by Neal, Toby
“I’ll call Stevens and see where that’s at. Have a good rest of the day.” Marcella slammed the door. She was already on the phone again as she punched in the gate code.
Lei called Fury Furukawa as she drove home.
“Ginger. What’s up?”
“I’m calling to see what’s going on with Lisa Nakamoto’s case.”
“Checking on the boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Lei gritted her teeth. “I just got some information from his grandmother, Esther Ka`awai, that’s important to the missing persons case. I want to see what’s happening, make sure we can keep her happy.”
“A’right then.” He seemed to relent. “It seems Alika’s development company has been in financial trouble for a while. He’s cashed the insurance checks from the robberies but hasn’t replaced what’s missing, so fraud looks like a possibility. We interviewed him again with his lawyer present, but he’s sticking to his story that he knew Lisa in the biblical sense but didn’t kill her and is being framed. Hines is looking like the guy.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Guy’s gone into full withdrawals. A total tweaker. We’ve had to book him into the locked psych unit to keep him from killing himself. He’s been rambling that he shot Lisa because she was going to blow the whistle on his operation, but none of it’s admissible because he’s been declared incompetent or some shit by the psychiatrist at the unit.” Fury sounded disgusted. “We have to wait for him to get clean enough for a real interview.”
“So the murder charges against Alika are falling apart.”
“It’s looking like that, yeah. The medical examiner came up with a better estimate on time of death, and he’s got an alibi for that.”
“So is the prosecutor going to drop the charges?”
“Eventually. We’re letting him sweat a little, see if anything else breaks.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lei said with false enthusiasm.
Alika was innocent. She should have felt better, but somehow she didn’t. What if he’d set her up somehow?
“So, remember that tent and stuff he set up on the mesa? We had a pilot fly us up there to pack up the site and look for any more evidence, and we found some interesting trace.”
“What do you mean?”
“Evidence of a horse being used for transportation up there. Hoofprints, piles of green crap, you know. We looked around and found some footprints. Bigger than either yours or Alika’s. Looks like someone was spying on you guys. There was a broken branch and shoe prints right below the tent in the underbrush.”
“Shit,” Lei said, an involuntary shiver passing over her. She turned on the truck’s heater. “Anything else?”
“You know that crag at the end of the mesa? It’s the site of one of the most sacred heiaus on the island. Stevens is going back with techs and the FBI lab guys because it looks like there was human activity not long ago. A fire pit, recent smoke damage on the rocks. Efforts were made to clean it up, but I think someone’s been using that heiau. Could be our Cult Killer.”
“Who came up with that tag?” Lei asked.
“Don’t know, but someone’s leaked it to the press and it’s all over the place. Where you been?”
“Undercover.” Cult Killer—the moniker was horribly catchy. She remembered that lonely finger of stone rising into the sky on the mesa. She had to get up there and check it out. “When’re you guys doing that search?”
“We’re all supposed to be doing the cadaver search in Hanalei Valley tomorrow, but Stevens and I are trying to get it postponed until we can check this out. Problem is transportation. The captain is worried about the budget and wants the FBI to pay for the helicopters, so we’re waiting on their go-ahead.”
“If someone’s getting up there on horseback, it must be accessible on foot.”
“Like I said, the cap wants the Feds to take the lead. Call Agent Scott; she’ll know what the story is.”
“I just dropped her off. She didn’t say anything.”
“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t know anything.”
“Shit.”
“You been saying that a lot, Ginger. Take it easy. We’ll call you when something pops.”
“Thanks, Fury. Hang loose.” She closed the phone, dropping it on the seat beside her. Fury had decided to be civil, but now Marcella was holding out on her. The agent had taken her information and planned a trip to the mesa without her. The tiny bud of their friendship withered and died on the spot—a feeling like nausea. Following that, a wave of rage.
A junction in the road appeared and Lei whipped a U-turn and headed back to the safe house, turning on the siren and lights. The discordant wail of the siren put noise to what she was feeling. She pulled up and pounded on the door of the safe house. No answer. She called Marcella’s cell phone. It went to voice mail.
“Agent Scott, you used me,” she said to the empty void of recording. “You just wanted the map with the heiau sites. That was my lead, and I want in on it.”
There was still plenty of light, and she knew the source of the intel—Esther. She strode back out to the truck and roared back toward Wainiha. If there was a way on foot to that heiau, Esther would know it. She speed-dialed Jenkins as she roared down the narrow road, leaving a message on yet another voice mail.
“J-Boy—drop whatever you’re doing. I need backup. Come meet me at Esther’s in Wainiha.”
A faded blue Ford truck was parked in Esther’s driveway. She parked next to it and jumped out. The dogs backed away as she ran up the stairs to the deck and rapped on the glass slider. She peered in. No one visible. She slid it open, stuck her head in.
“Hello? Esther?”
No answer from the back of the house. She was probably down in her teaching room with whoever was visiting. She padded barefoot across the living room and down the stairs to Esther’s inner sanctum. She called again, “Esther?”
The tapa-covered door was closed. She knocked, called louder, “Esther!”
“Come in,” came the muffled reply.
Chapter 35
Lei pushed the door open. Esther was sitting cross-legged on her pillow with her ipu, and seated at her feet was Mac Williamson.
“Oh, hello Mac,” Lei said. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”
“Mac’s training. I told you he’s my haumana,” Esther said. “We were just doing a chant.”
Mac held up his ipu, a decorative gourd used for percussion. “Had to grow it, harvest it, dry it, and carve it,” he said, indicating the patterns on the surface of the hardened gourd.
“Nice,” Lei said. “Listen, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need that information you gave me and Marcella again. It’s important.”
Esther set her instrument aside. “What’s happened?”
“I can’t tell you except that Marcella took the information. She’s gone, and I want to check something out at one of the sites.”
“Which one?” Mac asked, penetrating brown eyes intent.
“The spire above the mesa.”
“I know that site well. There’s a trail to it from the back of my land.”
“Really? How do you know it?”
“My training.” He gestured to Esther, who inclined her head.
“Can you show it to me?” A hasty plan was forming in Lei’s mind. Maybe she could join the investigation from below by scouting out the access to the mesa.
“Of course.” He uncoiled himself from the floor, and she was struck by the height and power of his frame. She backed up into the doorway.
“Let me make a quick call; then we’ll go. Thanks, Esther, and I’m sorry for barging in.” She backed away and hotfooted it up the stairs and across the house. She’d left her weapon and cell phone in the glove box of the truck.
She’d gotten sloppy.
She jumped into the cab and locked the doors. No one appeared on the deck.
What if Mac was the guy? He seemed big and strong enough. He lived alone, with access to the heiau
and training in ancient Hawaiian rituals. Still, he just didn’t feel threatening to her—she’d always felt safe with him.
Her head was saying one thing, her gut another. She took her cell out and dialed Stevens. She left a message.
“Going to the heiau on the mesa with Mac Williamson. He says the trail to the mesa starts on his land. Going to check it out. And I want to talk to you about . . .”
I love you. I’m sorry I ever looked at anyone else.
The adrenaline of the moment seemed to bring the realization into crystal-clear focus. She’d tried so hard to deny what was right in front of her.
“Stupid melodrama,” she said aloud. At least he would know where she’d gone if something happened.
A tap at her window. She looked up and saw Mac, his carved wooden staff in his hand.
“One minute,” she said through the closed window. He got into the blue truck, waiting. She pulled her shoulder holster out of the glove box and shrugged into it, putting the man’s shirt back on over it. For once she missed the heaviness of her duty belt, with every possible weapon.
Her cell rang.
“J-boy.” Finally a live voice! “Where is everybody? No one’s picking up their phones.”
“The Feds took two helicopters up to the mesa to check out the heiau site up there. I think Stevens and Fury got to go, and there’s no phone reception. I’m on my way to meet you.” She could hear the scream of the siren in the Subaru. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going up to the mesa from a trail below. Can you join me at Mac Williamson’s house? He says there’s a trail to the mesa from the back of his estate. I want to take a hike from below and meet them up there.”
“Why? Can’t stand to have something go down without you?”
“Exactly. Apparently there’s a horse trail from below. Maybe there’s something there the team will want to see.”
“Sweets, I’ll be there—with bells on.” He gave an extra blast of his horn for emphasis. “See you in a few.”
Thank God for Jenkins’s loyalty and enthusiasm. Lei closed the phone and turned it to vibrate, stuffing it into her overburdened pocket. She rolled her window down.
“I’ll follow you,” she called to Mac.
He nodded and fired up the Ford.
* * *
The Timekeeper had donned the tapa malo loincloth and set kukui nut oil torches in the four corners of the central area of the cave. The Chosen hunched in his sleeping bag.
“You’re going to kill me.” His voice was raspy, and the isolation, fear, and darkness had done their work, because there was also a note of hopelessness in it. The Timekeeper lifted his gnarled, carved kiawe staff and approached the Chosen.
He swung the club at the man’s head, and that’s when Jay Bennett surged up out of the sleeping bag, dodging out of the way. The Timekeeper swung again, and this time Jay caught the staff in both hands. Using his forward momentum, the Timekeeper used Jay’s leverage, pushing against the staff as he did a sweeping kick, and knocked the man’s legs out from under him.
Jay went down hard, his naked body smacking against the stone floor and head snapping back against the rock.
He didn’t get up.
The Timekeeper laid out the unconscious body on a plastic tarp, spreading the arms and legs wide according to the rules the ancient Voices had passed down to him. He tenderly removed the collar and washed the Chosen in kukui nut oil, wiping away the excess with a tapa cloth square.
The man who had once been Jay Bennett gleamed in the flickering light, a golden statue, perfect and unblemished. Tumbled yellow hair framed a face like a fallen Nordic god, and in his beauty he seemed eternal to the Timekeeper, the plastic beneath him glimmering like water.
He began to chant, sharpening the knives on the whetstone: a cleaver, scalpel-thin fillet knife, and a handheld meat saw. The rasp of the whetstone punctuated the rhythms of the timeless song.
Chapter 36
Lei was impressed by the beauty and size of the estate as she followed the Ford up a long winding driveway. The spread was nestled between two rain-sculpted mountains with the mesa in the background, a further range of jungled peaks beyond. Blooming oleander hedges bordered a rolling lawn with the gracious main house set like a wedding cake in the center.
“Lotta mowing,” she said as she got out of her truck in the gravel turnaround. She was glad she’d put her athletic shoes on that morning.
“Cal does it,” Mac said, taking a water bottle out of his truck. “I couldn’t keep up a place this size without him. ’Course, I do a lot too. Keeps me in shape.”
“I’d love to get the tour sometime, but I’m eager to make it up to the mesa and back before dark.”
“Not a problem, though I’m not sure what you’re in such a hurry for.”
A partial truth was in order.
“Remember Alika? He took me up there on a date, and that’s where I found some evidence linking him to a murder. I want to get back up there, see if there’s anything else.”
“I heard Alika was arrested. Shooting some girl seems out of character.”
“I think so too. I’d like to clear his name,” Lei improvised.
“He’s my brother, you know.”
“What?” Lei took a bottle of water out of the truck. She locked it, turning to face Mac, eyes wide. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Half brother, I should say. We have the same father.”
“So your dad was the guy who wouldn’t do right by Alika’s mom,” Lei said. She patted her cargo pockets to make sure she had her phone, keys, and, of course, the Glock. The shoulder rig already rubbed her bare side.
The band of tension across her chest loosened as Jenkins’s Subaru tore up the driveway, light spinning.
“He was already married, thank you very much.” Mac seemed indifferent to the approaching vehicle, intent on his story. “When Lehua showed up here pregnant, you can imagine my mother wasn’t very happy. She was pregnant with me at the time.”
“So did you spend time together growing up?”
“Little as possible. Doesn’t mean I want to see him charged with murder.”
“I wonder why Alika never told me you were related.”
“He has a chip on his shoulder. Even though he’s done well for himself, he didn’t get all this.” Mac gestured to encompass the sweep of the estate.
Jenkins trotted up. He was in chinos and a polo shirt, sweat already marking rings under his arms. “Where’s the trailhead? Damn, they’re going to be surprised to see us come up from below.”
“Mac, this is my partner Jack Jenkins. I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you I’m a cop. I’ve been working undercover.” Lei took her badge out of her pocket and showed it to him.
“I guessed. When you were with that other woman at the papaya farm.” He seemed unfazed by her revelation. “Is this hike part of your investigation?”
“Maybe. I think we should be looking for anywhere that . . .” Lei paused awkwardly. The urgency she’d felt all day, with it being October 31—Samhain—seemed to thrum along her nerves. “Let’s go.”
They set off across the rolling lawn at a fast clip and passed the last oleander hedge, planted in an overlap so the gap was hidden. A barn and corral were on her left, and she smelled the warm scent of horses.
“We could ride, but I don’t think you’re dressed for it. You ride?” Mac asked.
“No, and today’s not good for my first lesson,” Lei said, remembering Fury’d said there was a horse on the mesa. She looked at Mac’s feet—they weren’t small. Her gut clenched as she wondered what his shoe size was. She dropped behind him a few more feet and signaled Jenkins to keep an eye on Mac. They both loosened their weapons for easy access.
They hurried past the barn to where the trail began in earnest, and soon their conversation was limited to huffing and puffing as it ascended steeply, winding around boulders and trees, switching back every now and again as if to spare them the grade for a
few minutes.
Lei’s gun rubbed and straps chafed. She finally took the rig off and put it back on outside the shirt, buckling it as they walked.
“Don’t know why you need to bring that thing.” Mac stopped, leaning against a kukui tree and wiping his forehead with his forearm. “Nothing out here but a few wild pigs.”
“Detectives always carry a sidearm,” Lei said, snugging up the strap but keeping the snap off the holster. “Nothing personal.”
Mac’s shoulders relaxed a little as he turned back to the trail. Jenkins raised his brows.
Lei felt the pump of adrenaline waning. It was hard to stay keyed up with afternoon sun beating on her head and birds singing. Mac still carried the carved hardwood staff, using it as a walking stick.
“Nice staff,” she said at a level spot in the trail. “What are the carvings?”
“They’re petroglyphs. It’s actually a narrative of my life. I’ll explain it to you sometime.”
“I’d like that,” she said. The niggling doubt came back—could Mac be the guy? The victims had been hit on the head with something, and it could well have been a wooden staff.
They reached a stream that bisected the path, and Mac jumped from rock to rock, crossing to the other side. Lei looked up the stream to the series of waterfalls that flowed into it. One of the cliffs was bisected by a dark cleft. She remembered Esther’s psychic moment a few weeks ago.
“Are there any big caves around here?”
“I don’t know about big. Farther up we cross again, and not far from there is one big enough to sleep in.”
“I’d like to check it out,” Lei said, digging her nails into the pad of her thumb to keep her excitement under control. She picked her way across the stream, Jenkins splashing and cursing behind her.
“Guess we can take a side trip there if you want, but I thought you were in a hurry to get to the mesa.”
“No, I’d like to check out the cave,” Lei said. “Seems like we have plenty of light for both.” Behind Mac’s back, Jenkins nodded eagerly.
Mac set off again, and another half mile or so higher, the trail crossed the stream again. A faint path, little more than a goat trail, forked and followed the water upstream, almost obscured by ferns.