Black Sands

by Colleen Coble

  Mano’s grin faded. He looked around. “There’s an appliance dolly. That will help.” He went to the dolly and wheeled it back to the shelf unit. “Stand back.”

  She stood her ground. “I’ll help. I’m no hothouse orchid—I’m the hardy Hawaiian type.” She got on one side without waiting for him to answer. She found a fingerhold and heaved it an inch off the floor, though her muscles protested. Together they managed to get the unit onto the dolly and moved it in front of the broken window.

  Mano was sweating by the time they finished, and a sheen of perspiration dampened Annie’s face as well. “What about the other window?” she asked.

  “The bars are intact there. But I could nail some boards across it.” Mano rummaged through a lumber pile left from when Tomi built the back deck. He emerged with several boards, which he nailed in a crosshatch pattern across the window.

  “That should hold them,” he said in satisfaction. “I need to call a locksmith.”

  They went inside, where she gave him the phone book. While he made his call, she went to the back deck and sat in the moonlight. Inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, she realized her brother could walk through the door any minute. Leilani too. Their family would be complete again. At least as complete as it was ever going to be with Mother gone.

  Seven

  Mano was wide awake and on edge when he left the Tagama house. Too keyed up to go back to his hotel room, he decided to finish scouting out the adjoining land that belonged to Kauhi. He kept his headlights off and crept along the dark road illuminated only by the moon. Parking in the black gravel, he pulled out his key and got out.

  Rocks loomed like dragons in the dark, unfamiliar landscape. His sneakers crunched on the rough rock underfoot even though he tried to be quiet. The night air held a scent of flowers. There was no wind, so every noise seemed loud. If Kauhi was alert, he’d be shooting that rifle with no warning. It was probably stupid to be out here.

  A light shone in the shack where the old man lived. Mano could see a shadow moving inside. Good. At least Kauhi wasn’t prowling around out here in the dark. The windows were open, and Mano could hear the old guy singing a tuneless song in Hawaiian. He skirted the cabin and wandered through a moonscape land of barren lava fields softened by the occasional ohia tree and tree fern. He nearly fell into several holes. What was wrong with him? His head felt strange—fuzzy. Realization dawned. He was having a diabetic reaction. He needed to get back to the car and take care of it.

  He stumbled back the way he came, crashing into boulders and stumbling over shrubs. His confusion and befuddlement deepened, and it wasn’t until he was back to his car that he realized something was running down his face. He opened his car door and touched the sticky mess on his head. His hand came away bloody. Did the old man shoot at him? Mano couldn’t remember. He fell into the car and fumbled in the glove box. His lips were numb as he managed to unwrap a Hershey’s Kiss. He popped it in his mouth and chomped it down quickly. Leaning his head back against the headrest, he waited for the hypoglycemic symptoms to subside.

  His body was betraying him. Rage and frustration bubbled behind his foggy state. He didn’t want this—didn’t want to be less than whole and strong. The exertion at Annie’s must have tapped his blood sugars and led to this sinking spell. The helplessness of the diagnosis made the future seem as murky as his thoughts. His mind began to clear as the carbs kicked up his blood-sugar level. He opened his eyes and held out his hand. It shook, and he realized he was still too shaky to explore Kauhi’s tonight.

  He dug a notebook out of his pocket and jotted down the time he’d taken the candy. His mealtimes were spaced properly. It must have been the extra exertion. The doctor said it would take time to figure out how to regulate his illness, but he needed to be as alert as possible if he was going to help the Tagama family.

  As soon as his head and vision cleared, he started the car and drove back to his motel. He parked outside and found his room key. He noticed a figure standing outside his door and then recognized the man. Noah Sommers. Mano got out and quietly closed his car door. Noah was on his cell phone with his back to the road. Mano approached as silently as he could, hopeful he might overhear something that would illuminate Noah’s purpose in returning to the island. Gravel crunched under his feet, and Noah looked up.

  “Gotta go,” he said, clicking off his cell phone and pocketing it. “Hey, Mano.” He frowned. “You look like crap. Is that blood on your face?”

  “I don’t know. You don’t look any better than I feel.” Noah’s wrinkled aloha shirt appeared to have been slept in, and his hair stood up on end. The dark circles under his eyes added to the malaise on his face. “Were you looking for me?”

  “Yeah.” Noah shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

  Mano unlocked the door to his room. “Come on in.”

  “Mahalo,” Noah said. He followed Mano inside.

  The maid had cleaned the room, and it still smelled faintly of pine cleaning products. Mano tossed his key on the desk. “Let me wash my face.” He went to the bathroom and winced when he looked in the mirror. His face was scraped and bloody. No bullet holes though. He must have fallen against lava rock. At least Kauhi hadn’t heard him. After scrubbing his face with soap and water, he went back to the bedroom.

  Noah sat in the desk chair doodling on a pad. Mano sat on the edge of the double bed. “So what’s up?”

  Noah looked up and dropped the pen on the pad. He laced his fingers together and stared at the faded carpet. “I need your help. I know you don’t really know me, but I don’t know where else to turn. Jillian says you’re with the navy. I can’t go to the cops, so you’re the next best thing.”

  Mano was supposed to be on vacation. Apparently there would be no rest on this leave. Mano got up and rummaged in the small refrigerator. “Want a bottle of water?” He missed the old days when he could drink half a dozen cans of Pepsi a day. Now all he drank was water. Just another way his life had changed.

  “No thanks.” Noah shifted in the chair and began to jiggle his knee.

  Might as well get it over with. Mano went back to the bed. “I’m not sure I can help you. I’m on leave right now.”

  “I know, Kaia told me. But I’m desperate. I did something stupid.”

  Mano straightened. He’d assumed Noah wanted to talk about Jillian’s research. “Go on.”

  Noah looked up finally. “I know it looks bad what I did to my family.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Bad wasn’t the word for it. More like disgusting.

  “My reasoning seemed sound at the time. Now I’m not so sure. I think I’ve gone from the lava bench into the caldera.” He stood. “Maybe I’ll take that water after all.” He helped himself, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. He set the bottle down on the desk. “I guess I’d better give you some background.”

  Mano wished he would get to the point. “Okay.”

  “You ever play craps, Mano?”

  Mano blinked. Where was Noah going with this? “Not really. I put a quarter in a one-armed bandit once.”

  “Good for you. Don’t ever get started.” He lifted his head and stared at Mano. “We’re a lot alike, I think. You live for the thrill of a new adventure. I can see it in your eyes. So did I once. I gambled and lost my family, my reputation, my career. Take a tip from me and learn to temper that adventurous spirit. The thrill of the chase doesn’t last. An empty house is pretty lonely.”

  Mano moved restlessly. Noah’s observations hit a little too close to the mark. “You’d better get on with what you have to say.”

  “Our type is always in a hurry.” Noah stared into space. “Sometimes all we’re left with is time.” He blinked, and his eyes came back into focus. “Are you aware there’s going to be a casino on the island? And more than just a casino. A bunch of hotels and homes.”

  Mano frowned. “No, but I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. Casinos are a blight everywhere else.”

  “They promised me a gr
eat job if I could make sure Jillian’s research wasn’t published. So I changed it, made it suit their purposes. I thought I could make her understand. But I don’t even have the words to try to explain it to her.”

  Noah’s babbles made no sense to Mano. “Why are you telling me this? What’s this have to do with me being in the navy?”

  “I want my family back, and the only way for that to happen is for me to tell the truth. But that might get me killed. If you poke around on your own and uncover the story, I’ll be free to tell what I know.”

  “Seems a convoluted way to go about it. Just tell the truth and ask for police protection. Talk to a reporter for added protection.”

  “I don’t have any proof. It would be just my word against theirs. If you find out what’s going on, there would be something to go on.”

  “You’re not making any sense. How could having a casino on the island lead you to steal your wife’s research?”

  Noah hesitated. “Jillian’s research—the research that didn’t get published—concluded that a new magma chamber was growing under the area they want to develop.”

  “Weren’t they concerned all their money would be thrown away if an eruption occurred?”

  “At this stage, they’d lose more if word got out. They’re neck-deep in contracts. Besides, I told them what they wanted to hear— that it was likely flawed data.”

  “Is it?”

  Noah shrugged. “Maybe. It’s hard to say. Jillian is a good vol-canologist, but even if she’s right, it wouldn’t happen for years.”

  “I didn’t think these things could be predicted so easily.”

  “They can’t. I doubted that anything would happen in the next twenty years. They’d rake in millions before it happened—if it ever did. And money was tight. My company was downsizing; my job was on the chopping block. I had to do something. So I took their money and published the research as my own. I hadn’t counted on Jillian throwing such a tantrum.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Mano said. “You trashed Jillian’s professional reputation, then expected her to forget it?”

  “I miscalculated.” A muscle in Noah’s jaw flexed.

  “What about publishing a retraction? That should be simple enough. You don’t need me for that.”

  Noah shook his head. “They’d make sure I never got it to print.”

  Mano blinked slowly as he thought. “What’s the area in question?”

  “They’re buying up Aloha Shores and several private tracts. The Tagama’s land and the mountain just behind it.”

  Mano hadn’t heard of any offers to buy the Tagama land. Then he thought of the money in Tomi’s bankbook. Had he secretly sold the family’s land to the casino? Alarm should be setting his nerves on edge, but a strange lethargy played havoc with his thoughts. He realized his blood sugar was still too low. He just had to hold on until it climbed a bit more. He popped a hard candy from the bedside table into his mouth.

  “Want one?” he offered to Noah. Before Noah could answer, he heard glass shatter. Something stung the side of his face. He put up his hand and touched something wet on his temple. His fingers were red when he lowered them. He stared at them. Blood.

  Something pinged on the wall, and what was happening finally penetrated his foggy brain. “Get down!” He dove for the floor. Another bullet plowed into the carpet by his head. He heard a series of soft thuds and saw Noah running for the door. “Wait!” Mano called. He got to his hands and knees as Noah threw open the door and rushed out into the shadows.

  Mano staggered to his feet. His head was spinning, and the heat on his cheek told him he was still bleeding. The shooting had stopped. He stepped to the doorway and looked outside. Taillights winked in the darkness as Noah’s vehicle pulled onto the street.

  He heard the sound of running feet and instinctively stepped back and slammed his door shut. A thump came from the other side of the door. “You okay in there?”

  Relief as sweet as guava nectar flooded him. It was the motel proprietor, Aaron. Mano opened the door. “Someone shot at us. Call the police.” His head spun, and he stumbled back toward the bed. Lights danced in his vision like menehunes with tiny lamps. He sank to the edge of the bed and put his head between his legs, then fumbled for another piece of candy. He sucked on the sweetness, hoping his confusion would soon lift.

  “I’ll call an ambulance too.” Aaron stepped inside and grabbed the phone.

  Mano dimly heard him speak to the police in an excited tone. Gradually the sugar began to make a difference, and his thinking cleared. Aaron handed him a tissue from the bathroom. He took it and blotted the blood from his cheek.

  “You’d better not touch anything,” he told Aaron. “The police will need to sweep the room.” Most likely they wouldn’t find anything but bullet fragments. But there might be something outside. In the distance he could hear sirens. They grew louder, and he stood to go meet the police, then swayed.

  “I think you’d better sit down before you fall.” Aaron caught him by the elbow.

  “I’m fine.” He tried to tug his arm from Aaron’s grip, and the movement made the room spin. He sat back on the bed. The sirens grew louder, and he smelled the scent of something he couldn’t identify—something sweet yet cloying that filled his head and sinuses. He shook his head to clear it, then put his head between his legs again.

  Dimly, he heard the sirens stop. He lifted his head when Sam came running through the door. The officer had his pistol out. His face changed when he saw Mano.

  “Oana, I should have known you’d be mixed up in this somehow.”

  Mano’s head was clearing. “You can put your gun away, Rambo. The guy’s gone.”

  Sam scowled but holstered his gun. “What happened here?”

  “You tell me.” Mano gestured toward the window. “Someone decided to use me for target practice.”

  Sam drew near the bed and glanced at Mano’s temple. “Looks like he didn’t miss.”

  “I think he was aiming about four inches closer in.” Mano dabbed at his temple again. He looked at the wadded tissue, but it was nearly clean of blood now. The wound was beginning to stop bleeding.

  Sam’s lips tightened. “Check him out,” he barked to the paramedics. He glanced around the room.

  Mano looked around, trying to see the scene through Sam’s eyes. The funky walls were an aqua-on-steroids color. The bedspread was just as gaudy, a mess of garish oranges and greens. This place must not have been updated since the sixties. “A bullet hit the floor there.” Mano pointed. “And one went into the wall there.” He showed Sam the hole by the desk, a blond piece of furniture marred by numerous nicks and cuts. The place was clean and that was all he’d cared about.

  “Any idea why you’d be a target?”

  Mano hesitated. His gut told him Noah had been the target, not him. But Sam was liable to scare Noah off, and Mano wanted to find out more about the casino deal and whether it might be linked to Tomi. “I have no idea.”

  “There were quite a few shots, so whoever it was meant business.” Sam stooped and peered at the bullet fragment on the floor. “Looks like .357.”

  Mano didn’t reply. If he had to confess to Noah’s presence later, he would. Right now, he needed to find Noah. He flinched when the paramedic dabbed a stinging liquid on his wound.

  “That’s going to need stitches,” the man told him. “It wouldn’t hurt to get an X-ray.”

  “Slap a butterfly bandage on it, and let me out of here,” Mano said. He glanced at Sam, but the detective was intent on gathering the evidence. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if Mano stepped around outside to the window where the bullets came in. Mano’s head was clearer now.

  The paramedic turned him loose, and he went to the door. Another car with flashing lights on top pulled into the lot. Sam had called for backup. Mano needed to act fast. He grabbed a flashlight from his car and rounded the corner of the building.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Sam called after him.

 
Mano flipped on the flashlight and shone it on the ground. The light touched crumpled candy and gum wrappers, soda tabs, and a shave ice cup. He could barely see the imprint of where someone had stood in the grass, but it didn’t tell him anything.

  He swept the light back and forth across the area one more time and then caught a glint of metal. Probably another soda tab. He knelt and parted the grass carefully. A ring winked up at him. He started to pick it up, then realized he’d be in trouble for tampering with the evidence. He dug a pen out of his pocket and lifted it so he could see it more clearly.

  It was a man’s ring. The onyx stone was topped with a gold “A.” A bit from one of the prongs was missing. Mano dropped it back into the grass and put away his pen. “Sam, out here,” he called through the broken window. Once the detective joined him, he pointed out the ring. “It could have been here for a while, but it might be evidence.”

  “I told you to leave this to me,” Sam growled. “We’ll handle the investigation.” He picked up the ring, his hand clad in latex gloves, and stared at it. “Are you sure it isn’t yours?”

  “Positive,” Mano said. He took a step back.

  “You’re hiding something, Oana,” Sam said. “I’m going to find out what it is. You might as well tell me now.”

  “Is that your usual manner—to harass the victim?” Mano was ready to get out of there. He’d had all of Sam’s attitude he could take. “Look, let’s put our history behind us and focus on the problems.” He stalked off toward his car. Noah knew better than to go to his rental. Maybe Jillian would know where he might be.

  Annie’s covers were in a tangle. Wilson growled as she thrashed once again and rolled over in the bed. “Sorry, sweetie.” She wiggled her fingers, and he nibbled on them. She stroked his head, deriving some comfort from his warm little body. She fluffed her pillow and propped it against the headboard. She flipped on the light. Sleep wasn’t coming so she might as well do something useful.

  She glanced at her Bible on the stand beside her bed and reached for it, then changed her mind and picked up a thick research paper she’d been wanting to read. Flipping open the cover, she pulled her knees into a tent position and propped the manual on her legs. Wilson poked his head between the pages and closed his eyes.