.
“Not sure. We retrieved Vicki’s body but they’re still collecting evidence. Had to suspend until we know the status of the fire. With this wind, we’ve got to leave it to the firefighters. So should you. Get the hell out of there, before the fire catches you.”
She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see. “Mele’s just a kid. And Karma will try to protect the girl, but she won’t know what to do with fire.” Fury neighed and tossed his head again, as if agreeing with her. “If what you say is true, there’s no time to argue. I’m not searching blind, Combs. I know how to find them.”
Chapter 42
Karma snorted and coughed foamy saliva between deep-chested panting. Her tongue hung from one side of her square muzzle, thick and sticky-dry. Even though the sun no longer stood high overhead, the heat made it hard to breathe. She longed to wade in cool mud, belly flop into pungent water, and drink her fill. The horse tank beckoned.
Along the way, Karma stopped to “take-a-break” several more times, even though she had little urine left to spend. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed important.
Mele favored one foot, hobbled by a shambling gait, and finally slowed and stopped. Karma drew close and leaned against the girl’s bare thigh.
“Ua `ālina au.” The girl’s whimpering tone communicated more clearly than any words. Mele hurt.
Karma wanted to stop, too. Her eyes hurt, and she blinked away grit from the dusty air. She lifted her muzzle into the wind, and sniffed long and deep. Water. Not far now.
Smoke colored the air. Karma couldn’t tell if fire stalked from behind or raced from the front to cut them off. Gusts tossed and shredded scent-cues, making it hard to read. She dropped her nose to the ground, where spore pooled in the dips and valleys between grass hummocks, trying to get her bearings. But Karma knew water in the tank didn’t move. It stayed in one place. She knew the way.
Whining, Karma nosed the girl’s hand, panting hot breath against her skin. Mele pulled away and took a step forward. Licking her thigh, and poking with her blunt muzzle, Karma again urged the girl forward. Karma herded the girl in a stop-and-go progress, until Mele saw the stand of trees with glittering water below.
With a cry, Mele broke into a staggering run. Karma loped alongside, thwarting her own impulse to reach the water as quickly as possible. Lia told her to watch and guard. That meant staying with Mele, even though the girl ran slower than a puppy.
Mele stumbled across the cracked muddy border where the tank’s level had dropped to half-normal capacity. She collapsed, sitting in the mud. She splashed dirty water up her legs and down both arms, trying to cup mouthfuls to drink, ignoring the green scum coating the edges of the tank.
Karma relished the squishy sound and feel of black clay between her toes. She liked the smell of it, too, and waded up to her knees. The sluggish warm water cooled her skin, relief from the furnace-hot air, and Karma lapped and lapped as fast as she could, gulping and swallowing every third or fourth scoop. It would taste better cold, but even warm water tasted delicious.
The pair sat in the wet for a while, enjoying the mud. Mele even scooped water and tossed it at Karma with a giggle. Startled, Karma dodged and yelped before realizing Mele meant to play. Karma shook herself, hard, and flopped forward when she stepped into a hidden hole beneath the water. Her head submerged until she flailed upright and regained her footing.
She didn’t like water in her face, not at all. A good-dog couldn’t trust water to stay quiet and still. It might rush along and sweep her away, like before. Dogs drank water. Water cooled hot paws. Anything else could be dangerous.
Karma splashed her way to the shallows, and flopped in the shade of a tree, panting happily when the young girl joined her. Mele drew up her knees and leaned against the tree, resting one hand on Karma’s neck, rubbing gently. Bliss!
A sound and then a scent bristled Karma’s hackles. She shook off the girl’s caress, and stood, square and powerful between Mele and potential danger.
“Please no, no, no.” Mele reacted to Karma’s alert with a whimper. She scrambled behind the massive trunk of the tree.
But this wasn’t Boss. The one Mele feared walked on two legs, not four paws. Testing the breeze, Karma recognized a scent with a weird thrill of anticipation. She trembled with excitement when the familiar black shepherd stepped into view.
It had been a long time since her near drowning, many more days than Karma could count since he walked into the night and out of their life. Now Shadow, the Koa-warrior had returned.
Karma danced forward, bowing and prancing, with half-muttered joyous exclamations bubbling from her throat. Shadow had followed the scented signposts she’d left along the way, marks announcing her status. She’d yearned for something, never knowing he would answer.
They’d both changed. His wounds had healed, and Shadow puffed his powerful chest and arched his neck. She was no longer a puppy.
Shadow paced forward. Karma sidestepped to meet him with a flirtatious gait, flagging her tail to one side, but only a moment. She allowed a brief sniff before teasing him to join her in the dance as old as time. Karma spun, racing away in a butt-tuck joyous romp around the perimeter of the tank, splashing mud in her wake.
The black shepherd accepted the invitation. The pair play-bowed and pranced, taking turns who chased who, which sniffed and returned the sniff, testing boundaries, relearning their scents, discovering what each needed, expected and demanded.
Long-ago days as a nine-week-old pup, Karma begged for Shadow’s attention with muzzle licks and bared tummy. She’d showed proper deference to the potent, older shepherd, as was his right. But now, by the light of an orange moon, Karma directed each move. When he paused the dalliance to drink, she chastised him, egged him on by mounting his side before dashing away with Shadow in eager pursuit. Finally, Karma allowed her suitor to catch her.
Mele watched from behind the tree, in awe as the lithe black shepherd wooed the flirtatious Rottweiler maiden. The joyous ritual filled with such affection was strangely, achingly beautiful. Mele touched the heart pendant at her throat, and wept for all she had lost.
Chapter 43
Lia gave Fury his head for the moment, waiting for Combs to come back on the line. He’d already given her an earful. M
aybe she deserved it.
Now he wanted her to give him Karma’s location for him to find. She wished it were that simple. The GPS on the phone only worked within a limited area—about two miles. So far, Karma didn’t show up, and that worried Lia. The device was waterproof but not fire resistant. She’d already explained her theory about the water tanks. Fire complicated everything. Riding blind into a blaze could at best delay the rescue, or leave Lia and Fury hurt or worse. Karma and the girl might have already been caught in the fire—
No! She had to trust that Karma would keep Mele safe. As much as Lia wanted to kick Fury into a frantic gallop after the pair, she agreed to allow Combs’s technology to steer her clear of the fire.
He came back on the phone. “Okay, I’ve got an online aerial view of wildfires on my laptop. Two new hot spots just appeared in the past hour. One erupted not far from where you found the body.”
She flinched at the news, and Fury jittered forward. Had it become harder to breathe? Orange glow turned the horizon to blood, and wispy tendrils played tag across the moon’s face.
“Lia, you there? Send a screen shot of the cattle tank locations in relation to the access road.” He paused, talking to someone else, maybe his partner, before adding, “We can overlay your map with the fire and figure out safest rescue paths.”
“Okay, but I have to hang up to text. My old phone can’t text and access the application at the same time.”
“Wait, before you hang up, where are you now?” Combs’s grim tone raised her own concerns. “A third fire just broke out along the access road. Either the wind drop-kicked embers in unexpected directions, or we’ve got an arsonist in the mix.”
“Must be the route the killer used to dump Vicki. I’m maybe a mile the other side of the road. It’s a shortcut we use, my horse knows the way.” In fact, Fury had picked up his pace, probably smelling the water. That, or getting spooky about the smoke. Maybe both.