“A red-and-black Hustler Rocket was spotted heading toward Moloka'i. We’re going after it.”
As they passed the mouth of the sea cave, the police boat spun away and kicking up water, headed out to the ocean.
“We should follow them,” Mikaele said.
Miranda gasped out loud. “What about Parker?”
She’d never seen her father’s face so grim. “Ha’aheo could have him with him.” He meant kidnapping.
“Or he could still be in that cave.” And if he were, he was most likely dead.
Considering that, her father nodded. “The tide’s up now. And didn’t you say the police got everything Jonathan had?”
“Yes, they did.”
“What do you think we should do, Miranda?”
An ominous heaviness came over her heart. Either way could be bad news. The worst news. She turned and stared at the yawning mouth. Parker, where are you? And suddenly, she knew. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew. “We’ve got to go check out this sea cave. I think Parker’s in there.”
“The sea cave it is.” He maneuvered the cruiser around, though the choppy waves slowed them down.
With what seemed like a sea snail’s pace he motored toward the cave’s mouth. After another eternity they were inside and in darkness.
“Do you have a light?”
“Several.”
He switched them on and just as before that same, suffocating feeling came over her. This time more intense. She peered over the water. No sign of a boat.
She felt sick. The waves rocked the cruiser. The water was higher by several feet now and more active. You could almost touch the stalactites and the top of the stalagmites stuck out of the water like figurines on a lawn.
Then she saw the curve in the wall. “We’re almost to the bend. Just around there is where we found the loot.”
“I can’t go any farther,” her father said. “These rocks will tear the hull apart.”
She leaned forward and shouted. “Parker. Are you in here? Parker.” Please, dear God. Let him answer.
“Parker,” she called again.
At last a voice echoed in reply. “Miranda. Thank God. I’m over here.”
He sounded weak but that didn’t stop a flood of relief from pulsing through her. “We’re just around the corner. Past the curve in the wall. Can you see the light?”
“Yes, I can see it.”
“Can you get to us?”
“No. I’m chained to the rock where we found the marine boxes.”
Chained? What had Ha’aheo done to him? Panic turned her insides to ice. But sudden rage thawed it fast. “Wait here,” she said to her father and threw her legs over the side of the boat.
“Be careful, Miranda. Those lava spears could go right through you.”
“I’ll be careful.” She let herself down sucked in her breath and dove under. A wave rose over her head, and she had to rotate and butterfly her way down before her feet touched the cave floor. Once there, she stood and fear gripped her. The water was at least a foot over her head. And rising. If she didn’t get to Parker fast, he’d drown.
She squatted, pushed up again. “I need a light,” she said as soon as she her head popped through the water.
“Here.” Mikaele tossed a lighted globe into the water. “It’s got a strap.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed it, slung the strap over her shoulder and began free-styling as fast as she could toward the bend.
“Watch out for the rocks,” her father warned again.
She slowed a little, fighting her panic and feeling for the sharp spears as she went. It seemed to take an hour before she made it around the corner, but at last she did.
She couldn’t see anything beyond a few feet. “Parker,” she called.
“Over here.”
She swept the light over the water in the direction of where they had spotted Jonathan’s marine boxes. In the dark shadows, she could make out a figure. There was Parker, treading water. He must be exhausted.
“I see you. I’m coming.”
“Be careful. The lava rocks.”
“I know. I’m fine.” She felt her way, like a blind man through an obstacle course of sabers and daggers. Just as she thought the slow pace would drive her insane, she reached him. “I’m here.”
“Thank God.” He gasped air and reached for her.
She ran her hands over his arms. As she pulled one across her shoulder she thought nothing had ever felt so good. “That’s right. Hold onto me.”
He rested on her shoulder moment. His head was bleeding. “Must’ve been one hell of a fight.”
“It was at that.”
One of his eyes was dark and swollen. She wondered what Ha’aheo looked like.
“How did you get here?”
“Speedboat. My father’s.”
He looked surprised but there was no time for explanations. “Ha’aheo’s on his way to Oahu,” Parker told her. “He confessed to killing Keola. But he wanted revenge for his father’s death at my hands. And for his mother. He chained my ankle to the rock. One of the chain’s he used for the marine boxes. It’s padlocked. I tried to break it open at the base, but it was too strong.”
“Good thing I happened along.” She tried to sound cheery, but at the moment she wanted to wrap that chain around Ha’aheo’s neck.
“The police must have confiscated my lock picks when they took the loot. Does your father have a bolt cutter?”
He probably had some tools, but it would take forever to swim back to the cruiser and get them. “Wait a minute.”
“What?”
Her mind raced. The police had taken Parker’s leather pouch when they found him here. But she’d still had the picks in her hand. She’d slipped them into her pocket without thinking. Good thing Balondo’s man had missed that corner when he searched her at the station.
“I think have them. I just need to get to them.” She looked around but there was nowhere to pull her butt out of the water. “Hold on to me. Can you do that?”
“Of course.”
He held onto her shoulders and she let her body float up and turned on her side. The exposed pocket of her jeans was soaked through. She held it with one hand and carefully dug in with the other. It wasn’t easy, but at last her fingers touched the long, thin metal pieces.
Wanting to shout for joy, she eased them out of her pocket. “Got ’em.”
“Don’t drop them.”
“I won’t.” The force of the current was getting stronger, but stubbornly she held onto the picks.
“Give them to me.” His hands were cold. He had a black eye, a bloody noggin and he looked totally spent.
She shook her head. “You’re too tired. I’ll be right back.”
Before he could respond, she opened her mouth and inhaled the deepest breath she’d ever taken in her life. She secured the picks between her teeth and dove under the surface just as Parker began to protest.
As hard as she could, she paddled downward. The current was strong. The silt had kicked up and the water was murky, making it almost impossible to see. But remembering Parker had been in the dark all this while, she forced herself to concentrate. She could do this.
Stubbornly she felt her way along the surface of the thick spear of lava until her fingers touched the chain. She pulled herself along it, being careful not to yank it down and drag Parker under the surface.
His legs were moving. Part of what was kicking up the silt.
His shoes were off. And the ankle that was bound was bloody where he’d pulled against it. Heartbreak swelled inside her, but she knew she couldn’t afford to give in to it.
She found the padlock, picked it up and focused on the keyhole.
Slowly, carefully, she slipped the L-shaped mini-wrench out of her mouth and inserted it. She turned it clockwise. That seemed right.
Holding it in place, she took the pick out of her mouth and was just about to put it into the keyhole when the force of a wave overhead pus
hed her back against the stalagmite. She held on tight to the picks and the padlock.
She could see Parker had come below the surface. He was holding his breath, thank God. He frowned at her as if to ask what the hell was going on. She gave him a look to tell him she was doing the best she could and gestured for him to go back up. He seemed to get the message and swam upward.
She followed his movements, pulled the chain upward to give him as much space as possible. By some miracle she was still holding onto the picks.
One more time.
She got the lock in place, took the wrench and forced it into the hole. Summoning patience she didn’t possess, she inserted the pick. She could barely feel the pins with the water, but she tried. Come on, come on. She eased the pick out and gave the lock a tug.
Nothing. Damn.
If only she wasn’t such a newbie at lock picking. Why hadn’t Parker taught her this trick before?
She tried again. This time she thought she almost had it, but the lock wouldn’t budge. She was running out of air. Her heart breaking, she removed the wrench, put both tools back between her teeth and swam to the surface.
She broke through the water and grabbed the picks out of her mouth in time to gasp for air.
“No luck?” Parker was trying to look suave and cool.
“I’m working on it, dammit. And you can drop the nonchalant act.”
“Do it your way,” he said in a deadly calm voice.
She frowned at him. “My way?”
“The way you did before.”
Now she remembered what she’d done to get the marine box open. “Got it.”
She took another deep breath and dove down. She found the padlock more quickly this time, but the water was getting rougher. Time was running out. There was almost no slack left for the chain. If she didn’t get him out of here fast he’d be underwater.
Forcing herself to stay calm, once more she took the wrench out of her mouth and shoved it into the keyhole. That part she could do. It was just this next part she was having trouble with. The part that actually opened the lock.
Once more, she eased the pick into the end of the cylinder, felt for the pins. Her way. It was her last chance. Could she do it? She had to try. Here goes nothing, she thought, and jerked the pick back out.
The U-shaped part slid up and the lock opened.
It took a second for her to realize he was free. She put the tools back into her mouth and carefully pulled the lock off the chain. She slipped the shackle off Parker’s ankle. He was free. She couldn’t believe it.
He was free.
She swam back to the surface as fast as she could, pulled the picks from her mouth. “I did it.”
“So I see. Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He drew her to him and gave her a kiss so hot, it might have evaporated the entire Pacific Ocean if she’d let it last.
Instead she pulled away. She wouldn’t be satisfied until they were on dry land. “No time for that, Parker. I’ve got to get you back to the boat. You’re too tired to swim. Hang onto my shoulders. And be careful of these rocks.”
Her heart almost broke at the sound of his laugh in her ears. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Miranda inhaled and reached for Parker’s hand to let him help her out of the BMW. As handsome as he was in his navy swim trunks and robe, the black patch over his swollen eye still made her wince. He had a concussion to match hers, cuts on his hands and a slight limp, but he’d insisted on coming with her today.
An easy silence between them, they strode across the packed parking lot and down to the beach.
Along the shoreline a crowd of people milled about.
They were all ages, from children to the aged. A few were in black, some in white, others in the bright Hawaiian colors people wore here for mourning. Some were in jeans, some in swim wear. Many wore leis and carried surfboards. A few had canoes or kayaks.
The sun had just come up and the golden colors played over sky and water. Somewhere someone was playing a lovely, sad tune on a ukulele.
Miranda made her way over the sand in her flip-flops, gazing at the spectacle. “There must be a couple of hundred people here.”
“Keola was well loved,” Parker observed in that quiet way of his.
She spotted Dominic Wainani, the creative director from the luau, and Nahele, Keola’s replacement, and even Minoaka. The tough-talking luau boss must have a soft spot, after all. Of course, there was a hoard of young girls, all gathered into small groups and grieving with much pomp and show, in the way young girls do.
As they strolled along, she noticed a small shrine. Photos of Keola in full costume performing with his fiery torches. The pictures were nestled among palm fronds and lilies. Several leis completed the memorial.
Wrapping her arms around the light T-shirt that covered her swimsuit, Miranda studied his intent, good-looking face. She pressed her lips together as emotion rolled over her. “I wish I could have saved him.”
Parker touched her shoulder and put his mouth to her temple in a soft kiss. “You did all you could.”
She nodded, despite what her heart was telling her.
She took a few breaths and thought she’d gotten herself under control when a gentle hand touched her arm.
Letting out a small gasp, she spun around and saw a small Polynesian woman in a flowing blue swim robe with an expression on her face as wise as a sensei. A deep red lei hung around her neck and she held four white, long-stemmed peace lilies in one hand.
Her long black hair had a touch of gray at the temples and was tied back in a colorful ribbon. She must have been in her late forties or early fifties, but her delicate features made her seem younger. She was, in fact, stunning.
Her deep brown eyes were tinged with red and bloodshot from recent crying, but they brimmed with compassion and tenderness. “I’m so sorry to startle you. Are you—Mrs. Parker?”
“Yes,” she answered cautiously.
“I’m Leilani Steele.” She made a short, cordial bow to her and Parker. “Thank you both for coming. It means so much to Edward.”
Miranda opened her mouth, not knowing what to say.
Parker spared her the awkwardness by extending a hand. “It’s so good to meet you, Mrs. Steele. Though we’re both very sorry for the occasion.”
“Mahalo. Thank you.” She shook with Parker then took both Miranda’s hands in hers and smiled sadly. “Thank you both for finding my son’s killer.”
Parker accepted her gratitude with a gracious nod. “And my thanks to your husband and son for helping to save my life. I’m sure you know the police caught up with Jonathan Ha’aheo at Molokai when he stopped to refuel his boat.”
“Yes, at Kaunakakai. Sergeant Balondo called us last night and told us.”
“Did he mention the fight Ha’aheo put up?” Parker asked.
“No, he didn’t.”
“It took three officers to subdue him, but they finally got him in handcuffs. He’s threatening to sue for abuse.”
Miranda had heard all of that when Balondo called them at the clinic where she’d taken Parker to get patched up, but she still had to smirk. “You’re the one who ought to be suing,” she said to Parker. “So I guess he’s going to prison for a long time.” She couldn’t be sad about that.
“His sentence won’t be a light one.”
They fell silent.
Leilani took advantage of the pause to change the subject. “Miranda…may I call you Miranda?”
“Sure.” The woman still held her hands, but for once, she didn’t feel like pulling away.
“I know this must be very awkward for you, but I want you to feel as welcome with us as any other family member.”
She didn’t know what to make of that. Miranda stared into Leilani’s warm, motherly eyes and knew why her father had married her. She must have been awfully good for him. “Thank you,” she said at last, dropping her hands.
A young woman touched Leilani’s ar
m. She was in a bright yellow swimsuit and wore a pink hibiscus lei around her neck. She carried several more on her arm. “Mama, is this her?”
Leilani turned with a cautious smile. “Yes. This is she.”
“I’m Olina. Keola was my brother.”
Miranda couldn’t help staring at the pretty face. Another pink flower sat behind her ear, holding back her dark, wavy hair, which had just the right amount of natural curl. She was probably in her mid-twenties. Round cheeks ending in an angular jaw similar to her own. And big blue eyes the color of hers. She remembered her father had mentioned another daughter.
“Hi,” she squeaked out after what seemed like a year.
“We’re happy to meet you, Olina.” Parker shook hands with her as he had with the mother.
“You don’t have leis. May I?”
“Of course,” Parker answered for both of them, aware of how awkward this was for her.
Miranda watched the young woman drape the garland over Parker’s head, then bent and allowed her to do the same for her. “Thanks,” she murmured.
“You’re so welcome. Mama, did you tell him how grateful we all are to them? For what they did for Keola?”
“Yes, I did.”
The pretty face took on a somber expression as the dark brows knit together. “I didn’t want to believe my brother had been…murdered. But now that the killer’s behind bars…At least that part is over.” Sadly, she hugged herself with her free arm and studied Miranda with an expression that said she was having as much trouble coming to terms with the idea of having a half-sister as Miranda was.
Silence hung in the air until Leilani broke it. “Do you know where your father is? The ceremony is about to start.”
Olina turned to her. “He’s talking to all the customers who came out. Isn’t it wonderful so many people are here? Mikaele is with him. Oh, Mama.” She laid her head against her mother’s neck and the woman embraced her. “Thank you for letting him come home to us. I just couldn’t lose him, too.”
Leilani stroked her daughter’s arm. “I know, dear. I know.”
A warm, loving family. Miranda felt touched and tempted with jealousy at the same time. But she was glad for the boy…her half-brother…and that he had straightened up.
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