She held them up to stop him.
“You are cut,” he said, concern in his weary gray eyes. “I’ll get the ointment.”
She waved him off. “I’ll get it in a little bit.” She wasn’t bleeding any more. Just a little sore.
“Was it Leon?” he asked quietly. He meant her dream.
She gave another nod. “He was coming after me with his belt. He drew blood.”
“Good God.” He knelt to hold her.
“I couldn’t fight him off. And I saw Amy. She was reaching out to me. It was as if…she was begging me to rescue her.”
He stroked her hair with a gentle caress. “I’m so sorry. Is that why you went out alone?”
She nodded again and they both fell silent.
After a long moment, Parker murmured so softly, she almost missed it. “Would you like to resume the search for her?”
She snapped out of her daze and stared at him. “For Amy?”
“Yes.”
She knew what he meant. Look for her father. “I can’t do that, Parker.”
There was an odd look in his eye and she wondered if he was conjuring up some overpowering argument to change her mind.
“There was something else,” she said before he could voice it. “In my dream.”
“Tell me.”
“Drumbeats. Chanting. Like in that show tonight. The Night Marchers. They took Amy away so I couldn’t get to her.”
“I wish I’d never taken you to that luau.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came out a moment later with the first aid kit. He opened it and began applying salve on her hands, ignoring that she’d said she’d take care of it.
It felt good, but as he rubbed and put a few bandages on her, her mind went back to her dream.
It had been Leon who had taken Amy away. Not the Night Marchers. The luau didn’t change reality.
Her head began to clear and she remembered it all. “I was lost on a mountain somewhere. It was dark. I couldn’t see anything. As I groped along, feeling my way, I heard someone calling out to me. ‘Help me,’ he said. ‘He’s killing me.’ ‘I’m drowning.’” She sat straight up and glared at him. “It was him, Parker. The fire dancer. He was sending me a message. He was murdered.”
Parker stiffened. “You’re concluding that from a dream?”
“Not just a dream. An impression. A darn strong one.”
He studied her a moment, then gave his head a quick shake. “As good as your instincts have proven to be, we have to let the police handle this case. If it is murder, they’ll figure it out and find the killer.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“They’re laid back here, but they’re competent.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
Ignoring the question, he rose, returned the first aid kit to the bathroom and began to unbutton the navy tailored shirt he must have thrown on when she called. “I understand you were upset, but the next time you go out on your own in the middle of the night, I’d appreciate it if you let me know.” His tone held just a touch of a gentle chiding.
She scowled. “You were asleep.”
He moved to the closet. “I woke up a few minutes before you called. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
Guilt flooded her. He must have been worried. Damn. She was trying to be a decent wife to him, even with all her baggage. “Wait a minute. I did let you know. I sent you a text.”
“I didn’t get it.”
“I sent it.” She distinctly remembered pushing the button. Had she sent it to someone else by mistake? Maybe the servers were slow here. Maybe he just didn’t notice it. Not like him, but he was worried and it was the middle of the night.
Frustrated, she got up, crossed to the dresser and picked up Parker’s cell. She’d prove it to him. She brought up his messages and began scrolling through them. Her message was there. He just hadn’t seen it.
She opened her mouth to tell him when a text from someone named Detective Nakamura caught her eye. That sounded like an island name. Why would Parker be in contact with another detective here? Curiosity—and apprehension—getting the better of her, she opened it.
I will do my best to locate your target.
Target? What was that about? Next text.
Good news. Your target is here on the island.
Her heart began to pound and her throat went dry. She scrolled to the last text before hers. It had come in just before they left for the luau. Parker must have gotten it while she was getting dressed.
Confirmed. Edward Steele currently resides in Lahaina. That was a nearby town.
All at once, her whole world tilted off its axis. Her stomach lurched so hard, she thought she’d barf. Her knees buckled and she reached out for the dresser to steady herself, ignoring the sting it sent through her palm.
“What the hell is this, Parker?” Her voice was a low rumble in her chest she didn’t even recognize.
Parker came out of the closet in his stone washed jeans and bare, muscled chest, a sight that normally would have made her knees weak for a different reason. Just now, she was too angry for that.
He saw the phone in her hand and his face went white. “Did you find the text you sent?”
“Yeah. And this one, too.” She raised the phone and read, her voice trembling as much as her hand. “Confirmed. Edward Steele currently resides in Lahaina.” She glared at him in disbelief. “You’ve been looking for my father? After I told you not to?”
His mouth hardened. “You did not tell me not to look for your father.”
“Yes, hell I did.”
“No, Miranda. You didn’t.”
“Of course, I did. I told you in no uncertain terms that I can’t face him. That I don’t want to face him.”
“That’s why I’m handling it.”
“What?” He was twisting her words to suit his own purposes. “I don’t want you to handle it.”
He let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Sometimes, Miranda, you don’t know what’s good for you.”
“What?” she gasped again. That sounded like something Leon used to say to her. Suddenly all her fears and doubts and apprehensions about this marriage exploded and came rushing back to her with the force of the blowhole she’d seen tonight.
She turned to glare at the bed. She couldn’t sleep here. She couldn’t stay in this room. She couldn’t breathe.
She laid Parker’s phone back on the dresser and somehow her fingers found the car keys. Her mind reeling, she grasped them, spun on her heel and headed for the living room.
Parker followed her. “Where are you going?”
“Out of here.”
“Tell me where,” he demanded.
“I’ve got an investigation,” she sneered.
He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “Miranda, be reasonable.”
She pulled her messy hair out of her eyes and bared her teeth at him. “Oh no, I can’t be reasonable. I’m just a female, remember?”
His face turned to stone. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I did not.”
“I haven’t got time to argue about it.” She stepped past him.
“Don’t go out there.” He reached for her arm, a little too brusquely.
Was he going to hit her? Reflexes kicking in, she spun and jabbed at his biceps with her fist.
His reflexes were faster. Always were. He blocked the jab and threw her off balance. She stumbled a bit and he reached for her arm to keep her from falling over.
She wrenched out of his grip. “Leave me alone, dammit.”
“Don’t go,” he repeated, anger flashing on his face.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Fury tightened his jaw, made his eyes almost black. She’d never seen him so mad. “I thought our marriage would end this reoccurring pattern.”
How dare he? “Must be in my genes,” she snarled.
He reached for her again. “When are you going to sto
p running away and face your problems, Miranda?”
That was a good one. She pulled out of his grasp again, turned and glared at him. “I’m facing this one. I never thought this marriage would work out and it looks like I was right.”
And with that she spun, yanked the front door open and left, slamming it behind her.
###
Parker stood staring at the door, its slam ringing in his ears.
Stubborn, impetuous, irascible woman.
How could she be so talented and still so blind at times? He ran his hands through his hair and sank down onto the couch. It was no good going after her. Not now. That would only prolong the fight. He’d have to give her time to calm down. To think reasonably.
He stared out through the glass doors at the star-filled sky, the inky, undulating ocean beneath it.
She’d said he could read her mind. Usually he could see through her, but he hadn’t this time. He should have realized how strongly she would feel about his attempt to contact her father. But, dammit, she wasn’t supposed to know about it.
He rose, moved to the wet bar and made himself a Bacardi on the rocks.
Then he plodded back into the bedroom and picked up his cell phone. He thumbed to her message and winced. He should have believed her when she said she’d texted him. Then this argument wouldn’t have happened. He scrolled to Ryo Nakamura’s message and smiled despite the pain in his heart.
His former student had done well with the assignment he’d given him. He should. After serving in the Navy, he’d become one of the best trainees the Agency had produced. Parker was sorry when after two years of service with him, Ryo decided to return to his homeland. But he was proud his trainee had become the lead detective with the Lahaina police.
That would make him Balondo’s boss.
He set down the phone, finished his drink, made his way to the bed and sank down into it. He’d have to try to get a few hours’ sleep and then get to the station when it opened in the morning. He turned off the light, lay down and forced his eyes to shut.
If Miranda was determined to investigate Keola Hakumele’s death, and he was sure she was, he’d better pay a visit to Nakamura as soon as possible. She was also one of the best trainees he’d ever had and he couldn’t risk her finding out any more.
Chapter Nine
Telling herself the sting in her eyes was from the wind, Miranda pulled her hair away from her face as she sped down the empty Honoapiilani Highway in Parker’s rented BMW on her way to Lahaina.
She glanced at the GPS, into which she had programmed the police department address on the card Sergeant Balondo had given her. She’d be there any minute now.
She’d had a computer, but she’d never used fancy things like cell phones and GPS’s before she met Parker. The stray thought made her grunt.
Who cared how or when she’d learned to use a bunch of gadgets? Wiping something away on her cheek that must have been condensation from the moist air, she turned down the street indicated on the small screen.
She found the Lahaina police department across from the ocean—of course—just off Kaaahi Street. It was a snug one-story building with a plain tile roof and a whitewashed façade that had the look of a strip mall. Except for the emergency trucks and the boat parked in the open docks in the back. She guessed police and rescue here would need a boat.
She got out of the BMW, crossed the lawn under the shadows of decorative palm trees and strolled through the glass doors.
The reception area had that utilitarian look that all police stations shared. The floor was plain off-white tile that looked like it had been laid in the early seventies.
Against the back wall was a row of those hard cafeteria chairs with metal legs and a small, unadorned coffee table with magazines scattered over it. The walls were standard eggshell and looked like they could use a paint job.
A small alcove led to a door where, no doubt, the offices were. In opposite corners sat a couple of potted palms, which Miranda thought was overkill with all the foliage outside.
Through the rectangular hole that made up the front counter she could see the top of an officer’s head behind a magazine. She made her way there and found a large man behind a laminated desk.
She cleared her throat and the officer raised his gaze from his reading material. Its cover sported a surfboard and a well-endowed blonde in a bikini.
“May I help you?” he asked in a low, steel wool voice.
“Sergeant Balondo asked me to come by and give a statement.”
“I don’t believe the sergeant’s here right now.”
She might have known he’d gone home already. She tried to smile. “Can you check?”
The officer exhaled, as if annoyed she’d interrupted his busy schedule. “Name?”
“Parker. Mrs. Parker.” She wished she’d used her real name.
He picked up the phone and pressed a number. “There’s a Mrs. Parker here to see you, sir.”
“Will do.” He set down the phone. “The sergeant will be with you in a moment, ma’am.”
“Thanks.” She was in luck. He was still here.
“You can have a seat over there.” He nodded toward the chairs and picked up his magazine.
In the plush accommodations? But no sooner had she set her butt on the hard plastic than a side door opened, and Balondo appeared, a notebook under his arm. Under the neon lights with his straight hair a tad mussed and dark circles under his dark eyes, he looked even grumpier and more suspicious. “I thought you said tomorrow, Mrs. Parker.”
And I’m happy to see you, too. Miranda got to her feet and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Balondo’s squareish chest expanded a slow, weary sigh. “Come on back.”
He led her down a narrow hall, past a stingy cube bank to a small room. Inside he offered her a seat in another one of those ultra-comfy chairs, sank down across from her and took a pen out of his notepad.
Miranda rubbed her arms. She hadn’t been in an interrogation room since she’d first gotten to Atlanta.
“Cold, Mrs. Parker?”
“I’m fine. Go ahead.”
He began in a routine, sing-song tone. “You found the deceased at approximately 1:25 this morning, correct?”
“Yeah, I guess.” She hadn’t looked at the clock.
“May I ask what you were doing on the beach at that hour?”
“I was restless and needed a walk.”
He narrowed an eye at her. “Do you often get restless and go out in the wee hours of the morning?” Miranda couldn’t tell if that suspicious air was real or just habit.
She forced herself not to smirk. “Only when I’ve had too many Mai Tais.”
That earned her a dark scowl. “Where are you staying?”
“The Ashford-Grand.”
He nodded and made a note. “You ended up pretty far from the hotel.”
“Actually I ran part of the way.”
“So you’re a runner?” Now the suspicion in his tone seemed genuine.
“I keep in shape.” She blew out a breath. She was getting tired of this routine. She knew Balondo didn’t think she was a suspect. He’d just wanted to harass her for coming here at this hour. “I stopped when I saw the blowhole.”
“And?”
“I stood there watching it. It was, you know, majestic. Beautiful. One of the reasons why people come to West Maui, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“I stood there watching the water spew into the air for a while. That was when I saw the arm.”
Balondo’s face went somber. “Arm?”
“Bobbing around at the base of the blowhole. Like this.” She raised her arm above her head and tried to imitate what she’d seen. The action made her a little sick. “It was hard to make out in the dim light, but I thought it was human. I thought someone needed help. So I went to see.”
She went through the details again. She found the body in the water. The blowhole was about to suck both of them under.
She spotted the tail of the dancer’s shirt caught on the rock. She ripped it off. She dragged him in halves away from the danger. She attempted CPR.
When she finished, the sergeant sat back with a grim look that didn’t tell her anything. He laid his pencil down. “That’s very thorough. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Parker.” He started to get up.
“That’s it?”
“Have you told me everything?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve haven’t told you my impressions. I don’t think it was an accident.”
He sat back down and almost groaned with unconcealed impatience. “Mrs. Parker. Apparently you’re unaware that tourists fall into blowholes all the time. Just two weeks ago we had to airlift a woman out of that place.”
“But Keola wasn’t a tourist.”
“No, he was a temperamental artist. So you’re right. It might not have been an accident. It could’ve been suicide.”
“His head was ripped open.” She still had his blood on her hands, her clothes.
“People slip and fall on those lava rocks. He could have hit it on the jagged edge of the hole. He could have jumped from the cliff overhead.”
Rubbing her arms, she recalled the towering crags around the blowhole that she’d noticed when the emergency vehicles flashed their lights. Would be pretty hard to jump off and hit the blowhole in the dark. Okay there was no real evidence that pointed conclusively to murder, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
“I still think that young man was murdered, Sergeant. And I want to help find his killer.”
“You can help by staying out of our way.”
She ignored the jab. “Have you found anyone with a motive to kill him?”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Parker.” He rose from his chair.
She should’ve known better. It took time to build a relationship with the police. She found herself wishing for Officer Chambers, her buddy on the Atlanta force. She sat back and cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to pry, Sergeant. I just want to make my services available to you.”
Giving her a patronizing smile, he opened the door of the interrogation room. “I’ll let you know if we need them, Mrs. Parker. I’ll see you out now.”
Swallowing a curse, she got up and followed him.
Fire Dancer Page 5
