The two detectives from tactical were there, dressed in horrible Bermuda shorts, and they waved to him. The men walked out without a word and went to a Suburban parked far out in the parking lot, almost to the edge of the property. They climbed in back and Stanton followed.
He lifted his shirt as they shaved a patch of his chest hair and then taped the mike. The two detectives didn’t speak other than one of them saying, “Don’t cross your arms. It muffles it.”
Once he was miked, they tested it several times and Stanton was let out of the Suburban. They shut the doors and left him standing there. He glanced around the parking lot but didn’t see anyone else, so he went inside the resort. He sat on a couch against the wall and took out his phone. He checked Facebook and Twitter, and then put his phone away and leaned against the wall. The only thought that kept crossing his mind was, what am I doing here?
For a good twenty minutes, Stanton watched people coming and going out of the resort. Everyone was finely dressed, or at least thought they were, and flashed gold and diamonds at every turn. He thought of Babylon before the fall, where everyone lived through the eyes of other people. Got their value from the esteem of other individuals.
Stanton had never thought much about Armageddon, other than scriptural and historical curiosity. But he wondered now whether it was possible that civilization could ever just be wiped away. If it ever was, it would have to rot first from within so badly, that the people couldn’t put up much of a fight. He didn’t know whether that was what was happening now or not.
Stanton’s phone rang; it was Suzanne.
“I was going to call you,” he said. “I didn’t like that last conversation.”
“It was my fault, Jon. I feel really embarrassed about it now. I just rushed things too quickly. I think I’m always doing that. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the jerk.”
“Well, you can always make it up to me. A pizza from Belly’s ought to do it. As friends, of course.”
“You got it.”
“Hey, so I saw you weren’t home. I thought I’d run over and check on the boys.”
“I would really appreciate that.” A long, awkward silence. Stanton knew it was from his end. He was supposed to say something right now but couldn’t think of what it was.
“Well,” she finally said, “I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Thanks again, Suzanne.”
“You’re welcome.”
Stanton hung up and felt the tug of guilt in his stomach. Suzanne was a good woman, and he didn’t like the way he was treating her. But he didn’t know what else to do. How to act. It was difficult to know what to say to someone that had put themselves out there, told you they were attracted to you and cared about you, and you rejected them. It made him feel guilty every time he thought about her.
A woman walked through the entrance. She strode over and Stanton found he couldn’t say anything.
It was Heidi in every respect. Perhaps a little more wear and tear, and the hair was shorter and black. She wore glasses now, and a strand of her hair came down over her face. She smiled at him.
“I’m Heather.”
Stanton noted that she didn’t use Heidi’s name. He rose. “Jon.”
She placed her arm in the crook of his elbow, and they walked to a table.
41
Stanton asked for water and a Diet Coke. Then he wondered whether he should have ordered a beer but not drunk it. Just moved it aside. Then he wondered if Diet Coke would look weird and whether he should change his order.
He was flustered. Though his reason told him it wasn’t Heidi, his eyes only saw her. All those feelings came to him. Everything he wanted to express and share with her. And he had to push them down deep inside himself and keep them hidden.
“You’re pretty tan,” she said. “You been out here long?”
Stanton hadn’t thought of his tan. He wanted to seem like a tourist and wished he’d thought to stay out of the sun for a while. “I live here,” he finally said, opting for the truth. For some reason, he was worried that she would be able to see through him.
“Really? It’s a small island and I haven’t seen you before. Do you go out much? Make the rounds of the bars?”
“No, I’m more of a stay-at-home guy.”
She reached out and touched his hand. The touch made him feel warm inside, and he had to push that away as well. “Well, I can think of plenty of fun things to do at home.”
Stanton held her hand, as he figured a john would. He wanted to respond like a lonely man who’d just found the attentions of a beautiful woman. So he smiled and caressed her hand.
“I’d like to know more about you,” he said.
“I’m here for you. That’s all you need to know. I’m yours to do with as you please tonight. To fulfill all your fantasies.”
Stanton was quiet a moment, staring into her eyes. “I’d like to show you a good time first. Then whatever happens, happens.”
She smiled. “I think I like you, Jon. Okay, what would you like to know about me?”
“How long have you been on the island?”
“Just over two years. You?”
“A little more than a year.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It’s paradise. I didn’t think it would be, but it is.”
“Why wouldn’t you think it would be?”
He took his napkin and laid it on his lap. “You hear things about the locals. That they don’t like people from the mainland and that there’s a lot of violence against them. I haven’t found that to be accurate.”
Placing the back of her hand against her chin, she appeared like she was absorbed in the conversation. Soaking up every word. Stanton knew it was a practiced habit to feign interest. To be the type of date that was there only for him. In her eyes, he could see boredom.
She said, “You have to view it from the perspective of the natives. This is their island. We’ve imposed our government, our laws, our customs. Theirs are dying out. Within a few generations, their culture will be a relic that they bring out at carnivals to impress the tourists. They’re just hanging on for as long as they can.”
“I’ve always been interested in that. What it would be like to live in a declining culture.” He took a sip of water. His mouth was dry. “I think of Rome in the fifth century AD. Everyone must have known the collapse was coming. That their society couldn’t hold anymore and they were ripe to be conquered. I wonder what they felt.”
“It must’ve felt like the end of the world.” She paused. “You’re into that, aren’t you? Thinking about the darker things?”
The boredom in her eyes had turned to genuine interest. Stanton had to keep this thread going. “Darkness has always fascinated me. It’s a strength when nothing else is.”
She was silent a moment. “I think of the Inquisition. What it must’ve felt like to know you could be taken in and tortured to death at any moment. You’re a wealthy landowner one minute, and the next you’re hanging naked from a ceiling and being whipped to death. That uncertainty must’ve been maddening.”
“Life’s uncertain now. We could die any minute from a car accident, a bullet… even just fall and hit our heads.”
“I think that’s what makes life so enjoyable, though.” She ran her nails along his fingers. “That at any moment, we could be snuffed out and it’ll all be over. If there were gods, I think they would be jealous of us. You can only see the beauty in things when you know it’s temporary. Like the full moon.”
“What about it?”
“So you have maybe fifty full moons left in your life to see. Give or take. But it feels infinite. Like you can see it however many times you want.”
Stanton watched her black nails run along his hand. He’d met a few people with IQ’s comparable to hers, and they didn’t speak like she did. They were either erudite to the point of annoyance or they were incoherent. She spoke like an average person, and he wond
ered if that was part of the game as well.
“You have a lot of pain,” she said. “I can see it in you. You carry it with you.” She took his hand and laid it flat with the palm up. Her fingertips lightly caressed the lines up and down. “There’s four major lines on the hand. This line here, running down, that’s your fate line. The most important line. Not everybody has one. Most people are just thrown into the storm and are flung around without purpose.”
“But I have a purpose?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. But your fate line runs deep. It means you are controlled by your fate, with little choice in it.”
Stanton watched her fingers in silence as she gently massaged his hand. Every touch was practiced to perfection to get the correct result. To arouse, relax, or titillate. “What about your fate line?”
Her face contorted slightly. He’d hit a sensitive subject. “I’m like you. At the mercy of a fate that was decided without my input.”
“And there’s nothing you can do to change it?”
She shook her head. “I’ve tried. Like I’m sure you have. But in the end, we can’t fight against fate. Even the fight is part of its plan for us.”
Stanton felt himself growing aroused at her touch. He withdrew his hand and pretended he needed another drink of water. The waiter came to take their order, and she ordered roast duck. Stanton hadn’t even looked at the menu so he just asked for their best salad, the walnut and cranberry chicken.
“So no matter what fate has in store for us, you just give in?” he asked.
“I didn’t use to. I fought like hell for a long time. But now I see there’s no point. It just follows you.”
“You know, you didn’t really answer my question. About what your fate really is.”
She grinned. “A lady can’t divulge all her secrets on the first date, now can she?”
Stanton felt the butterflies in his stomach as he formulated the next question. He rolled it over and over in his mind. Until he had a sentence that he thought was as close to the line as he could get without going over. “I was sincerely nervous to set this date.”
“Really? Why? You don’t strike me as the shy type.”
“Because of the things I’ve seen on the news. The two men that were killed in the hotels.”
“Why would that…” She stopped and stared at him a moment. “That shouldn’t make you nervous.”
“They said it was an escort.”
She drew her arms closer to her body, an instinctive protective stance. “I didn’t see that.”
“Yeah, I just read it like yesterday. They know that it was an escort who killed those two and they’re looking for her right now. You can see why I was nervous.”
She was quiet a moment and then smiled. “I won’t bite. I promise.”
The food came and Stanton stirred the salad around. He couldn’t eat. His stomach was in knots and he felt nauseated. Heather continued to do most of the talking. Stanton asked about her childhood and she opened up about it. She spoke mostly of school and moving around, of not having parents there for her when she needed them. No mention was made of a sister or institutionalization. Of course, he wouldn’t mention that on a first date with a stranger either.
By the time they were done with their meal, and dessert was on its way, Stanton knew most of her history. He revealed little about himself other than vagaries that she probably could have guessed. When asked what he did for a living, he said he was part of the faculty at the University of Hawaii.
As much as he tried to steer the conversation toward the murders, she would fight to turn it to something else. At one point, she flat-out said, “I’d like to stop talking about these horrible killings and focus on our night instead.”
Stanton brought it up again a little later. She clammed up the moment he mentioned the killings and wouldn’t speak about them again. He wouldn’t be getting anything else from her.
“How about we get out of here,” he said.
“You don’t want dessert?”
“I’d like to go somewhere and get drinks if that’s alright with you.”
“More than all right. Let’s go.”
Stanton recited the key phrase in his head before saying it out loud. “You like magic?”
“Magic?” she said, as they rose.
“Yeah, you know, magicians?”
“I guess. Why?”
“I know a place that has a great magic show,” he lied.
“Why not? Not the worst way to spend a date.”
42
Suzanne sat on the patio as the boys played video games inside. She’d allowed one of Johnny’s friends to come over. Mathew was inside talking on the phone to someone who she guessed was a girl.
The ocean was brightly lit by a full moon. The temperature hovered in the seventies and she wore shorts and sandals, though she’d kicked off her sandals and put her feet up on the patio table. A chilled glass of white wine was on the table in front of her, and she’d take the occasional sip. A warm buzz ran through her head; she didn’t want to ruin it by getting drunk.
The sliding glass door opened and Mathew came out. He sat down next to her and reached for the glass of wine.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said.
“I thought you were the cool neighbor.”
“I am. But your dad would have me arrested if I let you drink.”
He shrugged. “I’m almost old enough to die in war but not old enough to have a drink of wine?”
“Dying is easy. Anyone can do it. Handling your alcohol is something else.” She could sense the slight slur in her speech and knew she’d drunk too much already. “Your dad talked to me about you. He said you snuck a girl in.”
“He told you that?”
“I think he just wanted a female perspective. I don’t think you can know how hard it is for a man to raise children without their mother around. I was raised by a single dad, too.”
Mathew put his feet up on the table as well, almost mimicking what Suzanne was doing. “My dad’s really cool, but he gets weird about that stuff. I think it’s his religion.”
“His religion? But not yours?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I mean, I go ’cause it makes him happy, but I’m not into it. Why wouldn’t I want to drink and have sex? We’ve only got one life, right? That’s crazy.”
“Well, maybe your dad feels that every action has a reaction. And if you do bad things, bad things could happen to you.”
“You drink, don’t you? Do bad things happen to you?”
She grinned. “That’s not what I meant. And yes, they do. I got a DUI six years ago that cost me over ten thousand dollars when everything was all done. And my driver’s license was suspended and I had to go through the humiliation of being in jail for a night… it wasn’t fun.”
“Then why do you keep drinking?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I certainly don’t drive anymore after I’ve drank.”
He thought quietly a moment. “I really like this girl.”
She smiled. Despite the fact that he was young, and she should be dissuading him from such entanglements, mostly because that’s what his father would want, he looked adorable speaking about girls. “What’s her name?”
“Olina.”
“Oh, native girl, huh?”
“Yeah, and she is hot. She says she wants me to come over and meet her family, but I’m nervous. I think her dad doesn’t like haoles.”
“Some of them are like that, but a lot of whites don’t like our children dating natives either. You can’t hold it against him. I’m sure once he gets to know you he’ll open up.”
He shrugged. “I guess.” A moment passed in silence as they listened to the waves. “Do you like my dad?”
She nearly choked on the sip of wine she was taking. “Mathew, that’s none of your business.”
“Sure it is. You’re like my cool aunt, and he’s my dad.”
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“Well, that’s a disturbing way to think about it, but okay. And yes, I like your dad. But I’m not sure he likes me.”
“He does. He’s just kinda weird. My mom says he thinks too much.”
She nodded. “That does seem to describe him.”
“Don’t give up on him, okay?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t.”
The doorbell rang. She took another sip of wine and went to answer it.
43
Stanton went to the hostess and asked for his check. Heather was behind him. She took his hand in hers and he could feel her press herself against him. She smelled sweet, but he couldn’t place the scent.
The waiter came out with the check and he paid on his credit card. It was over two hundred dollars. After he got his receipt and left the tip, they walked out of the restaurant. Her arm was in the crook of his elbow again and he walked slowly. A couple, both detectives, were coming in through the doors and he held it open for them and then for Heather. She said, “Thank you,” and walked through.
Once outside, he fell a few paces behind, pretending to place the receipt in his wallet. He spotted Jones walking toward the front doors. Two teams of two were coming in from the east and the west. Several members of SWAT were stationed around the parking lot. The couple Stanton had held the door open for had come through again behind them, cutting off every direction of escape.
An explosion of sound ripped through the air. Men were shouting and running, guns drawn. Stanton fell back and Heather’s eyes went wide as she realized what was happening. She ran backward, slamming into the couple. The male detective wrapped his arms around her waist and she swung back with an elbow and caught him in the eye. His grip loosened, and she sprinted for the doors.
Stanton stepped in front of her. He placed his hand behind his back as though reaching for a firearm tucked away in a holster. Heather froze.
“Please,” he said, “just put your hands up. Fighting won’t help.”
Jones was the first one there. He wrapped his arms around her and twisted, taking her down to the ground hard. Stanton shouted for him to take it easy, but he violently jerked back her arms to get the cuffs on, and she screamed.
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