“You’d better check your source.”
“What do you mean?”
Cameron studied her face. “Troy Glasier, son of felon Darlene Glasier, sandy hair, small scar on the bridge of his nose?” He touched the side of his own to mark the spot. “He’s not in any facility, nor has he been, except for the brief examination after his supposed overdose. I spoke with him personally just days ago.”
She looked baffled.
“If your informant is your source for the pictures—”
She leaned forward. “What did you mean, attempted murder?”
“Gentry was pushed. Over the falls.”
“Of course.” Bette rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she played that well.”
“Actually she denied it. She couldn’t believe someone wanted her dead, until she found her place trashed. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
She jerked back. “You don’t think I had anything to do with it?”
He shrugged. “You’re harassing, stalking, and making false accusations. Collaborating in a fraud.”
“Those pictures were sent to me—”
“Who’s to say you haven’t taken it a step further?”
“That’s—”
“You’ve made this your personal vendetta. Why?”
She snapped her teeth together. “I’m doing my job.”
“Your job requires you get the facts. Fact one: Troy Glasier never had an affair with Gentry Fox. A true, if misguided, adoration, maybe. He’s offered to set the record straight. What he got from Gentry was someone who believed in him, who gave him an opportunity to deal with the junk in his life. Other people took it and twisted it.”
Bette still looked skeptical.
“He gave me the file because he’s tired of being manipulated by his mother, who planned to blackmail Gentry. Is she your client? Your source? You delivered the threat.”
Bette shook her head. “I saw his interview. I believe him.”
“He lied. What kid wouldn’t lie to cover his backside? He’d already boasted. Now he was getting national attention, not to mention the potential legal pitfalls of a false investigation. Who knows what Mom threatened. She’s a professional irritant.”
Bette grabbed her tea and drank.
“Not only is Troy not suicidal, not contained in a juvenile facility, he’s taking steps in the right direction, facing up to his mistakes.”
She worked her jaw side to side. “You don’t—”
He took out his phone. “Call him yourself, if you don’t believe me. He’s under G.”
She stared at the phone but didn’t take it. They’d gotten a table on the covered porch enclosed by a half wall. The heat of the day was building. “My client has not been anywhere near this island. She couldn’t possibly be involved in Gentry’s accident.”
She. “You and I both know things can be orchestrated from a distance. Look how well she played you.”
Bette tapped her nails on the table. “I think you’re wrong.”
“Based on what? Your animosity toward Gentry?”
“I have nothing—”
“Your own baggage?” He pushed his napkin-clad place setting aside. “Admit it. You can’t wait to nail her. You’re so eager you didn’t even get the facts.”
“Fine.” She drew herself up. “I can’t stand people who damage kids. They ought to pay.”
“Big time. But Gentry hasn’t damaged anyone. Her program gave at-risk kids a place to deal with their damage.”
She moistened her lips. “So she says. I heard otherwise. Ego, disloyalty—”
“Disloyalty?”
Bette picked up her purse and planted it in her lap, a prim and protective position. “You have your opinion—”
“I have firsthand experience.”
“I’ll bet.”
He seethed. “You think this is about sex?”
She looked away. “Women like Gentry—”
“You don’t know the first thing about Gentry. But you and the press have all but destroyed the positive things she did with her troupe. You’ve let your own issues temper the truth, and it stops now.” He stood up, thankful he hadn’t had to eat. “I’ll get the check. If you harass Gentry further, you’d better have concrete proof, or I’ll come down with everything I’ve got.”
She stood. “I don’t harass. I investigate.”
“Investigation 101; let the evidence tell the story.”
She jutted her chin, protruding her hawkish mouth. “If I’ve been mistaken …”
He walked away before she could finish.
In the lot, he phoned TJ in his patrol car. “What’s the word?”
“Bender and Severt tried for question Malakua. He wen bolt.”
“He ran?” If he’d played it cool, the officers might have taken him at his word. “No, brah, never seen dat woman.” Their heads nodding. Celebrity tantrum.
“He one lōlō buggah. He do what he get told, but he nevah tink right on his own.”
“That doesn’t make him less dangerous.”
TJ sighed. “Got one APB on him. We going get da buggah.”
Unless he went mauka and lived off wild fruit, they’d run him down sooner than later on an island as minimally populated as Kauai. With that mug and the dragon sprawling his arm he couldn’t exactly blend in to a crowd.
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
“You got Gentry?”
He fired the engine, wishing he hadn’t left her at the hospital. “She’s with her uncle. I’m on my way there.”
“Bettah watch her, brah.”
It wasn’t the PD’s job to keep her safe, though she could have hired an officer for extra duty. It was their job to determine if a crime against her had been committed. They’d assume Malakua guilty of something, since he’d run, but that might make him take risks. Cameron put his foot to the gas.
Gentry had not told her uncle about Grover Malakua breaking in and stealing her phone. His mental state had deteriorated—a predictable stage in the psychological elements of the rehabilitation, Paul had said—and she could not lay anything else on him. But she’d been out of communication since the luau yesterday, and people would worry if they couldn’t reach her. So when Uncle Rob went for therapy, she used his cell.
Starting with her parents, she let them know her phone had been stolen. She said it as matter-of-factly as she could, but still it amazed her how easily they took it at face value. “At least you weren’t mugged,” Mom offered.
“Of course she wasn’t mugged.” Dad’s tone suggested the very thought absurd.
They spent the next five minutes discussing Uncle Rob. Gentry told them he was being transferred to a treatment center in Palo Alto in the morning. It made no sense for anyone to come now. She didn’t tell them someone had tried to kill her and maimed her uncle in the process, but the irrational desire took hold to curl up between them as she used to in their lofted bedroom.
They would point out all the positives in the situation. Someone pushed you in? Good thing you had all those years of swim lessons. Remember how you threw kisses from the side of the pool?
“I need to call Dave now. If he’s tried and couldn’t reach me, he’ll be frantic.”
Someone wanted her dead, but as long as it didn’t interfere with future contracts he’d be all right. No, that wasn’t fair. If she couldn’t get her mind around it with all the facts, how could she expect people to guess?
“How are ya, doll?” Dave’s gravelly greeting made her smile. Not many people appreciated that term anymore, but with Dave it was both shtick and a true endearment.
She explained the phone situation. “I just wanted you to know I won’t be reachable for a while.”
“We need to cover one point.”
“One that we’ve covered before?”
“The no-nudity clause, yeah whatever. But the extra strictures …”
Even with a no-nudity clause in the contract, there were myriad battles. The specifics in
hers were spelled out in inches covered and inches revealed. Alec’s films could be brutal and always had chemistry, but so far he hadn’t stripped for the cameras, and she didn’t intend to either.
He said, “They reward cooperation.”
“Dave …”
“Just seeing how hard you got hit on the head, doll.”
“Not that hard.”
He sighed. “Okay, but you’re killin’ me.”
“You’re a tough guy.”
“I’m a pussycat.”
She laughed. “Your secret is mine.”
The next calls were like talking through a mouthful of gauze. Nobody recognized her growing desperation—until Cameron came and took one look.
“That bad?”
She turned from the window. “I wonder if anyone knows me.”
“You’re too good an actor.”
Was her whole life just one part after another? Ultimate optimist for her parents, daring adventurer with Uncle Rob, a performing doll, indomitable star. Was she so able to become that she hadn’t learned to be? Her truest sense of self had come when she hadn’t known who she was.
At least with Cameron she didn’t have to pretend. From that first evening on the beach she’d done and said exactly what she meant, and he’d responded accordingly. But that was ending now, this island interlude drawing to a close. “My uncle’s being transferred to a nursing facility in Palo Alto.”
“When?”
“In the morning.”
He joined her at the window. “The police might need you to identify Malakua.”
“Then they’d better hurry.”
“Gentry.” He took hold of her arms. “I don’t think he acted alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Grover Malakua’s a hired thug with no personal motive, and frankly, he’s not smart enough to formulate a plan. That’s why they couldn’t prove motive in the vehicular homicide charge.”
“Then—”
“I don’t think it’s some kook you’ve picked up. And I don’t think it’s random.”
Not random? Then someone she knew was …
He drew her close. “I don’t mean to scare you. But if you go back—”
“You think they’ll follow?”
“I’m not sure they’re here. You could have brought this with you.”
She dropped her forehead against his collarbone. “I have to go on with my life.” The life someone wanted to end. “What am I supposed to do? Hide?”
“You could try not wearing a bull’s-eye.”
She raised her face. “And what? Teach kindergarten?”
“I have fond memories of—”
She shoved his chest. “I have to believe God will—”
“Open your eyes.” He gripped her shoulders. “Do you think your uncle expected to lose his leg?”
“He expected to lose his life.”
“Gentry …”
She shook her head. “It’s not your problem.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m falling in love with you.”
“You told me.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
The warmth of his hands flowed down her arms. His claim was nothing new. Others had said so after one date. Hundreds shouted it without having met. But his face told her he hadn’t anticipated or intended it. His mouth told her he meant it.
She rested her hands on his chest. “Maybe there’s a way to bring it back with us.”
“Back is where everything else is.” The grim look had returned.
Everything else. Their different realities. “Who called you this morning?”
“Myra.”
“Your wife?”
“That never happened.”
She raised her brows.
He sighed. “I thought we made a promise and she broke it. But she never made it.”
Gentry frowned. What did that mean?
“Her psychiatrist said she was not able to commit. She’d spoken empty words. That what was supposed to happen never did.” He swallowed. “No covenant, no two becoming one.”
He rested his forearms on her shoulders. “Only no one told me. I thought it was real.”
She touched his lips. “It was to you.”
He kissed her fingertips. “This is real.”
Stranger things had happened. She raised her face. “Then it’ll find a way.”
Winding through the lush and loamy ferns, palms, and guavas, Nica breathed the scents that identified each variety as easily as their appearance. Okelani had taught her that recognition, but the plants revealed themselves to any who sought. Little puffs of red powder rose from her footsteps as the bouquet of her own yard beckoned.
She had hoped to find Kai and Gentry home. Instead, a big man sat in a heap against the sliding door as she emerged from the path. Unkempt and haggard, he glared as she approached. Not unusual. Many of those who came were strung out, belligerent, used to ridicule and rejection.
She walked up and stood above him. “Can I help you?”
He rose up like Behemoth, a great brown eruption. On the massive arm that hooked her neck, a dragon writhed. His hot breath scorched her, and her heart pumped a single word into her mind. Malice.
THIRTY
Cameron’s phone vibrated between them like a rude imp set on destroying every tender moment. Gentry’s lashes swept up, her rainforest eyes misty, her lips warm. If it was Myra calling, he’d know she had fixed him with a camera implant while he slept. He’d lacerate every inch of skin until he gouged it out.
But it wasn’t Myra on the ID. It was … Gentry. He sent her a sharp look, let her go, and answered. “Pierce.”
“Your sistah ma-ke, brah, less you hear me.”
His heart stopped. Every sinew in his body pulled taut. Nothing moved through his vocal cords, but he hadn’t been told to speak, only listen or Nica was dead.
“Got one beeg knife at her troat.”
He felt the blade on his own windpipe. “Talk.”
“You know who dis?”
“I have a guess. What do you want?”
“Off da island.”
He expelled a breath. “How am I supposed to—” Nica’s squeal sent liquid ice through his legs. A coppery whiff of blood cloyed his mind. “Stop!” His stomach clenched hard as a fist. He didn’t voice his doubt again. Instead his brain raced through the possibilities. “You want a boat?”
“No boat. One plane.”
“You’d never get through airport security. There’s an APB …”
“You get da cops, dis rabbit dead.”
Wherever they were, one slice of his blade … “A boat could take you—”
“Da boat make one trap. Want one plane. Get to da mainland.”
His thoughts spun. “You’d need a sizable jet.” Like Denny’s.
“Den get one.” Malakua had to be desperate to take a hostage. He must have burned all his bridges, and going commando into the jungle wasn’t his style. TJ had described a lazy thug, but he must know Gentry could tie him to attempted murder and assault.
“Let me think.” Even with Denny’s jet, they’d never slip Malakua through Lihue security. What other possibilities … Princeville? In an emergency, Denny could land a jet at the privately owned Princeville Heliport. No tower. No FAA. The APB would have covered all egress from the island, but he could get around that. Maybe. “I might be able to bring a jet into HPV.”
“Do it. Kanakanui’s wahine go wit me.”
“No.” Cameron clenched the phone.
Across the line Nica gasped.
Rage erupted. “Let her go. I’ll be your hostage.”
Malakua laughed. “You one lolo buggah.”
“Listen to me. She’s never left the island—”
“I’ll go.” Gentry grabbed the phone from his hand.
Startled, he struggled to get it back, but she spoke to Malakua.
“It’s me you wanted anyway, not Nica.”
No voice emerged from the cell
. Malakua must be balancing his options. Which would get him more? Cameron clenched his teeth. No way was he letting either of them—
“Kay den. Trade one sistah for one girlfriend. Get da buggah plane to da heliport. No cop. I see one cop, I cut dis wahine.”
Cameron said, “Wait,” as Gentry said, “Okay.”
The line went dead. He could dial it back, but Malakua wouldn’t listen. Neither would Gentry.
Her jaw was set. “It’s my fault. If I’d gone to the police, none of this would have blown up as it has.”
But he understood now why she hadn’t. “It’s not your fault, Gentry. I won’t let you—”
“It’s not up to you. You came here to keep Nica from getting hurt. That’s what we’re doing.”
Nica’s fear lodged in his chest. He remembered her in his arms, her small frame rolled up and rocking as he’d whispered uselessly, “ They’re coming back. I promise.” He hadn’t kept that promise. But he’d kept Nica, when she could have been swept away. Conventional wisdom said call the police. But he knew too well how a situation could go bad. And he’d depended on others before.
Gentry dropped her hand. “Do what he said, Kai.”
“Your uncle won’t—”
“Know? You can’t tell him.”
His heart pounded. “Gentry …”
“Malakua has no control at the destination without a hostage he can handle.” She swallowed. “I’m too well-known for him to do something stupid.”
“He tried to kill you.”
“For someone else in a supposed accident. He’d be stupid to try anything now. He wants to disappear.”
“This isn’t a movie.”
“But I can play it.” Determination fixed her gaze. She would do it. But he couldn’t let her. He’d call the—
Panic squeezed his throat. An image flashed through his mind so powerfully his heart lost its rhythm; Nica swept away, submerged in a crimson-hued tide. Never once had he experienced visions. Intuition, gut reaction, but nothing like this.
If the police surrounded them, cornered Malakua, how would the man react? There were no highly trained SWAT snipers, no official negotiators on Kauai. The time it would take to alert and transport such personnel would terrorize Nica. And if his vision was real, either collaterally or intentionally she would be lost. Instinct told him this was no fluke of terror in his mind. He’d been warned. His best hope was to end it as quickly as possible.
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