by D. V. Berkom
"No. Yes. Yeah. I guess you could say that." I smiled, regaining my composure.
He raised his eyebrows as he looked me over. "Seriously? You can eat a whole pie and still look that good? Damn." He grinned. I couldn't help but grin back.
"Weren't you on the beach the other morning?" he asked.
"Yep, that was me." My attention shifted to the carving he wore around his neck. "That's quite a piece."
"Thanks. It's my talisman." He held it up and pointed to a graceful curve, punctuated by the mother of pearl. "This signifies water."
I leaned in closer to get a better look. He smelled good, like coconut and citrus.
"And this," he indicated the other side of the carving, which resembled a gecko, "represents the earth. The bird figure is a symbol for air."
"It's well done." I'd seen the cheaper, machine-carved pieces, and this was definitely not one of those.
"I've been doing it since I was a kid."
"You carved this?" I'd met several carvers, and most of them were well into their forties before they'd made it to this level. Not to mention the best ones tended to be islanders, backed up by centuries of tradition. Alek couldn't have been more than early thirties, and had light brown hair and blue eyes. Not exactly native. He looked down at both of our sandwiches.
"You need company? It so happens I'm free for the next hour."
We got lucky and scored a table outside. A party of four left as we walked out the door. I took it as a good sign.
"I'm Alek," he said, extending his hand.
I shook it and replied, "Evelyn." I'd been reading a book with a character named Evelyn. It sounded good.
"Well, Evelyn, do you live around here?"
I shook my head and took a bite of my sandwich. "Nope. Just visiting." No sense giving him any ideas. It was nice to have an actual conversation with someone, though. And, having lunch was innocent enough. I doubted he'd end up dead because of one meal.
The conversation acquired a kind of patina it might not have, had I been willing to see him again. One habit I'd developed in response to living life on the run was a profound appreciation for simple, everyday events. Like a friendly conversation with someone interesting.
And, not being dead.
After we finished our sandwiches, I offered him a slice of pie. He squinted at me, tilting his head.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to deprive you."
I rolled my eyes and pushed the piece toward him. "Like I need the entire calorie-laden goodness. Take it."
He laughed and dug in.
"How long have you lived around here?"
Alek shrugged and took a sip of his soda. "Most of my life. I lived in California until my folks died. A family friend took me in until I could make it on my own. I've been here ever since."
"What made you get into carving?"
"My uncle. Actually, he's the family friend, but he's like my uncle. He's one of the best. Comes from a long line of carvers."
That explained a lot. "I noticed your tattoo this morning. It's Hawaiian, right?"
He nodded and sat up straighter. "Yeah. The design belongs to my uncle's family."
As we continued our conversation, I deflected most of his questions about me with generic answers. He seemed to accept my reticence to talk about myself.
When we finished our slices of pie, he picked up the paper plates and napkins and threw them in the trash. Then he walked back to the table and sat down next to me. Close. He exuded a raw sexuality that almost took my breath away. I moved a few inches away from him, trying to get some distance. After what happened with Sam, I wasn't in a rush to get involved with someone new. The pain that came with leaving him in Alaska was too fresh, too raw. I'd have to wall myself off from those kinds of emotions for now.
Or maybe forever?
"When can I see you again?" he asked.
"I'm sure we'll see each other at the beach."
"No, I mean something more. Give me a time, a date, your phone number. Whatever."
"Sorry," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm not staying long. I'd like to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. Let's just leave it at this. I enjoyed talking with you. A lot. Okay?"
The surprised expression on his face morphed into what appeared to be anger. Then, like an afternoon squall it passed, replaced by a crooked grin. He shrugged.
"Hey, no problem." He rose and flashed the Hawaiian shaka sign. "See you around, Sistah."
"Sure."
He walked away, nonchalant and gorgeous. I'd bet women rarely turned him down. It was probably a shock to his system. I decided I'd be better off avoiding him.
He didn't appear to take rejection well.
***
As I walked back to my scooter, a melancholy feeling drifted over me. It wasn't until I'd stashed the rest of the pie in the side compartment that I realized how much I needed to hear Sam's voice. I pulled out my phone and called information for the hospital's number.
"Hello?"
He sounded far away, weak. I hadn't expected him to answer so quickly and I didn't say anything, too surprised to speak.
"Hello?"
"Sam?" I forced his name out before he hung up.
"Kate- is that you?" He coughed away from the phone. It sounded like he was in a tunnel.
"You're out of ICU."
"They put me here yesterday."
Silence. There was so much to say, but how could I say it? I needed to be there, to touch him, see him, make him know how much he meant to me. How the hell do you do that over a phone?
"Sam, I-" I stopped, unable to form the right words. Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked them away. "I-"
"Are you all right? Nothing's happened?" He coughed again and I heard the bed squeak in the background.
"No, no. I'm fine." I needed something safe to talk about, but this wasn't anywhere close to safe. "How are you feeling?"
"A little messed up from the drugs, but so far, so good."
"I'm so sorry, Sam." I stifled a sob, hoping he didn't hear it.
"Kate-" He sighed. "It's not your fault. It was just bad timing."
"No, it wasn't bad timing. It's my past and I have to take responsibility for it. If I hadn't moved to Alaska and stayed so long in Quileet, this never would have happened to you."
"It happened. Don't look at the past. Always look forward. If it wasn't you, it would have been something else. My job carries risks. You were worth the risk."
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself there, next to his bed. I'd never wanted to be anywhere so desperately.
"Kate."
"What?" It was becoming difficult to hold back my emotions. I'd need to hang up soon.
"We'll see each other again."
He stated it so plainly, as if it were fact. I opened my eyes as a glimmer of hope emerged.
"I have to go." I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. "Take care of yourself."
"You too. Be safe."
I disconnected and stared at the phone in my hand.
I could never let anyone get that close to me again.
THREE
Later that afternoon, I sat in the shade of a palm tree in the backyard with a cold beer and the local newspaper. The headline caught my attention. "Rare Tiki Statue Missing from Royal Hawaiian Museum- Grisly Murder Scene." I was halfway through the article when my phone rang. I checked Caller I.D. It was Gabby.
"Did you see it?" His breathless voice practically vibrated.
"You mean the article about the murder? I'm just now reading it."
"Oh. The murder. Yeah, that was a terrible tragedy, wasn't it? No, I'm talking about the statue. The tiki statue."
Gabby had a collection of rare Polynesian artifacts, many of them tiki related. He'd been invited to lecture around the world about the intricacies and meaning of the ancient carvings. I didn't understand much about tiki spirits, but didn't want to get on their bad side. I'd learned that inexplicable things happened when someone angered the go
ds of Hawaii. To a person who wasn't immersed in the culture from an early age, it was downright spooky. The Hawaiians I met shrugged and couldn't exactly explain it. Not that they were inclined, anyway. They just chalked it up to the way of the gods.
"This is huge. The statue is one of the most important artifacts ever discovered in the area. It's been linked to the earliest days of Hawaiian settlement."
"Did you know the woman who was killed? I'm thinking that was an incredible loss for her family, as well as the museum."
"Sonya Farnsworth. I didn't know her well. She was a volunteer." Gabby's voice dropped an octave. "This stays between you and me, but the security guard who discovered the body showed up at my door late last night, completely freaked out."
"Yeah, seeing a dead body can do that to a person. You knew him?"
"We've known each other for years. But it was more than seeing a corpse. From what he told me, ritual torture was used."
The thought brought back unpleasant memories of Roberto Salazar. I shoved them deep, refusing to relive it. "Like satanic stuff, you mean?"
"Not exactly. That's the intriguing part. It has all the hallmarks of a secretive Hawaiian sect active centuries ago, Kate. The group was shunned by the Kahunas for their unrelenting use of torture. Ritual killings of innocents were used to test the loyalty of new members. Much like violent street gangs do today."
"Couldn't it have been the work of a street gang?"
"Why would common thugs steal an artifact? It can't be fenced. There's no monetary value, at least not to someone without the right connections. Plus, they would have taken more than just the statue. My radar says it was someone itching to revive the old ways."
"Unless someone with those connections hired a thug to steal the statue and suggested the torture might throw law enforcement off their trail."
"Possibly. I still think it has something to do with the sect. When George told me what he'd found, I got chills. His description parallels what little information I've come across."
"Isn't there a huge black market for artifacts? What would that piece be worth?"
"Priceless. I couldn't begin to put a value on it."
"They'd have a hard time unloading it with all the media attention."
"Exactly. Even more reason to assume it was the work of that type of organization."
"How did they make it through security? I would think they'd at least have been caught on camera."
"Nothing showed up on the monitors .Several statues were being restored away from the main building. No one knew except the restoration team and museum staff."
Gabby cleared his throat. "On another, more delicate subject, Henry mentioned you asked him to back off."
"I told you, that's non-negotiable."
Gabby sighed. "I only want to protect you. Henry's good at protecting. Use him."
"No."
"You're a stubborn woman, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
***
The next morning I drove to a different beach, hoping to elude Henry. When I swam back to shore and walked to my things, he was standing next to them, his surfboard by his side.
"You really have to stop, Henry." Working to control my frustration, I stuffed my towel into my beach bag without shaking it off, giving my camera and clothing a sand bath. Good thing I'd stashed my gun in an outer pocket.
"Hey now, easy, Kate." Henry patted me on the shoulder. "No worry 'bout me. I be fine. Can you think of anyone better to take on a contract killer?" He rolled his hips and flexed his biceps, reminding me of a comical Mr. Universe.
I had to laugh.
"I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm going to have to leave Hawaii if you keep it up. And damn it." A heavy sigh escaped me. "I'm tired of running."
Henry watched me for a moment. Then he said, "Okay. I promise you won't see me again." He nudged me in the arm. "We okay?"
I looked up from wrestling with my bag. "We'll always be okay." I gave him a quick hug. "And it will be a long time of okay if you stop hanging out near me. At least for now."
"Gabby's not gonna like this."
"You don't have to tell him that you're not watching me. How's he going to know?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
His expression told me he was wrestling with the whole idea of going against Gabby's wishes, and I knew he'd probably end up telling him, anyway. I'd done everything I could to protect them, short of leaving Hawaii.
We said goodbye and I walked back to my scooter and stowed my things, feeling terrible for having to keep Henry at arm's length. Claustrophobia threatened to take over, and I felt like a rat in a box with no way out. First Gabby, then Henry, Jimmie and Alek. There were too many people who knew I was here. Maybe it was already time to move on, before Salazar's or Anaya's goons caught up with me.
But where?
My mood grew dark at the prospect of always running, never feeling safe. Was there anywhere I could go that they wouldn't find me? Both Anaya's and Salazar's pride ran deep. Neither one would rest until they killed the gringa who stole their money. No matter that I did it to escape Roberto Salazar and his bloodthirsty world. I would have stolen the money anyway, even if I had known it was scheduled to be delivered to his cartel boss, Vincent Anaya.
I'd been that afraid.
In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea I'd ever had. Desperation-based decision making rarely worked for me, but I'd seen no other option. The day Salazar slit the throat of a friend over what was actually nothing, I knew it wouldn't be long before his paranoia seduced him to mistrust even me.
I removed my helmet from the back of the scooter and was about to put it on when I noticed a group of men staring at me from across the parking lot. Alek separated himself from them and strolled over.
"Hey, Evelyn."
My grip tightened on the helmet. How did he know I'd be here? This meeting seemed a tad too coincidental.
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugged, smiled. "I saw your scooter."
My scooter resembled a hundred other ones on the island. No odd identifying marks. "Who are your friends?" The four men stood near the concrete block restrooms, watching us talk.
He glanced at them. "The three on the left are my brothers, and the older dude's my uncle." He leaned in close and said, "They wanted to meet you."
"Why?" Was he serious? This sounded way too much like going home to meet the parents.
Alek's smile froze. "I told them about you. That you were new in town."
I strapped on my helmet and straddled the scooter. I was going to have to nip this non-romance in the bud. Before I could say anything, he grabbed the handlebars and stood in front of me, barring my way.
"Who's the big dude you were talking to?"
I shrugged, unwilling to get Henry mixed up in anything having to do with me. "No one."
"You hugged him. He must be more than that."
"Alek, who he is to me is none of your business. I told you, I wanted to keep things simple."
He frowned, the look of anger I'd seen at the restaurant rising to the surface. I laid my hand on his arm, hoping to calm him.
"I'd be happy to meet your family any other time, but I'm already late for an appointment."
He yanked his arm out from under my hand, his face contorted with anger. Alarmed, I started the scooter.
Then, as if I imagined it, his features relaxed and he smiled. Just like before.
"That's okay, I understand. I'll catch you later, Ev." He turned and swaggered back to his group, attitude dripping with every step.
I didn't wait to see his family's reaction.
***
On my way home, I stopped off at one of the shrimp trucks that dotted the Kam Highway along the North Shore, the incident with Alek replaying in my mind. How did he know where I was going to be that morning? And why did he want me to meet his family? The answers had the words "unstable" and "stalker" attached to them, and I wondered if I should move to anot
her rental. The claustrophobia deepened the more I thought about his behavior.
I sat down at one of the picnic tables to wait for my order when I noticed an older Asian man dressed in a green Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts staring at me from across the patio. His flip flops had seen better days and his wild gray hair stuck out in tufts. Gray-green eyes burned with intensity in a weathered face. I gave him a tentative smile, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He continued to watch me until they called my order.
I grabbed a can of soda from the guy at the window and walked back to my table with a plate of garlic shrimp and two scoops of rice. Before I had a chance to peel the first one, the wild man crossed the concrete floor and sat down across from me. Not knowing what else to do, I held up a shrimp.
"Want some?"
He shook his head and smiled, revealing a gap where a couple of his teeth should have been.
"No? Mind if I eat?" I asked.
He remained silent, losing the smile and frowning as though concentrating. I ate a few of the shrimp, sucking the garlic sauce from the shells, wondering what the hell he was all about, when his eyes rolled back in his head and he let loose with a low moan- similar to a wolf howl, only not as on key. I glanced at the other customers, but no one seemed to care.
Then he started to pant. Like a dog.
I didn't want to stick around for the encore, and stood to leave when his head snapped forward.
"You the one," he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth onto the table between us.
I sat down and tried to remain calm, not wanting to aggravate him. I caught the eye of a woman sitting three tables down. She shrugged and turned back to her lunch. What the hell?
He closed his eyes for a moment and started to mumble to himself. His eyes opened to slits as he shivered from head to toe and began to make a clicking sound with his tongue. Then he leaned forward. I waited, not sure how to respond but ready to run if things got dangerous.
"No worry, Turtle Woman. I no harm." He cocked his head as though listening to something no one else could hear. Then he looked at me, his focus laser-like.