“You shouldn’t have been there at all,” Robert maintained. “But we don’t need to keep beating that dead horse. According to the autopsy report, Dana died from a cardiac tamponade. Ever heard of one?”
“I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”
“You need to know,” Robert said. “That way you can quit telling yourself you should have done more.”
Jack stared at his beer bottle remembering the sorrow showing in her green eyes seconds after the accident . . . and that final moment when she took her last breath and died in his arms. A silent apology for what happened to her. Blaming herself, not him. Something he couldn’t accept.
No medical report was going to change that.
He knew who was responsible. He was. And the official cause of death entered on a form at the police department would not convince him otherwise. That look of remorse in her eyes was forever ingrained in his memory.
He met Robert’s gaze. “I fucked up, plain and simple.”
“You want to blame yourself, that’s your choice. There’s plenty to blame yourself for.” Clearly, Robert wasn’t backing down. “But not being able to save her isn’t one of them. A sliver of metal barely a centimeter and a half in length—probably from when the safe fell on her—pierced the pericardium, the sack around her heart, causing it to fill with blood. The blood in turn put pressure on the heart that caused it to stop beating. Without an immediate diagnosis and emergency surgery, nothing you or even an EMT could have done would have saved her.”
Jack quietly weighed his friend’s words.
“I know how you think,” Robert added. “First Maiko dies, then Dana.”
Jack hollowed at the mention of her name. And the knowledge the woman he loved was gone from his life, forever. He turned his gaze to the street and the harbor beyond, unable to look his friends in the face. Shamed by his selfishness.
Both women dead because of him.
“Fine,” Robert said after a moment of silence. “Have it your way.”
Jack couldn’t let the conversation end there.
“It’s not about having it my way,” he said. “The whole screwed up mess falls on my shoulders.”
“Does it?” Robert’s eyes remained focused on his. “Kazuko and I had a part in this, too.”
“But you didn’t insist on diving on the wreck in the middle of the night to see if the necklace was there.”
“I get it.” Robert shook his head. “You’re mad at the world and all you want is to beat up on yourself. Drink your beer and let’s talk about something else.”
Jack wasn’t ready to let go.
Not that easily.
“Talk about being mad. What about you two? I don’t like that you’re angry at me. And I don’t like that she’s angry at me.”
“Who says we are?”
“Hell, it’s only obvious. Truth is, you have a right to be.”
He sat unblinking, giving the words time to sink in. Robert and Kazuko stared back. Each of them sat that way for a full thirty seconds.
He finally said, “Maybe I should go.”
“Go where?”
“Kimo’s rental—where I’ve been staying.”
“I know where you’ve been staying,” Robert said. “I meant where are you going?”
“Dana’s memorial is tomorrow morning. After that, I’ll hang out here a few days. Then . . . I don’t know.”
Kazuko reached across the table and laid her hand on top of his. It was warm and soft and comforting. And an all too fresh reminder of Dana’s touch. Even so, he was glad her hand was there.
“You’re grieving,” she said. “We both understand that. Stay and have another beer with Robert and me.”
“Chiharu Takahashi isn’t done with us, you know?”
Robert glanced around as if suddenly nervous. “I hoped they had given up on us. Now you’ve got me thinking.”
“I’ve already been thinking.”
Robert’s gaze settled on his. “This isn’t over for you, is it?”
Jack shook his head. “I haven’t even gotten started.”
CHAPTER 67
Chiharu Takahashi sat in front of the large west-facing window in her top-floor condo in downtown Oahu and shifted her weight in the wicker peacock chair.
Neither comfortable, nor uncomfortable.
The modest piece of furniture was the least expensive she owned. She’d chosen that chair not because she felt like an island princess sitting in it, but rather because the loose weave of the cane let the sun through to warm her bones.
Relief from the pain in her joints. Nothing more.
It was difficult for her not to fear the worst. She could almost feel the presence of her father behind her. Looking down, shaking his head in disgust. Ashamed of how she had mishandled the sale and recovery of the necklace. Mistakes that should not have been made.
Mistakes that would not have been made if he had been in charge.
Fearing his disapproval had made her what she was. And it was because of him that she had not been able to let the Black Star of Africa go. He was the person who taught her to treasure beautiful things. When he died, she had already learned the value of it. As she did now.
And she’d not give in. There was still one card to be played.
She felt the burner phone vibrate in her hand.
The call from Shunichi Takeo she’d been waiting for.
She raised the cell to her ear. “Talk to me.”
“The police do not know where I am.” He did not sound confident. “But I fear it is only a matter of time before they do.”
“You’re still on Maui?”
“Just as you requested.”
“And you’ve managed to keep a low profile?”
“It has not been easy.”
“It’s not safe for you here, either.” For a moment she feared her condo might be bugged. And just as quickly dismissed her concern. Her technicians had gone over the place twice. “Not while Jack Ferrell and his two friends are alive. Jack knows who you are. That fool Mitsuru told him your name; Shoji’s, too. It’s time to finish what you remained behind to do. I want the three of them eliminated. Only then will it be safe for you to return.”
“We are fortunate the girlfriend is dead.”
“Yes. A most fortunate accident indeed. But it was her report that put the feds onto us. The damage was already done.”
“You have survived indictment before. Surely this time will be no different.”
“Unfortunately, I do not share your confidence.”
“I wish I felt the same about my situation.”
“With the witnesses dead, there will be no way for them to prove you killed Maiko. Or any other accusations made against you.”
“Have they approached you about the necklace?”
“The FBI showed up here asking questions. I showed them the contents of my safe to avoid the complications of a search warrant. But the feds do not give up easily. I’m sure they will be back.”
“You knew they were coming?”
“I was tipped off.”
“And if they do return?”
“There is nothing of importance here for them to find. I have made sure of that.”
“The diamond is safe, then?”
She felt herself stiffen. There was something in the tone of his voice. Something she hadn’t heard before.
Was Takeo searching for information?
For the first time, she questioned his loyalty. The noose was tightening. Was it her paranoia getting the best of her or was he looking for a way out? Something he could trade for his freedom.
. . . Even his life?
“Yes,” she said. “And only I know its location.”
CHAPTER 68
Jack convinced himself to sit with his friends a while more. He had no idea how long it would be before he had the opportunity to share their company again.
If at all.
He asked, “Do either of you regret the adventures we’
ve been involved in?”
Their silence was answer enough. For the moment.
He’d asked himself that same question a thousand times since Dana’s death. And a dozen times on the way there. He knew the answer as far as he was concerned. But he wanted to hear what they had to say.
Robert motioned at the table. “Drink your beer, Jack.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What is it you want us to say?” Robert met his gaze straight on. “That we enjoyed every minute? That we can’t wait to do it again? Well, forget it.”
“We did have some exciting times, though.”
“And too many close calls.”
Jack peered down at his bottle of Foster’s and picked at the label. “Maybe that wasn’t a fair question for me to ask after what’s happened.”
“I thought we were talking about something else?”
“I suppose we were.”
Two towheaded kids no more than seven or eight raced by, pursued closely by their mother. A brother and sister most likely, laughing. The girl chasing the boy. Both having fun with the game. Their entire lives ahead of them.
Jack went back to peeling the label from his bottle. Their childish antics should have brightened his mood. They didn’t.
He sighed and looked at his friends. They both watched him.
Dammit.
“I admit it,” he said. “I’m not all that fun to be with right now.”
This time Kazuko answered. “None of us are, I’m afraid.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and held it.
“Come on, Jack.” Robert was clearly frustrated. “You’re a lot of things. Pathetic isn’t one of them. It doesn’t suit you.”
“No?”
“Not at all. But I know you feel like you need to be a deplorable mess. Why, I’m not sure. Punishment maybe. Or perhaps it’s how you think a person in your position should feel. It might take some time, but you’ll come around.”
“And be like I used to be?”
“Maybe even better for it.”
Jack faced the harbor. The tepid water almost looked cool. The magic of his Polaroid lenses.
“Time seems to be the answer to a lot of things,” he said. “After you get home, you’re planning on going away for a while, aren’t you?”
“We’ve decided it’s the prudent thing to do.”
“Yeah, let the authorities handle it.”
“At this point we don’t have a choice. Probably should have listened to Kazuko in the first place and let them handle it. But that’s water under the bridge. So neither of us will be saying, I told you so. We just have to find a way to live with what’s happened and hang loose until it’s over.”
Jack was quiet, thinking it through. Kazuko seemed content to let Robert do the talking. On the sidewalk out front, a kid with long dreadlocks and a red and orange knit cap walked past sucking hard on a hand-rolled cigarette.
He smelled the dope.
“Sorry, Jack, but you need to give serious thought to what I’m saying. No matter how much you want to remain here playing Lone Wolf McQuade, it would be a good idea for you to consider going with us. Or if you want to be by yourself, get on that sixty-foot catamaran of yours and sail off into the sunset. The point being, don’t stick around here beating yourself up. Or worse.”
“We both know that’s not going to happen.”
“And we both know that what you’re planning could end badly.”
“This is not something I can just get over.”
Dreadlocks had moved on, but Jack could still smell the lingering odor of the primo bud he was toking on. He wondered if perhaps that was the answer. Smoke himself into oblivion and stay stoned. Maui had enough high-quality marijuana growing on it to get everyone on the island loaded and keep them there.
It was Kazuko’s turn again. “Please, Jack. Don’t stay here.”
He gave her words a full half-second thought.
“It’s what I have to do.”
She sighed and slowly shook her head. “Then there’s no use trying to talk you out of it.”
“None,” he said. “I’m just sorry I turned the plastic explosive over to the cops.”
Robert rocked forward in his set. “Jesus, Jack. Get a grip. You can’t go around blowing people up.”
“Seemed like a good idea.”
“But not realistic.”
“Maybe not. So where are you guy’s going on your trip?”
“Are we finally talking about something else now?”
“Just curious?”
“An associate of mine has a cabin at Lake Tahoe—a house really—right next to the water. We’ll be staying there until this blows over.”
“Weather should be turning nice up there about now. I’m sure you’ll both have a wonderful time. Maybe you can get in some fishing, catch a few of those big lake trout they show in brochures.”
“I just might give it a try.”
“Great.” Jack scooted his chair back and stood at the edge of the table. “I’m going to go.”
Robert stood and offered his hand. “Those adventures you talked about, they weren’t all bad.”
Jack pumped it. Then he watched Kazuko stand, and leaned into her hug. She gave him a peck on the cheek and pulled away.
“Do me a favor, Jack. Take care of yourself.”
He smiled, took a step, and stopped.
“One thing,” he said, looking at Robert. “Do you mind letting me borrow your shotgun?”
CHAPTER 69
Jack carried the beach towel concealing the shotgun into Kimo’s rental and laid the bundle on the breakfast bar. Saying good-bye to Robert and Kazuko had been far more difficult than he thought it would be.
And painful.
They were the best friends he had. And always would be.
The morning’s copy of the Maui News was still folded in half on the counter next to where he laid the gun. So were the papers from the past three days. All in a nice neat stack. Not all that different from the way Dana had laid out her magazines on the coffee table.
In alignment, ready to be read.
Each day he’d added the latest edition to the previous day’s copy. And each day he’d debated looking at them. But he never got around to it. The days seemed to take care of themselves. The hours slipping by in a kind of haze that sucked the life out of him. All ending with him feeling there was no good reason to read about something he knew first-hand.
He thought perhaps it was time.
Or chuck them into the recycle can and be rid of them for good.
There were three Coronas left in the carton in the refrigerator. He popped the cap from one and carried it and the papers over to the rattan chair in the living room and sat down. He set the beer aside and opened the oldest of the four papers by date. He planned to read them in order.
The first article was sketchy. It showed a not-so-flattering photograph of Dana in uniform and stated she had died in a diving accident. But the brief editorial gave few details of the incident. And there was no mention of a police or federal investigation into suspected criminal activity. It was too early for an obituary to be posted.
He took a sip of beer and rubbed his eyes trying not to relive the events of that dreadful morning. It wasn’t working. The sorrow he saw when he peered into her facemask was something he’d never forget. A silent apology for what happened to her. Blaming herself, not him.
There was no way he could describe the vacuum her death had left in his life.
He tried to smile through the pain. But tears welled and one broke loose, streaking his cheek. He sniffled, told himself he could do this, and picked up the next day’s paper.
The article appeared on the front page this time. Several lines longer than the first one. The same mundane photograph. But in this editorial, the paper mentioned suspected criminal activity, but offered few details as to what that activity was. He guessed the authorities weren’t telling them much. The cops certai
nly weren’t sharing any of the details he’d provided them.
He thumbed through the pages and found her obituary had been printed. An excellent tribute that listed her date of birth, age, and all her achievements. Mother: Glenna Ann Mores, 63. Sister: Cassidy, 32. The notice concluded by saying a memorial service would be held at Keawalai Congregational Church in Makena on Saturday at eleven.
Tomorrow.
Ten days before her birthday.
At one time, she’d mentioned she loved that church. It was shortly after they met, during one of their long, wonderful conversations about the islands. She’d never attended a service there, but loved that the building had been built in the mid-eighteen hundreds, having originally been constructed of pili grass and later of wood and stone collected from the nearby beach. Apparently she’d mentioned it to her family. He was glad they remembered.
The beer tasted good, real good.
He gulped down a third of it, set the bottle aside, and looked at her picture again. Even though the photo was printed in black and white and in poor resolution, he could clearly see every feature of her face. Especially her eyes and mouth.
The features that drew him in every time he looked at her.
He didn’t need a color image to be reminded of how captivating her green eyes were. Or that the light danced golden flecks in them when they stared lovingly at each other. In the snapshot, she had a Mona Lisa smile. Just enough of one to curl the corners. Full upper and bottom lips.
A beautiful woman’s mouth and eyes.
An all too vivid reminder of the passion in her kiss, and in her gaze when she peered deep into his wildest desires.
Passion that would live in his heart.
He shifted in his seat, suddenly anxious to be done with the newspapers. To bury them in the recycle pile.
It came as a relief to find there was no article in Thursday’s edition, or the one from that morning. He chugged the remainder of his beer, folded the papers together, and carried them and the empty bottle to the recycle bin. Apparently the story was on hold until further information was obtained. Law enforcement was obviously doing a good job of keeping a lid on their investigation.
And hopefully a noose around Chiharu Takahashi and her thugs.
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