“There’s been a fire in Hawaii.”
“Bad?” Eugene asked.
“Yes. It’s all gone.”
“Is there anything to do?” Eugene asked.
“I’ve taken care of it. Everything should be wrapped up by morning.”
“Thank you, Senator.”
“I think we can rest easy,” Woodrow said.
He hung up, turned on his side, and smiled. It didn’t matter what call Ambrose made. Woodrow Calister was pleased that the man would be safe. He was pleased, because Ambrose was his friend. He must never forget that. There were so few to be had in Washington.
***
Malia had been at the helm of the No Problem, sailing it across the still turbulent sea under a bright sun. The storm from the night before had left the island sparkling and vibrant and Molokai never looked more beautiful. Sadly, Stephen couldn’t admire it. He was hanging over the side of the boat looking nearly as green as the island.
Aolani and Anuhea, sat in the deck chairs with their feet up, silently watching the horizon, lost in their own thoughts until the boat pulled up to the dock. When it did, Aolani jumped down and caught the rope that Anuhea threw. When the boat was secure, Malia put her arms around Stephen who fell into them.
“I wish that God would take me. Throw me overboard. To the sharks,” he moaned.
“We’re docked, Stephen. Five minutes and you’ll be okay. Breathe deep.”
Malia got him on his feet and Aolani helped him down. He crashed onto the dock. Anuhea hovered, Malia jumped down. If he fell backward it would take all three to get him up again, but he didn’t. The twins took his arms, one on each side while Malia went on ahead.
“There’s only the truck, Stephen.” She called this over her shoulder.
“I want the big car, Malia,” he grumbled and the girls looked at one another.
“Josie must have it, Stephen,” Anuhea said.
“Ah. All right then.” Stephen lumbered down the dock and climbed into the passenger seat of the blue truck. He put his head back but already the color was coming to his round cheeks. “One of you will have to drive the other one back when we find it. Are there an extra set of keys in the Harbor Master’s office?”
“I don’t think so, Stephen,” Aolani muttered.
“I think you’re right, my love. Perhaps someone will have found them. Josie’s purse. Perhaps, they’ll have found something.” His voice trailed away. He rolled down the window and looked out as Malia started the engine.
She drove toward Ha Kuna House while Stephen gulped air and tried to imagine that the wind was blowing raindrops off the trees onto his cheeks and not tears out of his eyes.
***
Stephen stood outside the fire department perimeter trying to engage anyone who passed his way. The men who did, though, had no interest in talking. That didn’t surprise Stephen. Not only was their task grim, they were not locals. These blokes wore white jumpsuits to sift through the ash and rubble of what had once been a beautiful house. Actually, though, they weren’t sifting at all – they were carting away everything including the ash that had been watered down and cooled to a paste.
In the distance, Stephen heard the thump of helicopter rotors. More than likely it was only a local tour taking in the spectacular view of the cliffs, but it gave him the chills to hear it as he was looking at such horrible scene on the ground.
Two large unmarked trucks were onsite, their loading bays open. One was already packed neatly with square boxes five across and three high. He estimated it could hold rows at least ten deep and that meant a whole lot of Ha Kuna House ash was packed inside. In the other truck large debris filled the space. It was all wrapped in plastic and labeled with yellow tags. Stephen was reminded of an airline crash where the bits and pieces of a plane were collected and later would be laid out and reconstructed to try and figure out what made the bloody thing fall out of the sky. He had the oddest feeling, though, that these pieces of Ha Kuna house would never again see the light of day. He wandered toward that truck to see if he might catch a glimpse of whatever was written on one of the tags when someone finally decided it was time to have a chat with him.
“Sir! Sir. Stop there.” A tall man strode toward him, his hand out.
“Hello, there,” Stephen called as the man stopped between Stephen and the truck.
“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked and the way he said it proved he was not a personable sort.
“A friend of mine. Josie Bates. She was staying here last night. She is a very tall lady, so perhaps you’ve found…well, perhaps you’ve found something of hers. Perhaps she was injured and already sent on to hospital,” Stephen suggested.
“If you haven’t heard from her you probably won’t. My condolences.” The man turned away, but Stephen wasn’t done.
“Wait, man! You can’t leave it at that. I would think there are other families needing information, too. Mr. Reynolds. Where is he? I’ll talk to him.”
“Mr. Reynolds was in his office last night. There were four residents and an aide. I’m afraid they are all deceased.” The man’s eyes never left Stephen’s and while Stephen would have been happy to contest such a bold thing, the man in white had no time for games. “I will have to ask you to leave the premises, sir.”
“Of course. Yes, I see that it would be for the best.”
Stephen stepped back and made as if he intended to go. Behind him, the man was satisfied and went back to his job. He didn’t notice that Stephen was walking slowly, considering that something was not right. Six people dead in the house was a tragedy, but…
Six…
Six…
Stephen stopped. The number was wrong. There had to be more than six people in that house if Josie had stayed the night. Josie, four residents, and one night aide. Certainly shouldn’t the man have said seven deceased if Reynolds was also gone?
Stephen swung toward the two cars in the drive. Both were covered with ash but untouched by the fire. Neither belonged to Keoloko Enterprises. The residents couldn’t drive. There was only one night aide. Perhaps this was Reynolds’ car and yet Stephen thought not. He motioned to Aolani. She came at his call, her tiny feet dragging, her beautiful young face sorrowful.
“Aolani, my sweet. You must do something.” He took her around the shoulders and turned her away from the white-suited trolls climbing over the ash and heaps of charred wood. He whispered: “Darling girl, do you think you might pop over to the red car without anyone seeing you and take a look at the registration?”
“I can try.”
“Go on with you. I’ll stand in front. No one will see past me now, will they?”
Despite the circumstances, Aolani giggled as she walked away. She was in and out of the car in seconds.
“It belongs to Kate Damon,” She said when she came back to him.
“That’s my little burglar. Did you manage an address?”
“On Ena Street.”
“You are a smart girl, Aolani. Where are the others?” Stephen craned his neck. It did not escape his notice that the man who had spoken to him earlier was watching them.
“They went to find flowers. Aloha for Josie and her makuahine. So sad to die young, but it’s good to die with her mother.”
“Ah, you have a heart of gold, Aolani. Go help them, will you? I’ll be back in a moment.”
Aolani went off and Stephen didn’t even take time to admire the sway of her hips under her long cotton dress. He walked the opposite way, on the path he and Josie had taken on their first visit, keeping his ears sharp and his eyes open just in case the blokes in white were snooping about that far afield.
He saw the cars before he even reached the turn out. One was the SUV Josie had taken the day before. He looked in the other and confirmed the pitiful excuse for a vehicle belonged to Amelia. Stephen looked at his phone. The little bars were nonexistent. He would like to talk to Molokai’s fire chief. He wanted to know who the men collecting ash and bones and
teeth at Ha Kuna House were. He wanted to know why the local fire patrol was not assisting. Mostly, Stephen wanted to know where Amelia and Josie had gotten themselves off to. More to the point: why hadn’t they shown themselves when the cavalry rode in?
Knowing he could not get the answers to these questions while he looked at the lovely, sad faces of his girls, Stephen bundled them on to the ferry and sent them home. They begged him to come with, but he pleaded a need to mourn privately – as well as to see if there were any Keoloko goods to be salvaged. When they were gone, he treated himself to a cocktail or two. Finally, judging that the men in white were gone, he went back to the Ha Kuna House property. Sure enough, the men were gone and they had left the place as clean as mum’s kitchen after Christmas dinner.
Stephen walked the perimeter as he punched a number into his phone, kicked with his sandals at the graded earth, and thought it odd that not even a piece of one of the hospital beds, a porcelain toilette, or the behemoth refrigerator he had known to be in the kitchen was left.
“Ah,” he said when the phone was answered. “Chief. Stephen Kyle here. Fine, thank you. But you have had quite a night. The fire–”
He was interrupted, listened, and then took it upon himself to interrupt back.
“Of course. Federal land. I didn’t realize the feds had fire marshals at the ready. Quite a team? Oh yes, I think so. Certainly professional. I saw them at work until I was sent on my way. Spic and span here.”
Stephen listened again and then laughed from the belly, talking as he walked toward the caretaker’s cottage.
“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t want me contaminating the scene either. I fear contaminating anything I touch, quite honestly. I imagine your men had already–”
Stephen did more pausing than talking. He had never known the fire chief to be so verbose. He listened as he tried the door to the cottage. It was open and empty. He walked toward Reynolds’ house as he kept up his side of the conversation.
“So you say? They needed no help. Happy days, the federal government finally accomplishes something. Good to know.”
They both had a laugh over that and then lamented the tragedy once more. The chief wished him aloha and Stephen wished him aloha back. The chief went back to his work and Stephen tried the doors of Reynolds’ place. It, too, was open so Stephen invited himself in. The house was pristine, as if the cleaning lady had just been in and done her level best. Stephen wandered through the place, opening closets and drawers willy-nilly. There was nothing there. Not even a book or a pencil, not a sweater or a towel. The men in white, he imagined, had taken it all. Poor Reynolds. Fifteen years in the place and someone wanted to make it seem that he never existed.
Tiring of finding nothing, Stephen went back outside and continued on his walk. He took the path that led to the cliffs, dialing Josie’s number as he went, getting only her voice mail. Molokai was fixing herself up after a rough roll in the hay with Mother Nature. The sun was out; the plants were lifting their flowers and leaves as the water evaporated. The ground was still muddy underfoot but not running with water. Something buzzed past Stephen’s ear and he swiped at it. His eyes scanned the jungle. He listened harder than he had ever listened in his life, but all was quiet.
Stephen trudged on, looking for all the things one sees in a movie or reads about in books: the bit of fabric hanging on a branch, footprints on the ground, a tangle of hair on a thorn, stones piled in the shape of an arrow. Stephen tired and he became cranky that he had not thought to at least have one more drink while he waited out the Ha Kuna cleaning crew. He raised his voice.
“Josie! Josie Bates! Show yourself!”
Stephen waited. His eyes narrowed as if that would help him see that which he was beginning to think did not exist. He put his hands on his hips and planted his feet and pushed out his chest. His magnificent stomach stretched his buttons to bursting; the tail of his lime green shirt fluttered in the breeze and, if there had been anyone to see, they would have been privy to a hint of pale paunch.
“Josie! I haven’t got all day. Chop, chop,” he boomed.
The seconds ticked by. Perhaps he must acknowledge that Josie and her mum had perished and accept the mystery of it.
“Josie! Jo–”
He tilted his head, cleared his throat and put his chubby fingers to his eyes. Surely, this was nothing more than a wayward cinder in his eye that was causing him grief and the last little whiff of smoke that had gotten into his throat and cut off his speech. Stephen took one deep breath and decided to call one more time in his best, biggest, English voice and then he would be done.
Before he could cry out yet again, the bushes shivered, the leaves rustled, and a branch broke. Covered in dirt, and mud, and ash, her short hair singed to nothing on one side of her head, Josie Bates shouldered her way through the forest and into the clearing. She stopped when she saw him, her body sagged, and the bag she was carrying dropped to the ground. Her eyes softened, her burned lips titled upward. Behind her, Amelia hovered with her arm around the ever beautiful, perpetually vacant Emily Bates, but Stephen only had eyes for Josie.
“By God, I have found me an Amazon,” he whispered before those errant cinders found their way to his eyes once more.
“He was waiting for information on Sandy MacIntosh. She was hurt in a truck accident.” – Josie
“Was he a relative?” – Oregon Community Hospital Nurse
“No. His name is Archer. A big man. Quiet.” – Josie
“I’m sorry. I’m just coming off the night shift. I’ll leave a message for the next shift. They might know. Can you call back?” – Oregon Community Hospital Nurse
“Who should I ask for?” – Josie
“I’m not sure who’s going to be on. Sorry. I’ve got to run. Call back after ten.” – Oregon Community Hospital Nurse.
“But is she awake? Is she talking? Look, who can I talk to…” – Josie to no one
CHAPTER 27
Josie sat on the sand with her back up against the low wall that separated Hermosa Beach’s Strand from the beach. The hood of her sweatshirt was pulled up and the strings tightened beneath her chin. The shirt didn’t match her sweatpants which were her oldest and warmest. Underneath she wore a long sleeved t-shirt but it was Max lying across her legs and gathered into her arms that kept her warmest of all.
She had been sitting this way for twenty-minutes, thinking of nothing and worrying about nothing. There could be no bigger shock than finding her mother, no bigger terror than facing a wall of flames and surviving. There could be no horror worse than what she had found in that cave. So she wouldn’t worry about anything, not even Archer and Hannah and Billy. She would trust that they would keep themselves safe and get home to her as soon as they could. But she couldn’t sit this way until they did. There was still so much to do.
“Come on, Max.”
She kissed the top of his head, stood up, dusted the sand off her butt, and took one more look at the large, low moon hanging over the Pacific. They went around the wall since Max’s jumping days were over. No one else was out except Mrs. Fenwick’s cat. The Horowitz children ran through their living room past the picture window and Josie heard Marjorie Horowitz’s muffled voice calling after them. Not much had really changed since she left a month earlier for Washington and yet everything had. She certainly had.
She was wary, wondering who was watching her even now that she was home. But there was no one lingering where they shouldn’t be, no car parked out of place, and nothing in her house that had been disturbed. She was thankful for that especially. The house was now a bit cramped but other than that it was perfect.
She paused and considered her place while she waited for Max to take a detour and sniff out something irresistible on the sidewalk. The outside lights illuminated the front step and the patio off her bedroom as they had been every night while she was gone. Tonight, though the bedrooms on either end of the house were lit while the bare picture window looking into the living room w
as dark. That’s the way Josie would keep it. Until this was over, she didn’t want anyone looking in on her from the outside.
When Max joined her, she opened the gate and it swung noiselessly on its hinges. At the front door she swiped the hood from her head, let Max go first, and hung up his pink leash on its hook. The homecoming had worn him out so he went to his bed while Josie followed the sounds of women’s voices. Faye brightened as Josie walked in.
“We were just going to send out a search party, weren’t we Amelia?”
“I was thinking of sleeping on the beach but Max wanted to come back.” Josie gave the older woman’s arm a squeeze.
“I can’t get used to you not having hair.”
“I have hair. It’s just shorter,” Josie objected.
“Shaved. Are you sure you don’t want a doctor to look at the burns.”
“They aren’t that bad,” Josie insisted. Amelia was tucking Emily into bed so Josie deflected Faye’s concern in her by asking: “How’s she doing?”
“Good. Really good.” Amelia stepped away and put her hands on her hips “It’s only been a couple of days without that medicine. I guess it’s too early to tell if there will be much change without it.”
“She’s lucky it didn’t kill her. Scopolamine in all four of those packets. With the doses those patients were getting it’s amazing they weren’t dead long ago.”
No one in the room could argue with that. The lab Stephen contracted with reported an alarming cocktail of drugs that Amelia had been giving the residents. An unintended consequence of their curiosity was that the lab wanted to know where the stuff had come from since the legality of the concoction was in question. Josie wasn’t ready to share that information yet.
Forgotten Witness Page 27