by Meryl Sawyer
Rob? It couldn't be. She squinted against the sun pitched low in the sky, but the silhouette remained concealed by the shadows. He wouldn't be here, she assured herself. Her imagination was working overtime.
Ever since Gus had told her about the rape charges, her mind had been in turmoil. Rob was a rat—the king of rats—but he was being falsely accused. She wanted to help him and settle the score, so she wouldn't feel she owed him anything for finding out about Hank Rawlins, but she didn't know how.
Concentrate, she told herself as she realized everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to begin. The words came, but from where she'd never be able to say. They merely flowed from her—right from the heart.
"Lillian, we're all gathered here to honor you. I know one of your fondest wishes was to have grandchildren. I'm sorry you didn't have that joy, but you must realize you've brought happiness to more children and grandchildren than you'll ever know. By saving from extinction so many plants and flowers, you've given Hawaii's children—and the children of the world—a precious treasure. You made a difference in so many lives. Few people can make that claim."
She lifted the long lehua lei and stood on tiptoe to drape it over King Kamehameha's extended arm. Native to Hawaii's up-country, the lehua was one of the first trees to reestablish itself on lava fields after a volcano-eruption. Its flower, a red pom-pom with spikelike petals, had always been one of Lillian's favorites.
Facing the group again, Dana noticed that the shadow in the arcade had moved, retreating farther into the shadows. She couldn't possibly identify the person. Her part of the memorial service was over once she'd placed the lei, but she needed to say more.
"Lillian Hurley not only loved plants, she was the type of person who welcomed stray animals—or people. I know. When I moved next door to her, she befriended me, and despite our ages that friendship grew."
Dana paused to gather her thoughts. "Shortly before she died, Lillian expressed to me her fear of dying without anyone remembering that she'd lived and loved and had been a good mother. I know that was a silly thought. Just look at how many of us are here."
Not nearly as many as there should be, she thought silently, but then, the society was quite small. "I'm donating enough money for a special Lillian Hurley plot, where visitors can see rare flowers without having to trek up the slopes of some volcano or through impenetrable rain forest."
A spontaneous round of applause startled her. She'd almost forgotten the group around her. For some reason she was talking to the person across the garden, cloaked in the shadows. She sensed a kindred spirit, she thought, then realized Lillian's death, the hearing, Rob's betrayal—everything had happened so fast that she was reacting emotionally.
"Lillian worked so hard and loved everyone so much that I want to make certain her memory never dies," Dana continued. "I'll put a special plaque on a marker. It'll be engraved with Lillian's favorite quote. It's a line from G. K. Chesterton: 'The best way to love anything is as if it might be lost.'
"This plot will ensure that she's with us still. In the flowers she loved. In the breathtaking sunsets. In the sun's sparkle on Hawaii's azure sea." Dana heard the quaver in her own voice. "She'll be with us. Forever in our hearts."
She stepped back to let the director lead the group in prayer, tears dewing her lashes. In her blurred vision as she dropped her head to pray, she saw the man in the shadows turn and leave.
Exhausted, Dana entered her chambers the following morning. She'd been up all night, disturbed by Lillian's funeral and haunted by the image of a man standing at the back of the garden, silently giving her moral support. She kept telling herself that it was her imagination that made her believe it was Rob.
It's just guilt, she decided. Rob had helped her get Vanessa and Jason away from Big Daddy. Then he'd gone to Gomper's Bend and set her free. He was a heartless rat though. What about last night? Like a dying heartbeat his words echoed through her, bringing a sensation of unparalleled anguish and despair.
Still, she felt she owed him something. The only way to help Rob was risky. She'd just survived the judicial review, so what she was contemplating was pure insanity. If word got out she'd lose any chance she had of getting that appointment.
She waited until four-thirty, through the longest day of her life, before sneaking into the DA's office, praying no one would see her. Friday afternoons fell under the ukupau philosophy, which meant finish your job and take off the rest of the day. On Friday, people miraculously declared their work done in the early afternoon and left to get a head start on the weekend.
Even Al Homuku's secretary was gone when Dana slipped into the DA's office, but she could hear Al on the telephone. She wasn't surprised that he was still there. She'd spent several years as a prosecutor under him; Al didn't believe in ukupau.
She waited, her pulse pounding in her ears like the night marchers, until she heard Al hang up the telephone. She knocked lightly on his half-open door and he bellowed for her to come in.
Tan and fit, Al Homuku had a wealth of jet black hair and dark eyes that attested to his Hawaiian ancestry, but he always dressed as if he'd just stepped onto the Via Venetto. He adored Italian suits and long-sleeved shirts with French cuffs, when most of the men in the islands wore short-sleeved shirts and took off their jackets the second they had a chance.
Today the fiftyish prosecutor was dressed in a dove gray suit and a tie of vibrant cranberry with a matching handkerchief flaring out of the pocket. He didn't have to pull his feet out from under the desk for Dana to know he was wearing the same scuffed black wing tips he'd had for years. As stylish as he was, as expensive as his suits were, Al had only two old pairs of shoes—black and brown.
No one had ever figured out why Al splurged on Italian suits and ties worth a week's wages yet never bought new shoes. He was an odd duck, but a fair man. Dana had enjoyed working for him. She was counting on their past relationship and Al's unbridled ambition to become attorney general.
"Dana." Al rose to his feet. "Hey, this is a surprise. Have a seat."
Dana dropped into the well-worn chair opposite his desk the way she had countless times when she'd been an assistant DA and had come to his office to discuss a case. Now, though, she was frightened.
Al took his seat again, grinning at her. "You don't have to thank me. As soon as I saw Binkley's letter of inquiry, I got the petition going. The rest was easy. People just passed it around."
"I really appreciate it," Dana managed to say. Knowing that Al had initiated the petition made this even harder. "Thank you so much."
"You're judge material. No question about it. And I found you right here in this office. I wasn't about to let that son of a bitch Binkley sabotage your career."
"If there's ever anything I can do for you—"
"I'm planning on running for attorney general. I'm counting on your vote."
"Of course." She hesitated, unsure of what to say next. After an embarrassingly long pause she said, "I need to ask you something."
Al's grin broadened. "Shoot."
"I understand your office is preparing to charge Rob Tagett with the Panama Jack's rapes. I want to know what evidence you have."
His smile collapsed and became a grim line that complemented his furrowed brow. He stared at her for a full second before rising, coming around the desk, and hitching one leg over the top so he was half-sitting, facing her.
"I'm going to pretend you never said that. You have a fantastic career ahead of you; don't ruin it with an obstruction of justice charge. You know it's unethical for a judge to interfere with the prosecution of any case. If anyone found out you'd come to me, you'd never get to superior court."
She stared at his scuffed shoe, which was swinging back and forth, a clear indication of how upset Al was. "I've weighed the consequences." She met his eyes. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I had any choice."
"Jesus! What has that bastard Tagett got? A secret love potion? Women fall all over him." Al shook his head. "He'l
l be the kiss of death for your career."
She couldn't blame him for being angry. This went against every judicial ethic she held so dear, but somehow rules didn't matter anymore. She could still hear Rob telling her how he lost his son the first time. She couldn't let it happen again.
She played her ace. "I'm here because I want to help you." Al's eyes widened in utter disbelief. Before he could say anything she rushed on. "I know you want to be attorney general. This case will do it—if you have the right man."
"We have proof," Al said, but he didn't sound completely certain.
"I know for a fact Rob is innocent and I can prove it." She let her words settle in, acknowledging that sometimes loving someone meant you had to bluff. Or even lie. "If you tell me what evidence you have, I can help you. But if you muff this case you won't be moving across the street to the state house."
32
"Love you." Ellen kissed Zach on the cheek and hugged him.
Zach stoically accepted her kiss like a typical teenage boy. "Bye, Mom."
Ellen's blue eyes drifted over Rob as she spoke to her son. "Take care. Call me if you need me."
"We won't need you, Mom. Dad's taking me to counseling on Monday. I'll be fine. You'll see."
If his situation hadn't been so pathetic, Rob might have smiled. Telling Zach his problems had brought them closer. They had two whole days to spend together. After that, who knew? The future shimmered like a mirage, out of focus, out of reach.
"I've got to go," Ellen said as they called her flight. She hurried away, then turned back, tears in her eyes.
"Aw, cripes," Zach mumbled. "She always cries."
"Umm-hmm." Rob didn't add that this was how Ellen manipulated men. He didn't have to; Zach was already learning.
Ellen disappeared down the Jetway, and Rob couldn't help comparing her to Dana. Had he ever really been in love with Ellen? Okay, sure, he'd married her and told himself he loved her. Now that he'd met Dana he couldn't imagine loving any other woman.
"So do we hit the beach, or what?" Zach asked.
He ruffled his son's hair, silently blessing Ellen for giving him Zach. She might not have stood by him, but Zach was remarkably loyal.
"Your choice," Rob said. "What do you want to do?"
"Is it too expensive to fly over to Kauai and see Grandma? I haven't seen her in years. She always writes and sends me stuff."
"Great idea. Let's give her a call. We don't want to get there and find she's out playing bridge or something."
Rob's mother was home, and they flew to the garden isle. Zach hadn't been there since he was a child, but he'd seen Jurassic Park and knew it had been filmed there. He insisted on renting a Jeep and dragging his father and grandmother through the rain forest looking for a T-Rex.
It was late Saturday night—early Sunday morning, actually—by the time they caught a return flight and drove home. The message light on his machine was flashing but Rob sent Zach to bed before picking up his messages. It had been such a wonderful day. He didn't want to spoil it with more bad news.
The first message was from the editor-in-chief at the Honolulu Sun, wanting to know when he could expect Rob's next article. The next message was from Garth.
"Just thought you'd want, to know. Dana's been appointed to the superior court. We're having a cocktail party tomorrow night to celebrate. Come over about six and bring Zach."
"I'm not going to know anyone," Zach said for the third time as they pulled up to Garth's home on Honolulu's Gold Coast.
"I want you to meet my friends." Rob tried to reassure him even though he was more than a little amazed at the number of cars lining the street.
They walked through the open gates that towered above their heads into a huge courtyard filled with majestic date palms and tropical plants. In the center was a work of modern art, a fountain that sent a sheet of water ten feet wide down a slab of polished marble, where it disappeared into a bed of orchids without letting a drop of water splash on the plants.
"Wow!" Zach said. "Get a load of this place."
"It belongs to the best lawyer in the islands. His parents were killed in an automobile crash and Garth was left penniless—at eighteen. Everything he has, he's earned himself."
Zach nodded, but Rob doubted he was impressed. He'd deliberately not mentioned Garth's handicap. He wanted his son to realize there were worse things in the world than your parents divorcing. And you could overcome them.
There wasn't any need to ring the bell; the unusually tall door, which seemed to reach the classic Japanese roof of sky blue ceramic tiles, was open. The chatter from inside was accompanied by the typically Hawaiian sound of a slack-key guitar playing an island ballad. Rob glanced around, recognizing most people.
He spotted Al Homuku standing in the corner of the vast, marble-floored living room sipping a drink. Their eyes met, and Rob shot him a look that could back down a pit bull, then turned to find Dana, but he didn't see her.
"Let's go out to the pool," Rob told Zach, and they maneuvered through the crowd to the wide terrace that faced the bay.
Floating candles studded the black-bottom pool, glowing in the dark water like stars in the night sky. At the far end of the pool, where the beach began, was a bar. Rob was half-tempted to order a Stoli straight up, except that he had his son with him and he was driving. Suddenly, something clasped his knees.
"Rob! Rob!" It was Jason Coltrane, his little arms outstretched to be picked up. With a pang of nostalgia he remembered Zach asking to be held in just the same way.
"Howdy, partner." Rob hoisted Jason to his hip. "This is my son, Zach."
Jason stared at Zach. "What's wrong with your hair? Why's it pink?"
"I like it like that." Zach's chin jutted out, proving he'd inherited more than his father's eyes.
Jason missed the sarcasm. "Oh, cool. Like a Power Ranger."
Rob wasn't aware of any Power Ranger with maroon hair, but then he wasn't up on kindergarten idols these days. Garth wheeled up just in time to save the conversation.
"Hey, Rob. Glad you could come." Garth spun his chair around to face Zach. "You must be Zach. I'm Garth Bradford."
Zach's jaw hit his shoelaces as they shook hands. "Hi."
"Garth's my calabash cousin," Jason proudly announced.
"Your what?" Zach asked.
"It's an old Hawaiian custom to call friends who are as close as family 'calabash cousins.' In olden days families used to eat from the same calabash gourd. That's where it started," Rob said.
"Hi." Vanessa Coltrane appeared and put her hand on Garth's shoulder, curling her fingers into the fabric of the shirt he wore in a way that said they were more than "cousins."
Rob almost laughed at Zach's astonished expression. He doubted Zach had met many women as beautiful as Vanessa. Most certainly he had never met anyone like Garth.
"Wanna see my parrot?" Jason asked Zach, clearly not put off by his pink hair or mesmerized expression. "He'll sue your ass."
"A-a-ah, sure," Zach answered, and Jason hopped down and led him away.
Rob opened his mouth to ask where Dana was, when a troop from the public defender's office descended on Garth. Obviously they were fresh out of law school and hadn't been disillusioned by defending drug addicts, child molesters, and repeat offenders who cycled through the system like bad pennies. The attorneys marked time in the PD's office until their talons were sharp enough to venture out on their own.
He wandered across the pool area to the beach. The sun was haloed by a warm mist as it floated on the horizon, casting its last light on the sea. He waited, silently watching until the sun disappeared and the mist rose, touching the emerging stars and screening them like a honeycomb veil. How often had he watched a sunset and taken it for granted?
No more. Facing prison was a sobering thought. The sunrises and sunsets he took for granted—along with much of his life—would be history if he didn't win this fight. Frustrated, he admitted there wasn't a damn thing he could do until he kn
ew what evidence they had.
"Rob." He spun around and found Vanessa walking up to him. "I want to thank you again for all you did to help us. If I can ever—"
"It was nothing. Simple, really. I just found out the truth."
"It changed our lives—mine and Dana's." She put a soft hand on his shoulder, and he had yet another taste of Vanessa's charm, but this time it was a friendly gesture, not a seductive one. "Garth and I met with Big Daddy last night."
Rob tensed; he believed Coltrane was behind his troubles. He had tried to sabotage Dana and now he was after him.
"Big Daddy is really upset. He's terrified of losing Jason forever. He's willing to do whatever we ask. We've worked out an arrangement for supervised visitations so he can see Jason."
"Really? Why? Coltrane's a creep."
"Oh, Rob. He's so pathetic, so beaten." She inhaled sharply, holding raw emotion in check. "Still, he's Jason's father. Garth and I discussed it. I have no right to keep them apart. When Jason's old enough we're going to tell him the truth. Then he can decide for himself about seeing his father. Until then Big Daddy's on his best behavior. He doesn't want to chance losing Jason."
"You're doing the right thing," Rob conceded, but he thought Garth would make a better father. With luck, his relationship with Vanessa would work out.
One of the caterers needed Vanessa, and she disappeared, leaving Rob to wonder. If Coltrane wasn't behind his troubles, who was? He'd tracked down the mokes and beat the crap out of them. He had a couple of cuts and a lot of bruises, but the mokes had talked. They claimed Big Daddy had sent them after the tapes. Maybe their theft of the tapes had nothing to do with the blackmail scheme or his own problems. Rob stood, staring out to sea, pondering the situation, until he lost track of time.
