Mikaele wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Pumehana reached for the young man’s shoulder. “You don’t know if you saw your own brother before he died?”
Guilt washed over the boy’s features. He looked as if he might cry. “Okay, I saw him. But only for a minute.”
“Was it at the blowhole?” Miranda asked.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t there very long.” He pulled out of his father’s grip.
“Where did you go after that?” his father demanded. “You haven’t been hanging out with that Ha’aheo guy again, have you?”
“No, Dad,” he sneered.
Instinct pricked at Miranda’s heart. “Who’s Ha’aheo?”
“Jonathan Ha’aheo,” the father told her. “An older kid. He’s in his early twenties, actually. He was arrested for causing a ruckus on Front Street with his buddies a month or so ago. He told the police Mikaele was with him that night.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Pumehana looked like he didn’t buy that at all. “We’ll make sure you won’t.”
The kid rolled his eyes.
Miranda scooted up to the bar and used her gentlest tone. “I’m not here to get you in any trouble, Mikaele. I just need information. What was Keola doing at the blowhole last night?”
His head down, the boy lifted and dropped his skinny shoulders. “I don’t know. I think he was meeting someone.”
“Who?”
“How should I know?”
“Because you were there.” She gave the gentleness a bit of edge. “Maybe for longer than you want to admit? Did you have something to do with what happened to your brother?”
He glared at her. “No. Hell, no.”
“Don’t use that kind of language in here, son.”
“It’s a freaking bar, Dad. Why are you picking on me? I’m in mourning, too.” Defiantly, he brushed back a strand of hair and Miranda spotted a mark on his arm.
She grabbed his wrist and turned it over.
“Hey, lady. What do you think you’re doing?”
“What’s this?” She pointed to the design.
It was a tattoo of a fiery torch with eerie, ghostly flames shooting from it. It reminded her of Keola’s show last night.
“It’s nothing. It’s to honor my brother.”
Pumehana stared at the mark in alarm. “When did you get that?”
“Last night.” That much was true. The skin was still red and swollen around the edges.
“Is that what I think it is? Is that Huaka’i Po?”
Miranda frowned. “The Night Marchers?”
Pumehana nodded. “They’re a local gang. They’ve taken the name of that ghost legend. We think Ha’aheo’s involved with them.”
Mikaele’s eyes grew wide. He pulled out of Miranda’s grip. “Leave me alone.”
“Son, tell us what happened last night.”
“I don’t know what happened. And I don’t have to talk to her. She’s not the cops.” With that, he turned and sprinted to the back of the building, leaving his burger unfinished and slamming a door behind him.
Pumehana ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry for his behavior.”
“I have enough to work with.” She pushed off the barstool and stood. “Thank you for your time.” She turned to go.
“Miranda.”
She turned back. “What?”
“I’d like…”
She braced herself. “You’d like what?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to come by the house while you’re here. You could meet…everyone.”
Meet his new wife? His new family? “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“I’d really like them to meet you.”
The boy never gave a hint of recognition just then. No doubt her father had never mentioned his other daughter to his new family.
So now she should just come waltzing over and get to know everyone just like that? All cozy and happy? Like nothing had ever happened? He had to be out of his mind.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Dad. I can’t do that.”
“Okay, maybe that was a bad idea. But maybe you could stop by here later? So we could talk again? I can hang around a while.”
It was only her stubbornness that kept her from bursting into angry tears and cussing him out. She’d worshiped the man when she was a little girl. He was her whole world. And then one day, he was gone and her life had been hell ever since. How could he think a smile and a hug could undo all the damage he’d caused?
She drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders. “If I learn anything further about the case, I’ll let you know. But I have no intention of having a relationship with you.”
And with that, she turned and walked out.
“Miranda,” she heard him call out as she picked up her suitcase from its spot in front of the bamboo divider. She ignored him and kept going.
She stepped out into the sunlight and blinked as her whole body began to throb with shock. How she’d kept it together this long, she had no idea. She had to get away from here.
A cab. She needed another cab. She scanned the street and spotted the shiny red BMW convertible parked along the curb. Parker sat behind the wheel watching her.
As if on automatic pilot, her legs moved to the car. “How long have you been here?” It couldn’t have taken him more than a few minutes to tail her here.
“I pulled up just as you went inside.”
“And you sat here all this while?”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“You knew who the owner of that bar was, who Keola’s father was, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.” His eyes were full of pity and apology.
“You didn’t rush in and try to rescue me?”
“No.” His voice was more somber than she’d ever heard it. Sitting here and waiting must have been hard for him. He was used to running things. He studied her. He had to see how shaken she was. “Are you all right?”
She blew out a breath. “I’ve been better. But I’ll handle it.”
“Miranda, I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“For?”
“For everything. For going behind your back to look for your father. For taking you here to Maui and pretending it was only for a honeymoon. For hiding the truth from you. Will you forgive me?”
She stared at him, her heart melting. No man had ever apologized to her before. Her life had been hell since her father abandoned her. She’d married an abusive jackass. She’d lost her only child. She’d spent years roaming the country, hopping from one meaningless job to another. And then she’d gone to Atlanta and met Parker.
And suddenly, her life had gotten better.
As if programmed, she lifted her suitcase and put it in the backseat. Then she opened the passenger door and got inside. “When you put it that way, I guess I’ll have to.”
Relief washed over his face. “Where to?” he asked, watching her snap her seatbelt with trembling hands.
“Any place but here.”
Chapter Nineteen
Parker steered them past the quaint shops on Front Street, past the storefronts and restaurants on Papalaua Street. After they’d turned onto the Honoapiilani Highway and were beyond the shopping centers and residences, Miranda put her hands to her face and wondered if she would ever stop shaking.
She turned her head inland, stared at the silver blue mountains in the distance and reminded herself this was far from over. She still had to find Keola’s killer. She had to keep it together a little while longer.
“We have to go back to the blowhole,” she murmured in a robotic tone.
“Why is that?”
“Keola’s younger brother was there with him last night. We have to reexamine the scene in the light of that.”
Parker glanced at her with shock. “You spoke with
him at the bar?”
She nodded. “His name’s Mikaele.”
“What was he doing at the blowhole?”
“He wouldn’t say. And he wasn’t there long, if you can believe him. He’s sixteen. A rebellious kid who’s been kicked out of school.”
“That’s not good.”
“No. He had a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He said he got it last night. It looked fresh.”
“What sort of tattoo?”
“A torch. All fiery and angry. He said it was in honor of his brother. But—Pumehana,” she didn’t know what else to call him, “thought it was a gang tat.”
Parker noted the use of her father’s nickname. They obviously hadn’t made amends while she was in the bar. Not that he had expected it. “What gang?”
“The Night Marchers. Huaka’i Po. Remember the story? A hoard of dead island warriors carrying torches and wandering about, who can kill you with a single glance?”
“That’s the gang’s name?”
“That’s what he said. Guess it makes them sound frightening and powerful. And now it sort of makes sense that Keola put the story in his show. He was sending out some kind of warning to protect his brother. He was popular enough that word of his new act would spread to any gang member in the area and let them know he knew who were they were. And he’d be watching. That’s my theory, anyway.”
“Quite plausible. A gang,” Parker said darkly, as if he took the information personally. “Did the brother give you any names of the members?”
“No, but Pumehana knew about one. A twenty-something named Ha’aheo. He’s got a record. Was arrested for stealing valuables from cars about a month ago. Sounds like it fits.”
Parker gripped the steering wheel and forced himself to focus on the traffic in front of him before he ran off the road. He’d better pull over before he had a wreck. The highway ran along the beach front here. He spotted the park where he’d found Miranda this morning. He turned into the entrance.
There were more vehicles here now. People were eating lunch at picnic tables or playing on the beach. The second BMW was gone. He’d called the rental company earlier and they’d already fetched it. He pulled into a semi-secluded spot under a palm tree and turned off the engine.
Miranda glared at him, alarm in her eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“What was the gang member’s first name?”
“Jonathan. Jonathan Ha’aheo. You know the guy?”
The son. Fifteen years of private investigation forced his jaw to clamp shut, but his heart threw down a different gauntlet. No more secrets. He’d promised himself that. It was time he started living up to it.
The sound of the crashing waves in her ears, Miranda watched the tension lining Parker’s face. Behind his gray eyes she could see he was reliving something. She knew it.
No wonder he knew so much about this place. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
It took awhile, but at last, he nodded. “Yes. It was my last big case before Sylvia became ill.”
Sylvia. He paused again and Miranda braced herself. This sounded like it was going to be painful. Well, painful memories seemed to be on the menu today. “Go on.”
“There was a young student at the Agency. Ryo Nakamura.”
She knew that name. “The one who sent you those text messages?” The messages she’d found on his phone.
“Yes. He was one of the best graduates the Agency had. I wish he had stayed on, but he chose to return home and follow in his father’s footsteps with the police.”
Police? “Here in Lahaina?”
“Yes.”
Parker knew someone on the police force here personally. She’d assumed Detective Nakamura was private. The punches just kept coming. “Do you know Balondo, too?”
“No.”
That made it a little easier. “Okay. So you’ve got an in with the department here. That’s a good thing. This Nakamura can help us cut through some red tape, right?”
“No. He’s on leave as of yesterday.”
“Leave?”
“He and his wife are in California. It’s the first vacation he’s had in four years.”
“Oh.” Just her luck. “So what about this Ha’aheo guy?”
She watched him steady himself, gather his thoughts. Parker never liked to talk about his past cases. Whether because of some distorted sense of humility or because they were too painful, she could never tell. But this time it was different. After a long moment, he drew in air and began.
“Four years ago Ryo was working a big case. A gang had taken root here in Lahaina and he was after the leader. The suspect was dealing drugs, running weapons, gaining power, growing more dangerous with every week that passed. Ryo felt the job was beyond the manpower he had. He couldn’t get help from Oahu or Hawaii at the time, so he turned to me. I agreed to help. Judd came with me. After some investigation, we managed to track down the suspect in a ramshackle house on Kuhua Street.”
She watched fierce storm clouds form on his face. She’d seen that look before one night when they dealt with a wife beater.
“We thought we had the house surrounded, but he climbed out a window. He ran across the street and over a fence into the yard of a warehouse. We followed him. I was the closest. I had him in my sights. I shouted to him to surrender. He didn’t.”
“He got away?”
Parker shook his head. “I went around a corner and he was standing there, a .38 in his hand. Aimed at my chest.”
Miranda’s stomach tightened. “What happened? ”
“My weapon was already drawn, of course. I tried to talk him down, tell him the rest of the force would be here any second. We had the evidence to put him away for years and it would be wise to cooperate. But he just cussed at me and insulted my intelligence for siding with law enforcement.”
Cussed? Insulted his intelligence? That had to be the cleaned up version.
“Ryo caught up with me. I heard him come around the corner behind me. I thought his appearance would convince the man I hadn’t been bluffing. But the suspect panicked. I saw the flash of his gun. He turned it on Ryo. Before he could get off a shot, I took aim and fired. He went down. It all happened in a split second.”
“Oh, my God. Did he—”
“Not right away. I hit him in the abdomen. An ambulance came and took him to the infirmary. He lived long enough to be taken to prison in Oahu. Eight days later, he died from the wound I gave him.”
Miranda watched Parker inhale, exhale. He took such things to heart. “He was a criminal,” she told him. “You stopped him from peddling drugs to young kids and Lord knows what else.”
He nodded, as if he’d told himself that a thousand times. “Afterwards, I learned he had a wife. She committed suicide shortly after he died.”
“No.” Her voice was a whisper now.
“And there was an eighteen-year-old son. His grandfather would be taking care of him now. I’d made him an orphan. I sent a check to the family after I returned to Atlanta. It was never cashed. I would have followed up, but then Sylvia came home from the doctor with those bad test results.” He drew a hand over his face.
Miranda’s heart went out to him. She knew Parker had been through hell back then. “Who was he?”
“The suspect? His name was Robert Ha’aheo.”
She stared at him, her stomach quivering at the name. “You think…he was the father of Jonathan Ha’aheo? That Jonathan was the eighteen-year-old son?”
The lines in Parker’s face deepened. “Yes. That was the son’s name. And it sounds like he’s following in his father’s footsteps.”
All the more reason to act. “We need to go the blowhole, Parker. We need to get inside that sea cave we saw.”
“Because?”
“Because of what you said. Contraband. There’s no telling what we might find in there.”
Parker considered the idea. “That sea cave might not have a thing to do with Keola’s death.”
But
she’d felt something when she’d climbed over that volcanic cliff and stared at that cave. The sensation had been unmistakable. The same one she’d felt just before she’d found Keola’s body. She wondered for an instant if she were psychic or something. But her strange feelings didn’t prove anything either.
She lifted a shoulder. “You’re right. On the other hand, that whole area could be where the Night Marchers conduct business. It’s remote. At night it’s pretty secluded. We won’t know anything more until we get inside.”
Parker rubbed his chin, shaking off the bad memories of the past. It was part of the job, after all. He stared out at the ocean. She followed his gaze.
The waves were rough now, angrier. The wind was kicking up sand and strong enough to blow her hair away from her face.
“We’d need a boat to get inside the cave.”
Miranda waved a hand. “Ought to be easy for you to get one.”
Parker was still hesitant. “Even if we did find evidence of gang activity in the cave, it would hardly prove Jonathan killed Keola.”
She listened to the laughter of children playing on the beach. A beach ball flew into the air. Several swimmers were out on the water. Someone was trying to tame an obstinate wave with a surfboard. “You never know. There could be some sort of evidence.”
“There was no murder weapon.”
“So?”
“So that means an outside chance of finding circumstantial evidence.”
She frowned, frustrated by his skepticism. But he sounded more convinced Keola was murdered now that a gang member—one whose background he knew—might be involved. “Circumstantial evidence is better than none. Besides, Mikaele saw his brother at the blowhole last night. He said Keola was waiting for someone.”
“Will he testify to that in court?”
She blew out a breath. “Probably not. I had a hard time getting that much out of him. But we’re wasting time. How fast can you get that boat? You know how to drive one, don’t you?”
“I do, but it might not be a good idea right now.”
“Why not?”
“With the rising tide and the trade winds, it could be dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid of a little danger. Are you?”
Fire Dancer Page 12