“You’re tough.” He nodded toward Nica’s brother. “I don’t feel so bad anymore.”
“You will in the morning.”
He laughed as though it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
“That was good. Quick and snappy.”
“ ‘Brevity is the soul of wit.’ ” The instant rejoinder sent a quiver of familiarity. She’d used that phrase before. Not just in conversation, but what? Instruction?
Sam’s mood shifted from amused to melancholy. He looked ready to beg, but Cameron finished his call and turned.
“Ready?”
Flanked by pathetic and pathological, she almost laughed. “For what?”
“I’m parked right over there.” He splayed his fingers toward someplace behind her.
“Saves you wandering around.”
He hung his thumbs from his cargo shorts. “Let me put it this way; I’m half owner of the house Nica calls home. I have eviction power.”
“One for and one against.”
His eyes took on the deepest ocean hue, the part where chance of survival would be negligible. “I’m persuasive.”
A brown gecko skittered across the path as the sky grayed around them, silhouetting a fringe of coconut palms. Her beautiful evening was drawing to a close and had been anything but peaceful. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish. You can ask all the questions you want, but I can’t tell you anything more than I told Nica. I wish I could.” She countered the plaintive note with a square-shouldered pose that said back off. She had enough to deal with.
Cameron Pierce was spectacularly slow on the uptake. He motioned toward his truck, and this time she turned enough to see a black Tacoma parked with the bed toward them, sea turtle decals on the rear window. Hardly a symbol of malevolence, but still.
She didn’t recognize the vehicle, but that meant nothing; she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Even without her vague, sustained anxiety, common sense would keep her from accepting the ride. She shook her head.
“If I were a predator, I wouldn’t have wasted time arguing.”
“Maybe I know karate.”
“Maybe you don’t.”
He didn’t seem the predator type, but her senses were raw, her mind washed clean of any recollection that might identify him. She had nothing but her impressions to go by.
Sam burped discreetly, watching without interfering. While he didn’t mind begging, she must not be worth fighting for. Maybe he’d assessed his chances in a clash with Cameron Pierce as nil. Nica’s brother exuded a confidence one either respected or resented, but couldn’t ignore.
So he took her by surprise when he heaved a sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll walk you back to Nica’s.” She hadn’t expected a concession from the conqueror god with the clipped beard and haughty countenance. But then, how accurate were her perceptions? Maybe Sam was the psychopath and Cameron—
“Walk, amble, before it gets dark… .” He swept his hand in the direction they should go.
By whatever means her mind currently operated, she decided to accept his graceless offer. If they stayed in the open, where she had room to run and scre—
She felt the vibration in her throat, chords stretched, tissue inflamed. Her fingers went to her throat. Something flickered like a minnow gleaming for a second in a sunlit stream. Another flick and it was gone. But it had been there and left a residue of fear.
She had expected to remember something by now, but there’d been nothing until Nica’s brother triggered, if not memories, at least the sensation of memory. And even though the sensation seemed closest to fear, she clung to it—nature abhorring a vacuum. For that reason more than anything else, she got up and started back the way she’d come.
Cameron fell into step, slowing when they neared his truck, then picking it up when she stalked past. “Let me get this straight,” he said.
“You don’t know who you are or how you got here.”
“Yet.”
“You have no ID, no money, nothing but a swelling on the brain.”
“Are you saying I have a big head?”
He slid her a sidelong glance, acknowledging her attempt at humor without finding it humorous. Sam was a better audience. Again a sensation of déja` vu.
“You have no idea what happened?”
A pang squeezed her. “I must have had an accident.”
“But you haven’t reported it.”
How could she explain her unease without raising his suspicions?
“Getting lost isn’t a crime.”
“And yet no one’s reported you missing.”
She stopped. “How do you know?”
“I asked.”
Her jaw fell slack. “You went to the police?”
His eyes turned flinty. “Is that a problem?”
Was it? She didn’t know. She could have gone to the authorities herself, but hadn’t. Nica had respected that. Her brother must not be so inclined. “My situation is not your business.”
“Your situation involves my sister.”
And that obviously gave him carte blanche.
“I asked the local authorities if there’d been any recent missingperson reports.”
And there hadn’t. She didn’t know how to feel about that. “You told them about me?”
“Nica asked me not to.”
She started walking again. Nica at least had sway with him, and he was possibly not as unreasonable as he seemed. “No report,” she mused. “Then there must be no one here to miss me.”
“I wouldn’t lay long odds on that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not the type to travel alone.”
She turned. “And you would know this because …”
“It’s my job.”
“You’re a fortune-teller?”
The corners of his mouth quirked. “I investigate fraud.”
“What kind?”
“Insurance. Criminal schemes. False claims.”
“You think I’m faking?”
“It’s possible.”
Honest. Direct. Irritating. Who could ask for anything more?
“And how would I file a claim? What name would I use?” Her steps had quickened with her agitation. “What social security number?”
“You’ve considered the angles.”
She shook her head. “You’re like a hypochondriac physician. You see fraud in every face. But believe me, I’d rather know—” Would she? What if she’d blocked her memories because they were too painful, or too frightening? And why was she trying to explain? He was a man who uncloaked liars for a living.
“What are you after? Drugs?”
Something to kill the headache would be welcome.
“Nica doesn’t have—”
“I don’t use drugs.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I … know.” She felt it. His question insulted her. There was no lick of desire, no craving. Her body knew what her mind had forgotten.
“You think Nica’s an easy mark?”
“What?”
“Who told you to go there?”
Nica must have told him what happened. If he didn’t believe his sister, what explanation would convince him? She shut her mouth and walked in silence a few moments before glancing sideways. “Why don’t you just save us both the hassle and tell me what you want.”
And if he wanted her out? She felt suddenly weary. She’d spent one night at Nica’s recuperating. For that she was thankful. But where would she go? Who else would show the kindness his sister had by not forcing her into actions that felt wrong—like getting help?
Cameron said, “I’ll tell you what I don’t want; Nica hurt. Or taken advantage of, or made a fool of.”
“You don’t have much faith in her.”
He hadn’t expected that, and by his frown didn’t like it. But he also didn’t refute it.
She considered the woman whose face was even now the first coherent memory she could conjure up—
heart shaped, with a perfect point to her chin that must similarly give her brother’s beard that protruding hauteur. Her eyes, in direct contrast to his, held a sincerity that, to Jade’s traumatized mind, showed compassion and generosity. Maybe to Cameron it looked weak or gullible. Maybe it was.
“I appreciate everything Nica’s done. And as soon as I remember, when I know anything about who I am …” She didn’t know how to finish. I’ll go back to my life? I’ll finish my vacation? I’ll know what I was doing in the mountains of Kauai…?
In the deepening twilight, she kicked a bone-white lump of surftossed coral at the edge of the narrow highway, feeling as out of place as it looked on the pavement. They paused long enough to note a lack of traffic either way, then crossed.
“You remember nothing?” he prodded again.
Only the glimpses he’d provoked. “It’s pretty much a void.”
“And you’ve done nothing about it.”
“It’s only been a day. I’m sure the bump will heal.” Right. No problem. She could wake tomorrow with everything restored.
“And if it doesn’t heal?”
How could she answer that? With what could she predict a future when her past was wiped clean. Who would she call? Where would she go?
“You’ll hide at Nica’s until you’re old and gray?”
She frowned. “Thank you for the grim prognosis.”
“I don’t pretend to understand your injury.”
“Just my motives and character.”
He sighed. “There are things you don’t know.”
She spread her hands. “Revelation.”
They entered the dusky yard lit with tiki-style lanterns that shed a benevolent glow on the fronds and foliage of Nica’s garden and the pathways in between. While the yards around hers were mostly mosslike lawns, Nica’s dense, blooming plants created a heady aroma.
Cameron frowned. “Nica is …” But then he caught sight of her seated on a stone bench. Instantly his manner changed. “What’s wrong, Nica?”
She looked down at her hands. “I found it in the street.”
FOUR
Cameron turned to the woman called Jade. Though he’d alluded to Nica’s temperament, he didn’t want to play it out in front of a stranger. He hadn’t learned enough on the walk back to make any kind of decision about her, so he said, “Go ahead in. We’ll talk more later.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll go to bed. My head is splitting.” The furrow in her brow punctuated the point.
That meant another night for her at Nica’s, but he hadn’t decided against that so he nodded, then squatted down beside his sister. The chick was hardly into its feathers. No blood. No telling what had ended its brief existence. He sighed. Telling her it was just a fowl, one of the multitudes that ran wild all over the island and died every day, would not ease her sorrow over this one.
She could get through it without him. He’d made sure of that before moving to the mainland. This was a tiny prick compared to some of the wounds she’d borne. Nica had absorbed more grief than anyone he knew, and she kept opening herself for more.
But he was there now, and his mode was to fix. “You want me to bury it?”
She shook her head.
“Sure?”
She looked up, her face illuminated by the flames. “I didn’t ask you here to interrogate her.”
“I know that.”
“Does she?”
He glanced at the closed bamboo screen. “Hard to say what she knows, isn’t it.”
“Kai.” She said his name like a sigh.
She must have known he wouldn’t buy right in. Whether she’d thought it through or not, she’d called him for counterbalance. Why had she thought she needed help this time and not the others? “I don’t like it.”
Nica drew a hand spade from the box at the end of the bench and stood. “What don’t you like?”
“Amnesia.” He spread his hands. “It’s too convenient. Too easy an alibi.”
She stared. “Alibi?”
He hadn’t sounded harsh, but there was no tone gentle enough if Nica didn’t want to hear something. Jade had made an impression on her, and nothing short of showing her the smoking gun would shake her faith in another complete stranger who’d “happened” to find her door. He shook his head. “You don’t need this.”
“It’s not about what I need.” Her eyes were large and tender. “It never is.”
“You have choices, Nica. Things don’t have to just happen.”
“But they do.” She carried the chick to the base of an oleander, dropped to her knees and hollowed the earth.
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. There was no point arguing. Where Nica was concerned, something constantly conspired. She was a vortex for heartbreak, and try as he might he could not find a way to stop it. Not that she ever asked him to. She poured herself out for the countless unfortunates who came to her. He suspected an organized pipeline: Broke, desperate, dying? See Monica Pierce. She never thought to guard her heart, or maybe she didn’t know how. They took what she had to give and left her shattered.
She laid the chick in the ground. “I hoped you could help her.”
Again he considered how unusual it was for her to include him when she knew how he felt about her openness to strangers. “How?”
She spread the red earth over the fallen fledgling. “Investigate. Find out what happened.”
He hung his thumbs on the waist of his shorts. “She’s not inclined to cooperate.”
“You probably scared her half to death.”
He scoffed. “If she’s scared, it’s because she’s hiding something.” Nica’s gaze soaked him like a secret tide pool. Okay, so he tended toward skepticism.
“I can’t imagine what she’s going through. To lose her past, her self.”
Plenty of times he’d consider that an improvement, but no point getting Nica on that track. He sighed. “I’ll look into it tomorrow. Unless she has a miraculous recovery tonight.”
Nica frowned at the sarcasm. “Her memory could return at any time. You remember Clay. He walked around like a broken record for days; then suddenly he was fine.”
“He knew who he was.”
“So maybe she injured a different part of the brain.”
“An MRI would determine that.”
Nica sighed. “I offered to take her in for tests. She doesn’t want it.”
“Now, why might that be?” He planted his hands on his hips.
“Kai.” She shook her head. “She trusts me, and I’m not going to betray that.”
“Then why call me?”
“Because Okelani said—”
He expelled an exasperated breath. “Don’t tell me this is some kapukapu nonsense.” A gecko mocked him with a sharp kekekekek from the screen over the window.
“You wouldn’t call it sacred nonsense if she were here.”
As he took the time to form an inoffensive response, the trade winds blew clouds off the moon, but it quickly covered its face again. “I love Okelani. But that doesn’t mean I buy in to everything she says.”
Nica laid a hand on his arm. Her fingers were cool. “Jade’s in trouble.”
“No doubt.” And she’d brought her trouble to the one person whose quota had been filled a long time ago.
“Okelani sensed malice but said it did not originate with her.”
“Doesn’t mean she isn’t party to it. Malice has tentacles.” Cameron crossed his arms.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He unfolded his arms, accommodating her sensitivity to body language. “I wish you hadn’t gotten involved.”
She said nothing. They both knew she could no more ignore a person in need than such people could avoid seeking her out. From the time she was small, wounded creatures and other children had found in Nica a listening ear and healing kindness. She believed they were sent by God, but in recent years sojourners had come to Nica to die. If God thought she was prepared
to handle that, he wasn’t watching too closely.
Maybe this time Nica knew she’d reached her limit. It was why she’d called, and why he’d come immediately. But she wasn’t ready to admit it, so until then he’d do the best he could. He stroked the line of beard that framed his mouth. “We’ll see what the morning brings.”
Her gratitude was deep and immediate. “Mahalo.”
“ ‘A‘ole pilikia.” No trouble.
The sun’s rays never penetrated the incessant flow, but when morning came, the churning water curtain lit up like a gauzy, white wall and brought some comfort to the hollow that had in the dark grown tomblike. When he opened his eyes this morning, the mist held a tiny rainbow. He cried.
Three nights he had spent on the ledge, as immobile as he could keep himself. If Gentry had retraced their path and found no one—likely since it was a local’s trail not included in any guidebook he’d seen—she’d have had to walk. She didn’t have the Jeep keys. They’d been in his pocket but were there no longer. The barely discernable track was six miles to the more passable, yet still obscure, four-wheeldrive road another eleven miles from the shore. How long would it take on foot?
Not three days. Something was wrong. Was she injured or lost? Maybe there was no passage back to the top of the falls. Maybe she’d tried a different way. Or been carried by the water. Where would it take her? He wished he’d studied that.
Gentry knew to head down away from the center of the island. Even so, much of the coastline was native, especially at the northwest end, the western Na Pali shore entirely so. If she hadn’t hit a road or trail, there was no telling how long until she found help. He laid his head back and swallowed the pain.
As he’d done throughout the last three days, he prayed for Gentry to find her way, prayed for her safety, then broadened those prayers to encompass all she’d been through lately, and all that still might come at her. He had hoped this getaway would take her mind away from her trouble, not bring her more. He knew too well the forces arrayed against her, the power of lies, the voices of evil, even the voices of friends infected by the poison of doubt.
He’d seen her stunned disbelief, watched it eat away her confidence, the optimism that had been her nature. He had watched her faith get rocked, the radiant faith that had seemed so solid before she’d been cast into the furnace. He’d prayed she would emerge tempered, not scarred. He prayed it now, taking his mind from himself.
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