by Meryl Sawyer
As gently as possible, Garth repeated what Big Daddy had said and the story of the mokes lying in wait for Dana and Rob. "They stole the tapes," he concluded, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Now there's no proof, no leverage against the Coltranes."
"Can't you do something?" she asked, her expression as beseeching as her voice.
He tenderly put his hand on Vanessa's shoulder and gazed into her eyes. "Let me be dead honest with you. The best you can hope for is joint custody with Eric, and that means Big Daddy will see Jason half the time. If the Coltranes carry out the threat to smear you as an unfit mother, you may very well lose custody of your son entirely."
"I'm a good mother," she insisted. "They can't—"
"The Coltranes have the money—and the influence—to get a number of the servants at the ranch, as well as his sons, to lie about you."
The pain in her eyes told him the words registered, but she didn't say anything. Her gaze drifted to the plate-glass window; through it they could see Jason frolicking with Puni.
"There might be a way." Vanessa's emotion-charged voice startled him.
"Like what?" he asked gently, unwilling to give her false hope.
She shrugged, then braced her hands against her tanned thighs. The long nails bit into the soft flesh, digging deeper as she kept her head averted.
"Is there something I should know?" Garth asked, dead certain she was withholding important information. He reached over and covered one hand with his, lacing his fingers through hers and gently lifting. Beneath her hand were half-moon indentations made by her nails. He took her hand and held it in both of his. "Tell me everything. I have to know the truth or I can't help you."
She studied him for a moment, seeming to judge whether or not she could trust him. "I think there's a way to fight the Coltranes and keep custody of Jason." She cast a swift glance at the lanai where Puni and Jason were playing. "Eric Coltrane wouldn't have any claim on Jason if he isn't his father, would he?"
Vanessa was grasping at straws, he thought. Jason had her beautiful blue eyes and platinum hair, but he had the Coltranes' square jaw and cleft chin.
"It won't work. The Coltranes' attorney will insist on a paternity test."
"Are those tests reliable?"
"If they're done properly in a good lab, paternity tests are accurate. I've had them done on occasion."
She smiled—grinned, actually—sending his heart into one long free-fall. What was going on here?
"That's what I was hoping, Garth. A paternity test will prove Eric isn't Jason's father."
23
Rob hung up the telephone, having just told Garth about the mokes and Big Daddy's visit. Across the room Dana was huddled on the sofa, her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms locked around her knees. Poor kid. With the tapes gone, she thought she'd let Vanessa down.
She hadn't been responsible. He'd gotten them into this mess. Shit! He should have anticipated the mokes coming after them. He'd been cocky, arrogant. Stupid. The shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted his thoughts and he watched Dana gracefully stride across the room to answer it.
"Hi, Gwen," she said, then paused to listen. "I came back early… Ah, well, my sister is divorcing Eric Coltrane."
Rob wondered why she'd volunteered this information. How close was Dana to Gwen? He didn't really like Gwen.
Dana listened for a minute, twisting the telephone cord between her fingers. "Really? Where'd you hear that?" The anxious note in her voice alerted him. "Rob Tagett was there… I did see a little of him."
He sank into a chair, his body still aching from the fight. So word had gotten back to Honolulu that he'd been with Dana at the Coltrane ranch. He wasn't surprised Gwen had gotten wind of it. The consummate politician, she would wonder what this meant for Dana's career.
"I suppose you're right," Dana said wearily, and Rob could just imagine the lecture she was getting from Gwen on how Dana's reputation would suffer if she spent time with him.
"You're kidding," Dana said, her eyes widening at whatever Gwen had just said. "Clements was only what? Forty-five?" She paused to listen. "Really? Just forty-one. That's too young to die of a heart attack, isn't it?… His poor wife and that darling little boy."
So Todd Clements was dead. Son of a bitch! Just went to prove you never knew. When your number was up, it was up. A damn shame, but this meant there'd be another opening on the superior court. Dana would get a second chance much sooner than anyone expected.
Rob wondered how Gwen really felt about Dana's name being on the list for superior court. Her father, Boss Sihida, was a force in political circles. He might try to get Gwen into Todd Clements' spot. Hell, Rob hoped not. The last thing Dana needed was to be pitted against a friend. In the islands it was hard enough to get women onto the bench. They didn't need to compete with each other.
Dana hung up, shaking her head. "Todd Clements died of a heart attack."
"That's too bad. He was a nice guy and a good judge."
"Gwen says I'm up for the vacancy. Big Daddy will do whatever he can to ruin it for me." She dropped onto the sofa beside him.
"Coltrane has power, but the governor's a tough cookie. He—"
"What if the blackmailer goes to the governor?"
"Without proof, it's just gossip." He studied her for a moment, the sunlight playing softly across her face. "How important is being a judge?"
She hesitated, then responded, "Careerwise, I want it more than anything. I always have—even when I was in law school. The day I was appointed to the municipal court was the happiest day of my life."
He nodded, remembering that was the night he'd met her. The DA had thrown a party to celebrate Dana's appointment. She'd been radiant. Her vitality, her energy had drawn him to her. Her intelligence had captivated him. From that night on, no other woman could compare.
He'd blown it with the tapes, but maybe he could make it up to Dana. "Your career's in jeopardy as long as the blackmailer is around. It can't be Big Daddy or he would have threatened you with it. Let's talk about your other enemies again. I'm still suspicious of Judge Binkley."
"Davis Binkley hates me," she admitted. "You know he deliberately assigned me the Tenaka case the first week I was on the court."
Rob kept his mouth shut; the Tenaka case would always be a sore point between them. The superior court should have heard the child molester's case, but they dodged it, claiming their schedules were overloaded. It was too controversial for the muni court's presiding judge to handle, so Binkley passed it off to the rookie, Dana.
"He assigns me the worst cases, hoping I'll goof."
"So far, you've outsmarted him. Your decisions haven't been appealed. That's why you're up for the superior court."
"Judge Binkley has made no secret of how much he dislikes me. He even persuaded a friend's son to run for my seat on the municipal bench next year." She shook her head thoughtfully. "I keep remembering the blackmailer's message: Get out of Hawaii. There's nothing Binkley would like better. But how could he possibly know about my past?"
Rob didn't have an answer.
"There are several deputy DAs who can't stand me."
"Professional jealousy," Rob said. Dana's star had risen rapidly, eclipsing others who'd been around longer. He remembered the feeling from his days on the force when he'd shot ahead of many veteran officers. Meteoric rises made for spectacular crashes back to earth. Aw, hell, that wasn't going to happen to Dana, was it?
"This is a long shot, but I inherited my secretary, Anita, along with the office. She'd been Judge Gimble's secretary for years, and she adored him, probably because he put up with her sloppy work. I've written her up twice."
Rob knew the type. Protected by the civil-service system, they were just plain lazy. You could write them up a dozen times and still pay hell getting rid of them. "Has she done anything serious?"
"When she put my sentencing list into the computer, she somehow—after thirteen years on the job —'confused' the codes. So the jail
received the information and released the wrong prisoners and kept those I'd wanted released."
"Petty things. Just what a secretary might do for revenge. Blackmail seems out of character. Anyway, how would she know about your past? It all comes back to that, you know."
"You're right. That's why I keep wondering if Vanessa's old boyfriend, Slade Carter, or one of his friends has come to Hawaii. Slade was right behind us that night. He probably found Hank's body and put two and two together."
"Makes sense," Rob admitted, "but why would he want you out of Hawaii?"
Dana threw up both hands. "I'm clueless."
"Well, I have an idea. Where did you say all this happened? Texas?"
He knew she'd deliberately not told him where this had happened. With a desperation that came from a deep, secret corner of his soul, he wanted her to trust him. When had his feeling for her become an all-consuming passion? Startled by his own emotions, he looked away. He needed her to come to him, to want him so much that the past no longer mattered.
Last night he'd gotten his wish. She'd come to him and made love to him like no woman ever had. But with the light of day, Dana's fears had obviously returned.
The silence in the room thickened as she regarded him wordlessly, weighing her options. Finally she spoke. "Missouri. It happened in Gomper's Bend, Missouri. It's nothing more than a crook in the road near the Arkansas border."
Despite the pain from his split lip, he managed a smile. Knowing she trusted him triggered all his protective instincts. And something more. The divorce had sucked him dry emotionally, leaving him bitter and wary of relationships. Now he was ready to risk it all again.
"You know I'm crazy about you, don't you?" he asked and she nodded solemnly. "I'll do anything I can to help you. I want to go back there and nose around, but I need to know the whole truth about that night."
"Hank Rawlins was a no-good who was too lazy to work," Dana said. "He spent his time hunting and brewing rotgut whiskey, which they sold at the Road Kill Bar where Vanessa worked. We were trying to save money to go to California, so when Hank offered me five dollars to help him skin rabbits, I said yes." The pitch of her voice had gone up an octave, though her expression was calm. "He got me in the shed and… and…"
Rob gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head, cursing the bastard.
Dana drew back, staying in the circle of his arm. "Vanessa heard me crying hours after it was all over, and I was still crouched in that shed. She came to find me and Hank pounced on Vanessa." The threat of tears was in her voice now. "I huddled in the corner like… like some beaten dog. I couldn't move. All I could do was watch."
She shrugged out of his protective embrace. He wasn't surprised. When emotionally threatened, Dana retreated, carefully maintaining the distance she kept between herself and the world.
"Do you know how that makes me feel?" The words, quite loud now, exploded out of her with such vehemence that Rob almost flinched. "I could I have spared my sister the agony of that brute raping her—but I was a coward."
Coward. Coward. Coward. The word echoed through the room, triggering a suffocating memory that he'd rather forget. With it came empathy so powerful, he couldn't utter a word. Finally he managed to say, "You were young, and you'd been through a traumatic experience. It's understandable that fear paralyzed you."
"Well, I can't forgive myself. If I'd acted sooner…"
The psychological burden of this incident still weighed her down. Rob understood. Often forgiving your own weaknesses was more difficult than forgiving another person.
"Dana, let it go. Sometimes we have a second in which to act. If we don't the opportunity is gone— never to come again. Believe me, I know."
He put his arm around her, unsure of what to say. He recalled how he'd screwed up. And the devastating results.
"What do you mean?"
He didn't want to resurrect his past. He wanted her to see him as someone to lean on. Aw, hell, he wasn't perfect. Pretending he was had gotten him in trouble last time, but he wasn't going to make that mistake again. Dana meant too much to him.
"I resigned from the police force because I was a coward." He responded to her shocked expression with a curt nod. "That's right. I'd been touted as a hero, but I was a coward. Honey, you were just a little girl. No one would call you a coward."
"I don't believe you're a coward, not the way you went after those mokes."
"When that prostitute accused me of rape I should have brought it out into the open and fought it, but I didn't. I'd been the golden boy for so long that I thought things would work out. It's taken me a long time to admit the truth. You're the first person I've talked to about this. It hurts to have you know I was a coward, but it's done and nothing can change it."
"You were in a difficult position. You—"
"There are always excuses. I accept the truth and so should you."
Dana mulled over his words for a moment. "You want the truth… the whole truth?" Her tone reflected her pain and her tremendous strength of will. "Hank had raped Vanessa and was forcing her down again, when I summoned my courage and grabbed the rabbit-skinning knife off the hook." She looked Rob directly in the eye. "Hank didn't fall on the knife. I stabbed him in the back."
24
Dana stared out her bedroom window at the palms etched in deep shadows against the moonlit sky. The curtains fluttered in the breeze. Fragrant plumeria scented the darkness, mingling with the loamy, earthy smell of the tropics. Usually she loved nights like this when the full moon—a lovers' moon—cast its magic on Koko Head, but not tonight.
She missed Rob already. After she'd explained what really happened to Hank Rawlins, Rob had consoled her, insisting she'd had no choice. Then he'd left for the airport, determined to get to Gomper's Bend and find Slade Carter, Vanessa's old boyfriend.
Rawlins got what he deserved. You had no other choice.
Rob's words had been reassuring-—at the time. Now, though, alone in her bed, she had her doubts. How could she have killed another human being? She'd kept the memory of what she'd done locked away for years. She wondered how she had stepped up to the bench day after day and had the nerve to pass judgment on others.
How could she? No matter what her reasons, she had killed a man. She didn't deserve to be a judge.
The scene she'd blocked out for so many years still had the power to ruin her life. As the long-dead memories emerged, Dana relived that terror-filled night when she'd been fourteen.
Huddling in the corner of the filthy shed, immobilized by fear, she watched Hank assault Vanessa. Why did you scream? she asked herself. After Hank had attacked her he'd kept her locked in the shed for hours while he drank whiskey. If only she'd kept her mouth shut, Vanessa wouldn't have come to help her.
Vanessa's whimpering cries filled the shed. Though her young mind was barely functioning, Dana realized Hank intended to kill them. He'd told her that no one was ever going to find out what he'd done. She couldn't let him kill them.
"Mommie-e-e, help me!" cried Vanessa.
Her sister's plea echoed in Dana's brain—an incantation to the dead. Since their parents' deaths Vanessa had been so brave, being both mother and sister to Dana. But now Dana knew the truth. Vanessa had been afraid too. Her sister was just a girl in a woman's body.
For the first time Dana truly realized they had no one but themselves. She scanned the room, searching for something—anything—to use as a weapon. Then she'd spotted the rabbit knife.
Looking back over the span of twenty years, Dana realized she would have done the same thing all over again—only sooner. Justice. Sometimes it was a four-letter word. She truly believed Hank had gotten what he deserved. But she—and Vanessa—were still paying for his crime.
Rob had been right when he'd said they didn't trust men because they associated all men with Hank Rawlins. Dana closed her eyes, blocking out the moonlight, but not the wellspring of emotion she'd kept hidden for so many years. Yes, if it hap
pened all over again she'd grab the knife—before Hank got to Vanessa, before her sister suffered his brutal assault the way she had.
The shrill sound of a siren startled Dana and she sat bolt upright in bed, memories of the past still swirling through her brain. Shouts came from the street, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. Dana charged to the window and yanked back the curtain. An ambulance was next door.
"Oh, my God! Something's happened to Lillian."
It took her a few seconds to throw on a robe and dash outside. By that time the paramedics were bringing out a gurney. Red then white, red then white, red then white flashed the strobe light of the ambulance as the body was brought out, draped in a white sheet. Two police cars were parked nearby, bursts of static and dispatch calls punctuating the stillness.
"No, no!" Dana cried. She pulled back the sheet.
Lillian's face was an unnatural parchment color, yet peaceful, her lips curved into a suggestion of a smile.
"Oh, Lillian, no." Dana stared at the woman who'd loved her like a daughter. Something inside Dana broke, and a sob rose from her throat, a requiem of unparalleled sadness. She should have done more for Lillian, spent more time with her.
The EMT replaced the sheet and Dana said a silent farewell. A surge of guilt brought with it the weight of her loss, knowing she'd never see Lillian again. She'd never be able to share anything with her. How vividly she recalled the pride in the older woman's eyes when Dana spoke about one of her cases. A mother's pride. Yes, that's all Lillian ever had wanted to be—a loving mother.
From the shadows Dana saw Lillian's daughter, Fran, glaring at her. Normally she would have gone to console the woman, but Dana didn't trust her temper. She turned to Dr. Winston, who was standing nearby. "How did it happen?"
"Fran called to say her mother wasn't feeling well. I came right over. Just as I got here Lillian had a severe stroke," Dr. Winston replied. "No one could have saved Lillian. I found her pill case in the bathroom. It's been days since she'd taken her medication. Her blood pressure was in the stratosphere."
