by Gary Conrad
What a chilling experience . . .
Daniel had carefully reached inside the door, groping along the wall in vain for light switch — not there. He then took some moments to let his eyes adjust before he tiptoed through the house, looking into shadows, wondering when, not if, the murderer would strike out at him in a moment of absolute terror.
When he was positive no one but Daniel Fishinghawk was on the premises, he located a light switch, flipped it on and locked the front door as his first line of defense.
Perhaps, he thought, I just missed him.
Daniel sighed — better to move on and leave this memory behind.
He took another sip of his now lukewarm tea, and realized he was feeling closer and closer to Tiare, more so than one might have guessed with the short time he had known her. The longer he thought about it, the more he was certain he had no greater friend in the world. In spite of her life-threatening wound, she had continued to give him Rapanui lessons — as if she were on a mission.
He smiled and thought: They don’t make them like Tiare anymore.
Over the past few weeks, though, she had pretty much clammed up about the killer. It’s not that she wasn’t thinking about the murders; in fact, Daniel was sure she was. If he had to guess, he figured that Tiare wanted to be sure of her thoughts before she shared them with him.
A week or so ago the tourists once again began to trickle back onto the island. Four days ago another older couple, this time from France, were found cannibalized and dead in their hotel room.
Daniel was not surprised.
Salvador Diaz and his entourage had made a speedy return from Santiago, and Diaz held yet another televised press conference.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Daniel heard him proclaim, “the recent unfortunate deaths of our guests was due to another murderer trying to mimic the original killer, Roberto Ika — in other words, a copycat. Soon we will have the new killer behind bars, and our beautiful Shangri-La, Easter Island, will once again be totally safe for those of you who would like to have the experience of a lifetime —”
Daniel grimly thought: or the experience of the end of your lifetime.
He had just finished paying the tab for his dinner, when he heard a familiar voice, “Hey Hawk, how’s life for the retired detective?”
Daniel smiled as he saw José Tepano approach. “Sit down, José. Can I buy you something to drink?”
“Thanks but no thanks. I’m bushed and just want to go home and stretch out on the couch. Besides, I’ve got a couple of cold beers waiting for me in the refrigerator.”
“I understand. Any news on the investigation?”
“Nothing you wouldn’t have already guessed. Diaz brought the same five investigators with him, and he’s got them and me working night and day. I believe sometime soon we’ll have a new scapegoat.”
“No doubt.”
José paused in thought, then asked, “Hawk, have you come up with anything?”
“I’m completely baffled and Tiare hasn’t come up with any fresh ideas. So I’m just cooling my heels.”
“Cooling your heels?”
“Oh, sorry, it’s an American figure of speech. I’m just waiting and watching and keeping an eye out on Tiare.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about her. It would take a battalion of troops to take her out. Tiare will outlive all of us.”
Daniel smiled and stood, “You’re probably right. Speaking of Tiare, it’s starting to get dark — I’d better go check on her.”
José also stood. “Good plan. I’ll head home as well. Those beers are calling my name.”
Daniel grinned and stepped out to his car. He rubbed his arms as he felt a chill in the air. His short sleeved shirt was all at once no longer warm enough.
Daniel wondered: Why has it gotten so cold all of a sudden? With a start he remembered Puna Pau.
Oh, no, he thought. Oh, no . . .
Daniel accelerated and sped down the road as fast as his SUV would take him. He honked his horn and swerved back and forth, tires screeching as he avoided pedestrians, dogs, horses — anything that happened to get in his way. There was no time to spare. The wind began to gust and rain sprinkled down on his windshield.
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled into Tiare’s driveway and discovered Felipe Nahoe sitting in a lawn chair on the front porch.
As Daniel stepped out of the car, he asked, “Hey, Felipe, how are you doing?”
No response.
Daniel walked closer.
“Felipe?”
Daniel flinched as he saw a deep slash mark on the side of Felipe’s neck and a large pool of blood under the chair. Daniel quickly checked for a pulse. There was none.
“Tiare?” Daniel yelled as he frantically knocked on the door. “Oh, God! Tiare! Are you okay?”
It was then Daniel heard a scream and two gunshots echo from inside the house. He quickly pulled out his keys, unlocked the front door and burst through it. He heard more than saw the intruder as he exited through the now infamous window.
A trembling Tiare stood by her couch, holding the Beretta at her side. She said, “I am not hurt, but I’m not a very good shot. I’m afraid I missed.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked as he saw blood oozing down from a gash on her neck.
Tiare nodded. “Daniel, you must go quickly. And one more thing —”
“Yes?”
“I know,” Tiare declared.
“You know?”
“I know where our killer comes from. Daniel, be safe on your journey.”
My journey?
Daniel took a deep breath, smelled the singular odor again and said, “Felipe, he’s dead.” He saw Tiare’s eyes well with tears, but there was not a second to spare — his friend would have to deal with this by herself.
He then dashed out the door into the dark night to follow the odor — that awful, evil odor.
Chapter 18
October 13, 2014
Daniel wiped the rain from his eyes as he followed the trail of the killer. He had to be careful; if he ran too swiftly, he might lose the trail. Too slow and he might lose the scent.
As Daniel gradually worked his way out of Hanga Roa, the small amount of ambient light from the city began to fade, and he felt as if he was on the dark side of the moon. He pulled from his pocket the flashlight given to him at Gomez’s murder scene and carefully scanned the rocky ground. He could hear no footsteps and guessed the killer was pulling away from him.
Just up ahead was a rare, muddy place.
Daniel shined his light upon it.
Barefoot?
Daniel charged ahead, generally upslope to the northeast, and the rocky ground began to test even his acute tracking skills. Soon all he had was the occasional slight bend in the native grass along with the scent to mark the trail, and even that was fading.
He lectured himself: pick up the pace.
As Daniel scurried along, suddenly he sensed he had lost the trail. He paused in the middle of the blackness for a brief second and inhaled slowly and deeply. He could not find the stench in the air.
It was gone.
The light from the stars through a break in the clouds began to dimly outline the landscape — a stone wall just ahead. He hurried up to and around the wall, breathing deeply, imagining he was a hound on a hunt.
Nothing here.
His shoulders slumped and he managed a vigorous, “Oh, shit!” He turned and jogged back around the wall and along the trail he had followed, looking for something he might have missed.
Still nothing.
He began to question himself and his actions. He shook his head; he was losing his focus. He breathed and brought his scattered mind back to a single point. Tiare and Kip Kelly were right; sometimes answers came to him, ones that didn’t follow rules or logic. He asked himself:
Could the killer have backtracked and taken another trail?
No — I would have seen it.
&nbs
p; Is there any evidence of a trail beyond the wall?
None whatsoever.
So, where is the trail?
Where else could it be?
It has to be in the wall.
But where in the wall?
He returned to the wall and began to go over it with his hands, inch by inch, foot by foot, crack by crack, boulder by boulder. As he probed, suddenly his hand disappeared into what Daniel thought was a small crevice. He put his face next to it, and there was the scent of the killer. Daniel pulled the overhanging brush to the side, which revealed a small entryway into what appeared to be a cave. Daniel squeezed inside it. The odor hung heavily.
The killer is here.
Daniel shined his flashlight ahead of him and found that the cave widened into a cavern. He listened carefully — no sounds.
He was hypervigilant as he began to stealthily make his way along the damp, rocky floor. While Daniel was nearly certain the killer was far ahead of him, he knew it was not a time to play the odds. He focused his light into every dark corner; he didn’t want to risk falling into a waiting trap.
As he moved ahead, numerous brown spiders crawled above him, at his feet and on the walls. Occasionally one would fall on him from the cave ceiling, and some would find their way onto his pant legs. He brushed them off and kept on. Spiders were the least of his worries.
All went well for a short time, and then the cavern abruptly narrowed. Daniel found himself crawling along the floor on his hands and knees, and then on his stomach — like a snake crawling on the ground. Daniel had never been one to be claustrophobic, but the fear of being trapped in the bowels of the Earth began to overwhelm him. His dream when he was on Mount Terevaka rose up to haunt him. He also realized that the farther into the passageway he went, the less likely he would be able to back out.
It was forward or nothing.
He felt pressure from the rocky walls of the cave on his chest and upper back. The sharp points began to dig into his skin. He felt trickles of blood rolling down his side. He couldn’t breathe.
Keep moving.
After scraping, inch by inch, along the floor of the cave for an interminable period of time, the space began to widen, and he was once again able to move to his hands and knees.
Soon Daniel stood again and walked along the cavern floor. After another hour or so he began to catch a hint of light from the far distance.
Does the killer have a flashlight?
No doubt the murderer would have some sort of weapon, and Daniel readied himself for a confrontation. Daniel was the best in his class at the police academy in hand-to-hand fighting, and, whether his opponent had a knife, a spear — whatever — he was ready.
To his surprise, as he approached the source of the light, the cavern again narrowed to a small crawl space, and Daniel realized that the light was the exit to the cave. Like the entrance, it was covered from the outside with brush.
Beyond the brush, it seemed to be daylight.
How could this be?
He slowly pulled himself out of the cave into the light of midday, blinded at first. He felt disoriented and lost, and before he could regain his vision he had wandered a good way from the cave entrance.
Where am I?
It was then that he heard the distinct wash of waves upon the shoreline, and farther away a group of women singing in Rapanui. He could understand the words, but the dialect was different from what Tiare had taught him.
Daniel caught his breath as he moved closer and discovered the women were all topless! What . . . what is going on?
Suddenly the singing stopped, and the women began to scream and point their fingers at him. Without warning the all-too-familiar stench almost overwhelmed him.
Then Daniel felt a sharp thud on the back of his head.
And everything went black.
Book Two
Chapter 1
Daniel had a throbbing headache as he began to come to, the bright sun blurring his vision. When his eyesight finally came into focus, he was certain he must have died; an angel from heaven, wearing a lei of white flowers around her neck, was looking curiously upon him.
Daniel tried to move but discovered he was on his back, staked to the ground, stripped naked. A large crowd gathered around him, men wearing loincloths and the women knee-length skirts.
The angel seemed unafraid, keeping her face close to his. Then she spoke in Rapanui, “Look. He’s coming around!”
Am I dreaming? Daniel questioned himself. No one could be that beautiful.
Suddenly she was shoved to the side with a shriek, and her face was replaced with that of a scowling, heavily tattooed man. He appeared to be in his thirties, and his tattooed face looked like a skull.
Daniel thought with a start: It’s him . . . the stench . . . that awful, evil, stench . . .
“How dare you look that way at the daughter of the ‘ariki mau!” the tattooed man said, almost screaming. He pulled his arm high into the air and backhanded Daniel in the face, jerking his head to the side.
That blow was real, Daniel realized as his head swam and his face burned with pain. This is no dream. But how?
The man pulled out a sharpened piece of what appeared to be obsidian, held it to Daniel’s neck and said, “I will kill you now, intruder.”
“Stop!” a deeply resonant voice boomed from behind the crowd. As they parted, a stout, middle-aged man stepped forward. He wore a white feather headdress and from his neck hung carved wooden ornaments, which jingled as he walked. Walking behind him was a tall man with a smaller headdress.
“Hotu Iti!” the tattooed man exclaimed. “I was about to come and tell you about this man.”
“Atamu, I’m sure you were,” he said with a look of disbelief on his face.
With more than a hint of sarcasm, Atamu said, “O great ‘ariki mau, this man wandered into ‘Anakena and was about to attack a group of women. Your daughter was with them. He —”
“Father?” the beautiful angel interrupted.
Hotu Iti looked with love at the young woman. “Yes, Mahina, my daughter?”
“The man did not try to hurt us. He was only walking toward us when Atamu came up from behind and hit him with a rock.”
Atamu glared angrily at her. “I was worried about your safety, so I did what any warrior would do. I protected you.” He looked back at the ‘ariki mau. “The stranger wore very odd clothes that we have removed and burned. And this was in his pants.” He produced the pocket flashlight. “See what happens when you press your finger on this place.”
Hotu Iti pushed down on the spot and with a click the light came on.
An audible gasp went up from the crowd as they at first jumped away, then all moved in for a closer look.
He pressed it again and the light went out.
Once again they gasped.
Hotu Iti handed the flashlight to the man following behind him. “Paoa, as my shaman, I need to know if this is magic.”
Paoa held the flashlight, turned it over and over, and answered, “O great ‘ariki mau, I don’t believe this is magic. We have seen many unusual things since the outsiders have visited us, and I feel certain this can be explained.”
“I see,” Hotu Iti replied. He knelt down and looked at Daniel.
To Daniel’s surprise, the ‘ariki mau had a warm smile on his face. “Now, young man, if you can understand me, what is your name?”
“Daniel.”
“Dan-iel? That’s an odd name. How did you get on our island?”
Daniel thought carefully. What do I tell him?
“Yes?” the ‘ariki mau questioned.
Daniel explained, “I came on a boat from a land far, far away. I became lost and drifted at sea. My boat sank far from shore and I swam here —”
Atamu interrupted, “You are lying. Your clothes were not wet when we found you.”
Daniel insisted, “That’s because I came ashore off to the west. I had been walking for a while and my clothes had dried.”
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br /> Atamu exclaimed, “You lie even more!” He glared at Daniel. “Your accent is strange, and you know our tongue. How?”
“All languages in these seas are similar. I was taught —”
Atamu shook his head and growled at Daniel, “Say no more, intruder.” He turned to Hotu Iti. “I want to kill him. He should not be here. I believe he is a spy trained in our language, sent from across the sea.” He brandished his obsidian knife.
Hotu Iti looked at the crowd gathered and declared, “Dan-iel will not be killed. He looks strong and healthy and could be a worthy addition to our Miru clan. Daniel, are you willing to work and earn your keep?”
“I am.”
“Very well, then,” Hotu Iti said. He looked over at Atamu. “Remove him from these restraints.”
Atamu sneered and muttered, “As you say, O great ‘ariki mau.”
While Atamu was bent over untying Daniel, under the murmur of the crowd Atamu whispered, “Dan-iel, I will kill you the first chance I get.”
Daniel grabbed his wrist with a vise-like grip and said under his breath, “I’d like to see you try.”
Atamu jerked his wrist free and walked away to join a band of warriors. He, along with them, glared as Daniel stood. Grumbling, the group marched away, their spears with obsidian points clutched in their hands.
Daniel looked closely at their weapons. They were exactly like the one that had pierced Tiare.
Hotu Iti asked into the crowd, “Pakia? Are you here?”
A slender, elderly, white-haired man stepped forward, “I am,” he answered.
“Dan-iel needs a home,” Hotu Iti said, “and as one of the best fishermen of our Miru clan, would you be willing to let him stay with you and teach him your trade?”
Pakia said, “My wife, Uka, and I would be happy to have him. As you know, our children and grandchildren now have their own hut, so we have extra space. But he will have to work hard.”
“I am sure he will.” Hotu Iti turned to his daughter. “Come now, Mahina, let us return home. Your mother and brothers will be worried about you.” He walked away with Mahina at his side.
