Storm fumbled a huge bite of syrup-soaked taro pancakes into her mouth. “That sounds great.” Later, she’d tell Uncle Keone what a genius he was. She didn’t dare look at Aunt Maile, who was grinning down at her own scrambled eggs.
A half hour later, the four of them ambled up the hill to the stables, where they found five horses tied to a rail, spaced evenly so that Makani could move easily among them. At the moment, he was bent over the rear hoof of a big buckskin gelding. The horse blinked sleepily in the sun. His ears perked up at the approaching foursome, but he didn’t put his hoof down.
Makani looked up. “Hi. You’re early.” He picked up the buckskin’s other hind leg and cleaned the hoof. “Or I’m late. Thought I’d have these guys saddled up before you got here.”
“We’ll help,” Keone said. “Hamlin, you can curry, especially on their backs where we’ll put the saddle blankets. Storm, why don’t you get the blankets and match saddles to the horses? Maile and I’ll get the bridles.”
A half hour later, Makani had them mounted and in single file, with Hamlin behind Makani’s bay mare. Aunt Maile was next, then Storm, with Uncle Keone bringing up the rear. For a half hour or so, the trail, often wide enough for two horses to walk abreast, crossed red-dirt pasturelands. Makani dropped back to ride next to Hamlin. Storm couldn’t hear all their words, but she could see Makani gesture to Hamlin’s hands and demonstrate how to hold the reins against the horse’s neck, or use the calves of his legs and his body weight to urge the animal before resorting to his heels.
Storm smiled up at the sun warming her face. When they got higher into more forested land, she relaxed and let the leaves’ shadows dapple her eyelids. This was bliss. Hamlin was learning an activity she loved, from a man who was a lot less threatening than if Storm had tried to teach him herself.
This was something to think about. What was it that had come up between them? Was she just feeling insecure? Or was it Hamlin? It seemed she rarely could take a teaching role in their relationship. Did she need more recognition than he was willing or able to give her? He was three years older, and like many men, he was a doer, a guy who felt most effective when he was active: fixing a convoluted legal problem, teaching law students, charming potential clients. His instincts were to lead, especially where she was concerned. And though she trusted that his intentions were good, their opinions often differed.
Sometimes she worried he felt underappreciated, even threatened, by her independence. She didn’t know what to do about that in the long run, but right now was not the time to get bogged down with questions that had no answers. She could just be happy Makani was teaching him to ride.
Makani pointed to Hamlin’s feet, then exaggerated his own heel position. He slid one hand up the reins, shortening them. Storm perked up. Sure enough, both Makani’s and Hamlin’s horses picked up their pace. Because horses are herd animals, the rest of the mounts followed and trotted up a long, gentle rise. When they slowed, Makani took his position in front and the troupe began to pick its way up steep, rocky cutbacks.
The ascent went on for nearly an hour, through low, foggy cloudbanks that dampened them, though the horses lathered into a sweat from the effort of the climb. The riders perspired, too, as they leaned forward in their saddles to help the horses’ efforts. When Makani’s and Hamlin’s horses broke out of the forest, Storm saw Hamlin’s head snap up. She caught his profile momentarily as he pushed his hat back and grinned.
In a moment, all five horses broke through the fog to the top of the hill, where the riders took in a vastness of sapphire deepening to indigo, where the earth curved into a haze that obscured the boundary between sea and sky. It was as if the heavens had come down to enfold them, and for long minutes, no one spoke.
Finally, one of the horses stamped a hoof. Makani hopped off his mare. “Whaddya think of this for a picnic spot?”
“Couldn’t do any better,” Keone said.
The others slid off their mounts. Hamlin flexed his legs a bit, and Storm reminded herself to check and make sure they had some ibuprofen on hand for tomorrow. She would use it, too; it had been a while since she’d exercised these muscles.
Makani had tied saddle bags onto his and Uncle Keone’s horses and the two men unloaded the bags onto a level area. Makani hobbled the horses and set them to graze, then spread out a large, checked tablecloth. Keone unwrapped a couple of insulated packages that made clinking noises. One had five bottles of pale ale, the other an assortment of bottled waters and sodas. There was a box of cut and whole fruits, a loaf of sourdough bread, sliced avocados, condiments, and a variety of meats and cheeses. Memories of the big breakfast five hours before had faded with the foggy mists of the morning.
It was bright and sunny on their outlook, and though the breeze was cooling, heat rose from the earth. Along with the satisfying meal, the balmy air made the riders and their mounts sleepy. After lunch, the men covered their faces with their hats and rolled jackets under their heads. Soon, soft snores carried over the soughing of the wind.
Aunt Maile and Storm cleaned up the remnants of the picnic and Storm took apple cores to the horses, while Aunt Maile wandered to the edge of the forest to look for popolo, whose berries had antibiotic properties. Her horse, she claimed, had a cut on its shoulder, but Storm thought she might be wandering off to find a private bush. And that was fine with Storm, who thought she might look for one in the other direction.
When Storm got back from her walk, Makani and Keone had put the bridles back on the horses and retightened their girths. The haze that blurred the horizon a little over an hour ago was much closer. In fact, cloud banks shot with oblique streaks of sun and rain loomed so close they could smell the water in the air.
“We might get a little wet. Does everyone have a jacket?” Makani got on his horse. “Let’s head back through the forest. There’s a bit more shelter.”
The horses knew they were heading back to the ranch, too, and with the wind at their backs, lengthened their strides along the path. Though the leaves rustled around them, the ride was cool and the horses moved in a comfortable rhythm. Storm could see Hamlin sat as relaxed as everyone one else on the ride, and she grinned. She didn’t get away with it unnoticed, though, as Keone chuckled behind her.
“You’re as transparent as a window pane, you know?”
“Shoots, Uncle Keone, I can’t ever fool you.”
But both of them were fooled. Stunned, in fact. The horses were in single file, Makani and Hamlin were carrying on a conversation, and Makani was turned in his saddle to talk to Hamlin. No one in the line knew if it was Makani’s bay or Hamlin’s buckskin who first snorted its warning. But Makani’s horse reared and pivoted first, which led Hamlin’s to do the same. The stench of death reached them a split second later.
Chapter Ten
Skelly Richards pulled into the driveway at Hawai‘i EcoTours around eight a.m. He’d stopped for breakfast at an old friend’s house on the drive back from Halawa Bay, and despite the coffee he’d taken for the road, was feeling the lack of sleep. The friend had called a few days ago to tell Skelly that he’d heard Connor at the gym, talking about some people from O‘ahu who were looking for the younger Liu brother. He thought Skelly would be interested. That alone made Skelly uncomfortable, plus any discussion about the Lius was bad news. It was a long-known fact.
After last night’s haircut, he and Tanner had reminisced about old friends and had a few beers. Actually, Tanner only had one. If he even finished it. Skelly didn’t want to count the bottles he’d emptied—the throb behind his eyes told him too many.
The evening had been a pleasant buzz of friendship, except when Skelly mentioned the old gang. He’d also referred to the Liu kid, now he thought about it. But Tanner had just looked at him with a blank stare. After an uncomfortable moment, Tanner asked why he was thinking about them. The whole thing had been a bit weird, as if Tanner had forgotten he was part of the gang.
Granted, the beer had made Skelly talkative
, but he thought it was okay to put out feelers with someone he trusted. He just wanted to know if Tanner had heard the same gossip the other guy phoned about. He guessed not, but he wasn’t sure. That look had been odd. Could be that medicine Tanner was taking, though. It certainly made him sleep like the dead. He’d been tough to wake up.
They’d spent the remainder of the night in the office on a pullout couch and chair cushions arranged on the floor. Skelly figured it was better than driving home, waking Helene and Amy on their entry, and again when they got up two hours before dawn.
It had been pitch dark, chilly, and raining when they loaded Skelly’s faded red pickup with supplies and pulled onto the highway to Halawa Bay. At least they’d had time to brew a pot of coffee from the grounds Tanner had found. No milk or sugar, though.
“Probably from your last visit,” Skelly said, sniffing at the bag of coffee, which was one of two things in the freezer. The other was a carton of freezer-burned ice cream. Chocolate chip cookie dough. He tossed that one into the rubbish can without sniffing.
“Means they’re about six weeks old.”
“At least.”
They hadn’t said much on the hour drive to the drop-off point where the road ended. They were both trying to wake up.
That was three hours ago, and the big stack of pancakes Skelly had eaten was making him so drowsy he could hardly keep his eyes open. Seeing Dave Niwa’s police car in the drive roused him, though.
He braked to a halt and climbed stiffly from the truck. “What’s up?” Two hours on the road and less than four hours of sleep hadn’t left him in the mood to beat around the bush.
“Where’ve you been?” No joking around. In fact Skelly wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Dave so serious. And he’d known him for ages.
“Uh, what’s wrong?”
“Skelly, I mean it. Where’ve you been?”
“I took Tanner to Halawa to set up camp. We’ve got a group coming in tomorrow. What’s going on?”
“You were with Tanner?”
“Yeah, since about six last night.”
“That’s when I dropped him.” Niwa’s sternness ebbed a bit. “He spent the night with you and Helene?”
“No, we stayed here. Had to get up too early.” Skelly shut the truck’s door. “What’s up?”
Niwa scuffed a size thirteen in the gravel walkway. “Jenny Williams died last night.”
“Oh shit.” Skelly fell back against the truck as if someone had pushed him. “Shit,” he repeated, much softer.
“Yeah.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He found her.”
“Oh no, man.”
“Yeah. He called 911 for an ambulance this morning. They called me.” Niwa’s voice had a hitch in it. “I took him to my house.”
“He’s friends with your daughter, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. You got any way to get hold of Tanner?”
Skelly pulled out a two-way radio. “Doubt if he’ll have his on yet. Doesn’t have a cell phone, either.” He turned it on and keyed the transmission switch. “Tanner? Tanner, you there? Over.”
The radio crackled, but no one responded.
“We get decent reception in the storage cabin, but once you start around the point, it’s iffy. On the water, it’s hit and miss.”
“Any idea when he’ll come back?”
“Dunno for sure. I’d say mid-afternoon.” Skelly frowned into the climbing sun. “He’ll need a few hours to set up. Say, until ten or eleven. Then it’ll depend if he goes to his cabin, or turns around and comes back to town.”
“Where’s his cabin?”
“Somewhere near the north shore, back in Halawa Valley. He has a little research lab there.”
“A lab?” It was Niwa’s turn to frown.
“Yeah, he’s working on seaweed extracts. Scientific stuff.” Skelly sounded proud.
“Really?” This was news to Niwa. He didn’t know Tanner had been doing anything but helping Skelly out.
“Yeah, he might have a job again. I mean, other than a tour guide.”
“So he goes there when he’s not working for you?”
“Mostly.” Skelly shrugged. “I don’t keep track of him.”
“Did he say anything about Luke’s game?”
“Yeah, he plans on being there.”
“Was he going to contact you to pick him up in Halawa?”
Skelly shook his head. “Can’t. I’ve gotta meet the tour group at the airport this afternoon, take them to the Lodge for the night, then stop in Kaunakakai for supplies.”
“How’s he planning to get back?”
Skelly mimed thumbing a ride. “You gonna look for him, tell him about Jenny?” Skelly sounded glad he didn’t have to.
“I guess so.” Niwa turned to go, but Skelly had another question.
“What happened to her?” Skelly’s arms hung limply at his sides, the radio dangling from one wrist.
“Don’t know yet.”
“I mean, she have an accident or something? She’s about our age, isn’t she? Jesus.” He whispered the last word.
“She hit her head. That’s all we know right now.” Niwa walked slowly to his car and got in. “She’s younger than we are. Thirty-one.”
“Wait.” Skelly moved toward the car. “You gotta get Luke to that game, okay? The kid’s gonna need it. So is Tanner.”
Niwa nodded and waved as he pulled slowly away. Skelly keyed the transmit button again. “Tanner, you there? Come in, over.” Static was the only reply.
He opened the office door and made his way to the phone on the desk. As he stabbed the numbers, he was glad Dave Niwa wasn’t around to see the tremor in his fingers. He hit the eight button twice by accident and had to try again.
“Hey Connor, I need you at the office.” His voice shook a bit, though he cut off his brother mid-sentence. “Don’t give me that shit. Ten minutes ago, that’s when.”
Skelly was staring out the window over his desk when Connor tramped through the open door.
“What the fuck?” Connor’s words sounded slurred.
Skelly stood up and braced the back of his legs against the desk. “Where’ve you been?”
“Delia’s.”
“You mean she hasn’t kicked you out yet?”
“Fuck you. Like you don’t have any problems.”
“Okay, okay.” Skelly took a deep breath. “Was she there?”
“Delia? Yeah, sure.”
“The whole time?”
“Well, she had to work ‘til eleven last night.”
“So you were alone until then?”
Connor paused. “I went to Joey’s Gym until about nine. Did some stuff there.”
“Anyone else around?”
“Mike Ka‘ana and Jeff Gibson were there for a while.”
“You go calling on any old girlfriends?”
“No. What’s—” Connor’s tone was indignant.
Skelly dropped into the chair. “Jenny Williams is dead.”
Connor’s mouth dropped, though he did that to breathe. He made a snorting noise. “Hey, maybe there is a God.”
“Give me a fucking break.”
“She’s a bitch and you know it. It’s not like she doesn’t yank your chain, too.”
“Connor, I want you to shut the fuck up. Now.”
Connor’s jaw flapped like a Moray eel’s before he caught the glint in his brother’s eyes and his teeth clicked closed.
Chapter Eleven
It was all Storm could do to hold onto her own mount. Makani’s and Hamlin’s horses bolted straight for them, while Aunt Maile’s horse, reined in firmly, rolled its eyes and hopped backward to avoid the oncoming animals. The last she saw, Aunt Maile and her mount had leaped off the trail into the woods and Storm didn’t have time to wonder if Maile had allowed it or not. She was too busy keeping her horse from hurtling itself into the nearby rocks and brambles.
And the odor. The wind, which had been behind them, had twisted through the trees and returned bearing an awful message. As if Makani and Hamlin had broken through a bubble of putrefaction and let it escape like Pandora’s horrors into the unwary world.
None of the horses could be stilled until they’d put some distance between the stench and their restless hooves. It wasn’t until they’d all retreated about a hundred yards that Storm saw the riderless mount. It was Hamlin’s buckskin, white-eyed and side-kicking.
“Oh, God. Where’s Hamlin?” Storm jumped from her horse. Makani was right behind her.
He reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Wait, I’ll go. Stay here.” With the other hand, he grabbed at the buckskin’s trailing reins.
Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone were off their horses by then, and Makani handed the buckskin’s reins to Keone.
“I’m going with you,” Storm said to him. “Hamlin’s back there, maybe hurt, by that dead thing.”
“No, stay here.” His eyes flicked back and forth on the path, not meeting the other riders’ anxious stares. “It’s probably a steer. Winter rains wash out the ranch fences.”
Makani tied a handkerchief over his face and walked toward the smell. “I’ll call if I need help.”
Storm followed him anyway and held her sleeved arm against her nose. They hadn’t gone ten feet when Hamlin appeared, pale and grimacing with pain. One arm hung at his side and he held it steady with his other hand, as if each step he took hurt.
Storm dashed past Makani, but Hamlin stopped before she reached him. “My shoulder’s dislocated.” His voice was a whisper. “It’s happened before.”
“Let me help you,” Storm said, and reached for his good side.
Hamlin turned toward Makani. “Let’s get away from the smell.”
Makani let Hamlin lean against him and they walked toward the now-tethered horses and Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone. “Did you see whatever scared the horses?”
Hamlin spoke through gritted teeth. “Didn’t try to. I knew what I’d done,” he gestured to his shoulder, “and I wanted to get away.”
He directed his words to Makani. Storm followed behind.
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