by Debra Bokur
“Sunspot Ltd.,” Walter said after a suitable pause, “is actually an umbrella group for not one, but multiple housing developments here and on the Big Island that specialize in solar-powered homes. And one of the developments is Secret Haven.”
“Billy Shane.”
More crackling. To Kali’s ears, it was filled with tension.
“We ran his records twice, because you didn’t like him. They were spotless. The only things that came up were personal.”
“Right. Something about a daughter?”
“Lived back and forth with him and the mother following an ugly divorce. Kid was in and out of hospital facilities. Psychiatric. Exhibited strong sociopathic tendencies and was expelled from two different schools for acts of cruelty against other life forms.”
“You didn’t tell me the details,” she said.
“Didn’t seem related to what we’re looking at.”
“What kind of things did she do?”
Walter grimaced. “Locked another girl in a storage shed behind a school when she was eight. But first, she cut off all the other kid’s hair. Showed zero concern about it.”
“And?”
“Set some hamsters on fire in the school science lab when she was ten. They found her standing there, watching them burn. Again, no sign of remorse or even an understanding that what she was doing was wrong.”
Kali felt her stomach twist.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” she said.
“Yeah, agreed. There was also something about the daughter’s husband. Local guy from Kaua‘i Island, killed in a hit-and-run. The case is still open. There’d been one domestic violence call a few months before, but not what you think. The husband was having an affair, and Shane’s daughter apparently beat the crap out of him when she found out. While he was sleeping. Anyway, you need to head over to the marina. Roger Blake with the Guard offered to swing by and pick us up on the launch. He’s got the full backstory, and we already have a statement from the marina attendant that a female matching Makena’s description followed Shane onto his boat, which had come in briefly to refuel.”
“So she probably wasn’t lying to us. At least not completely.”
“She’s been hanging around for a couple of days, trying to get info on the boat, based on some bullshit story about a lost necklace. I’ll meet you over there.”
Kali swung around on the road, wishing for once that she was in a vehicle with a siren. She made her way down the busy stretch of road packed with tourist traffic and pulled into the marina about fifteen minutes later. Not good time for a drive that was less than three miles from the shave-ice stand.
Walter was already there, waiting on the dock. As she made her way from the parking lot at a jog, Kali could see the Coast Guard cruiser coming in, slowing as it approached the inner harbor but still moving fast enough for its wake to rock the boats at rest in their slips in the marina. Roger Blake waved from the controls and pulled alongside the dock. Walter and Kali boarded, then joined Roger at the controls as he opened the throttle and headed back out of the harbor. His speed indicated he was far less concerned about his exit than he had been about his entrance.
Walter regarded the darkening sky with apprehension. Roger caught his glance.
“Weather moving in,” he shouted above the noise of the engine. “Either of you have any constructive ideas about where to look? I’ve got three boats in the water. There’s no sign of him.”
“We’ve got a black-and-white parked in view of his house on the Big Island,” Walter shouted back. “No one’s there. Best guess is he has Makena in open water.” He paused. “Hopefully, still on board,” he added for Kali’s benefit.
Kali picked up a pair of binoculars and began to scan the water. The few boats she could see were clearly sailboats, and they were making their way back toward the harbor. The deteriorating weather, she knew, would at least have the effect of thinning the number of craft that would have to be checked out.
She looked up at the sky again. She was suddenly sick of storms, sick of kids on drugs, sick of a society that had become so unbalanced that the bad guys really did stand a chance of winning. The rain began to fall in sheets, obscuring the lenses of the binoculars. She wiped them against her sleeve, feeling a sense of depression descend.
They’d been doing sweeps up and down the coast for about half an hour, each pass slightly farther out, when a call came in. The Beryl had been spotted.
“We’ll do the approach,” called Walter. “Tell everyone to stand back, but close enough, in case we need them. He sees too many Coast Guard uniforms, he may do something stupid.”
In the distance, they caught sight of a large, gleaming cabin cruiser. Kali pointed, and Roger swung the wheel.
“Slow down,” she cautioned. “Don’t want to spook him.”
Her spirits lifted. Maybe they weren’t too late. Maybe there would be plenty of days the bad guys would go home with the prize. But maybe, she thought, not today.
CHAPTER 37
From the deck of the Coast Guard boat, Kali peered through the binoculars. The Beryl was still at a good distance, but the lenses were strong, and she could make out the large B at the beginning of a short name on the stern. She passed the binoculars back to Walter, who nodded in agreement.
“You guys care to share your game plan?” Roger asked.
“Approach slowly and use the weather as an excuse,” said Kali. “Tell Shane that we’ve got a major storm warning and want him to move to shore.”
Walter looked dubious. “He’ll have seen it on his own radar.”
“He’s not heading for a known port, so it looks like he’s unaware,” said Kali.
“And he’s going to say thank you and follow us in?”
“You have a better idea?” Kali asked. “Please . . . I’m all ears.”
Roger turned to them, tense. “Okay, people, you two try not to look like a police search party, and I’ll use the loudspeaker to make contact.”
“We need to board,” said Kali. “If Makena’s still with him, she’s probably not sunbathing out on the deck, within easy access.”
“The closer we get to the harbor, the easier this will be,” Walter insisted. “And safer. If she’s still on the boat, he’s not going to toss her over while we’re in the vicinity.”
Kali frowned. She wasn’t completely sure that Walter was right, but how to get on board without making a bad situation potentially worse was going to be risky from any angle.
“Okay,” she said. “We’re getting close. Pull up beside him and let’s see what he has to say. I’ll stay out of sight, in case he remembers me.”
* * *
Meanwhile, from the deck of the cockpit, Shane tracked the weather. Large raindrops were falling, splashing on the gleaming white surface of the boat. He was about a mile from the shore—close enough to get in quickly, but far enough out that no one could observe anything taking place on board. He cruised slowly, parallel to the coast, making his unhurried way back to Kaupo and his daughter’s private dock.
He went below deck, then listened at the stateroom door where he’d left Makena. There was no sound from inside. He made himself comfortable back in the cockpit, where he was sheltered from the weather. His daughter stood at the helm, looking perfectly at ease. The boat rocked in the growing chop of the channel waters, the dimming light and the acrid scent in the air foretelling the imminent arrival of the coming storm. The panel barometer was clearly visible and was rapidly dropping.
The horizon was nearly empty. To the east, toward the Big Island, the only other craft in sight was the distant shape of a container ship. To the west and the Maui coast, there was another boat, smaller than the Beryl, cruising slowly at a distance.
Ten minutes later, the other boat appeared to be in the same position as before. His daughter pointed to the distant shape of the smaller boat.
“They’ve been running parallel to us for a while.”
He squinted into the distance and
the dimming light. “Probably some idiot trying to make one last catch before the storm causes an exodus of fish. The locals drive me nuts with their stupid legends.”
Her face was expressionless. “It’s so easy to scare them.”
He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. The gesture was protective, forgiving. She made no response.
Not far away now, the smaller boat turned, making its way through the mounting waves. It was growing closer. Soon, it became clear that it wasn’t a fishing boat, but a Coast Guard vessel, heading directly for the Beryl. Shane swore and banged his fist against the control panel.
“Every damn thing’s gone wrong ever since that kid showed up at the loading site and the video with that moron Polunu got out on the news.” His voice carried over the wind and the engine. “It was just a matter of time till he brought his bad luck to us. And now here it is.”
From below deck, the sound of Makena calling out could be heard.
Shane swore again. “Keep us on course. I’ll go deal with the noise.”
He made his way to the stateroom, then pulled the gun out of his waistband. After unlocking the door, he opened it just enough to see inside.
“You need to shut up right now,” he said, his voice menacing.
“I swear, I won’t tell anyone what I saw,” Makena said. Dried blood had matted the hair above her ear, and she stood unsteadily. One hand was pressed against her head; the other held tightly to the edge of a fixed set of drawers.
He pushed the door open farther and went inside, gun drawn. She backed away, watching him with slightly unfocused eyes.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, keeping his voice even. “You’re going to come up on deck with me and play house for a few minutes. There’s a Coast Guard boat on its way, and you’re going to smile and look happy and make sure everyone knows you’re on this little cruise because you want to be. Friend of the family, right?”
She said nothing.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, sweetie? One wrong word out of you, and I’ll blow a hole through your belly. Takes a long time to die from a belly wound, they say. Supposed to hurt like hell.”
She swallowed, nodding her assent.
“Good. Now come up with me and stand on the rail. Smile at my daughter and wave to the people on the other boat like you’re having the time of your life. Got it?”
Makena nodded again and walked slowly out of the stateroom. Shane followed her closely, the gun in her side. When they came up on deck together, Shane pulled her to the rail. He slipped the gun into the back of his waistband, within easy reach.
The wind had begun to whip across the surface of the water, and the rain was growing intense. There was a flash of lightning, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The Coast Guard boat slowed to a crawl, just a few yards from the Beryl. Roger stood at the bow, holding a megaphone.
“Ahoy, Beryl,” Roger called. “Severe storm rapidly approaching. Typhoon conditions are expected. For your own safety, we need you to follow us into port immediately.”
Shane pulled Makena close to his side.
“Is that really necessary?” he shouted. “Got a little party boat thing going on here.”
The sharp edge of the gun dug into Makena’s upper ribs.
Roger pointed to his ears and shook his head. He spoke into the megaphone. “Afraid I can’t hear you! Too much wind. Just follow us, please, and we’ll make sure you reach the marina safely.”
He put down the megaphone and returned to the cockpit, swinging the bow of the boat back toward shore. He turned and looked up at Shane, then made a “Follow me” gesture with his arm.
Shane waved in response and turned toward the cockpit stairs, pushing Makena in front of him.
“You keep smiling, honey,” he said. “Or else.”
She began to climb the steps, moving cautiously. They reached the cockpit, and she started to sit down. Shane pulled her up, close to the wheel and next to his daughter, and forced her to stand beside them.
“I get it, I get it,” she said, whining.
He nodded to his daughter, and as she turned the Beryl in line with the Coast Guard vessel, the bow rose from a trough and hit the crest of a wave, causing them all to nearly lose their balance. Shane grabbed at the wheel with both hands as his daughter lurched to one side.
As he steadied himself, Makena’s hand darted forward and pulled the gun from his waistband. He swung around and grabbed at her, but she was already on the stairs. She jumped shakily to the deck below, turned, and pointed the gun at his chest.
Makena wiped at the rain collecting on her face. “I might not be able to hit your head, asshole, but I’m going to bet I can at least hit something. Maybe I’ll make a great big hole in your bitch of a daughter.”
“You stupid slut!” he screamed. “What are you doing? I wasn’t going to shoot you.”
“Sure,” she said. She adjusted her aim. She pointed the gun at his stomach and pulled the trigger three times. The first bullet missed. The second hit his shoulder. The third bullet made contact with his abdomen, and Makena watched expressionlessly as he fell to the deck below and a pool of blood spread out beneath him.
CHAPTER 38
The sound reverberated through the thick, wet air. On board the Coast Guard cruiser, Kali and Walter jumped.
“Gunfire!” Kali shouted. “Pull around! Pull around!”
On the deck of the Beryl, Billy Shane lay writhing on his back, blood spewing from his belly. They could see Makena standing above him, looking down, and a second woman sliding across the wet deck before disappearing into the interior of the boat.
The cruiser pulled alongside the Beryl and rode parallel. Kali picked up the megaphone.
“Makena! Who has the gun?”
Makena waved it lazily in the air.
“Where’s Billy Shane?” Kali shouted.
Makena pointed behind her, toward the deck.
“Turn the boat! Turn the boat! You have to turn the boat or cut the engine!” Kali screamed to Makena, the sound amplified by the megaphone, rising above the noise of the boat striking the waves, as well as the thunder, now very close.
Lightning slashed through the darkening sky, and from the deck of the Coast Guard cruiser, Makena could be seen silhouetted against the white surface of the Beryl. She was shaking her head, mouthing words.
“She doesn’t know how!” Walter yelled.
Kali looked across the water. Rain sprayed in sheets across her face. The coast was approaching.
“I have to get over there!” she shouted.
“What?” Walter yelled. “How the hell you going to manage that?”
Kali looked at Roger. She screamed against the wind, “Can you get close enough to get a grappling hook over the rail?”
Roger looked uncertain, his eyes calculating the space between the boats. They were moving fast, and the water was tossing the smaller boat around.
“Can try! You think you can pull yourself up?”
Kali had no idea. But she couldn’t think of any other options. In another ten minutes, it would be too late to do anything except watch the Beryl explode as she impacted with the rocky shore, and Makena becoming an inevitable part of the debris.
“It’s not worth your life, Kali!” Walter took her arm, his voice pleading.
“Can’t make that call. Give me your cuffs!”
Walter passed her his handcuffs, and she shoved them into the waistband at the back of her jeans. She didn’t say what she was thinking in her heart, that perhaps everyone would be better off if Makena was no longer on the edge of their lives. That maybe this was the universe cleaning up one small mess and preventing some future disaster that none of them could see. Then she thought of Mike, of his face covered with the spatter of his own blood as he lay dying in front of her. Maybe Walter was right—maybe some people simply couldn’t be saved from themselves.
Roger held the wheel as Walter moved to the boat’s storage area, where he
removed a webbed line fitted with a thick grappling hook on the end. Together, Walter and Kali quickly tied a series of huge knots along the length. Walter reached back into the storage locker, fished around, and produced a pair of thick gloves, then handed them to Kali.
“Put these on,” he said. “There’s not a lot of room for error here. Stand back while I swing. Roger! Radio ahead. Make sure the shoreline in our path is cleared out, in case we wind up with an out-of-control cabin cruiser making impact on the beach rocks.”
Walter braced his feet. He turned to her and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t tell me not to, Walter,” she said before he could speak. “It’s my fault Mike died. I can’t be responsible for this, too. She’s his daughter. This is for him, not Makena.”
Walter shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I knew those kids had an arsenal in there. I wasn’t there to help; I wasn’t there to stop or protect him. When I got there, they were shooting.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Mike knew those dealers had guns. He knew all along. It’s why he took the call without you—to keep you safe!”
She felt dizzy. Walter let go of her arm and swung. The hook missed the rail, struck the side, and bounced back, narrowly missing the windscreen of the Coast Guard boat. He swung again, and this time the hook found its mark. He held the length of the line taut, his feet splayed, pressed against the deck. She stood in front of him and grasped the line as far out as she could, then wrapped her hands securely around one of the knots, trying to stay upright.
“Ready,” she yelled, and as Walter let go, Roger swung the smaller boat away to create an arc, leaving Kali momentarily suspended.
For the briefest moment, she felt a tremendous calm. Mike had been protecting her. There was no wind, no movement. There was no sound but the beating of her own heart, an acceptance that good or bad, there was no way to change what had already taken place. She was in a place of light, some of her grief sliding away, leaving her afloat, leaving her ready for whatever happened next.
Then her feet hit the water, and she crashed against the sea. The drag was excruciating, and her arms were nearly pulled from their sockets. The line swung against the side of the Beryl, and she sank below the surface. Then she rose. She gasped, spitting out the briny water, trying to catch her breath.
