by Kay Bratt
Her parents waited, letting her have the floor.
Her phone beeped, alerting her to a text message.
“Just a minute,” Quinn said. “Let me make sure the front desk is okay.”
She reached for her phone and read the message.
Maui county detective at the desk, asking for you.
“What’s the matter?” Jules asked. “Something’s wrong. Spit it out.”
Great. Her mother could already read her like a book.
“Quinn?” Noah added.
“There’s a detective at the front desk asking for me,” Quinn said, looking up at them. “What do I do?”
“There’s nothing else to do but bring him back here and talk to him,” Noah said. His brow furrowed even more than it had talking about Kira.
“But what will we say?” Quinn asked. Her hands had turned to useless limp noodles, and she nearly dropped her phone.
Jules stood and began pacing. She wrung her hands in front of her, then turned around. “I know. We’ll say she’s our niece. Not our daughter.”
“That’s a thought. Only our family and closest friends know the truth, and they surely aren’t going to say anything,” Noah said. “Not taking your birth name back has kept everyone else from being suspicious.”
“But the authorities can prove I’m your daughter with a DNA test,” Quinn said. “We all saw how easy that was. Then you could be charged with interfering with an investigation if they figure it out.”
“We’re not lying to the authorities,” Noah said. “I don’t know what I’ll say, but just let me do the talking. We’ll meet in the lobby. This is your home, Quinn. Let’s keep the negative energy out of it.”
She agreed. This needed to remain her safe place without the taint of accusations being made within it. She led her parents out of her suite and to the main area. They chose the most private seating area; then Quinn approached the uniformed man who leaned on the front desk.
“Excuse me,” she said.
From the back she could see he was a stocky man, his dark hair peppered with gray. He was at least her father’s age, if not older. He could’ve been past the age of retirement, but here on the island she’d heard that many people worked well past their sixties.
He turned. “Are you Quinn Maguire?”
She nodded. Now she could tell he appeared to be of Hawaiian and Japanese descent.
He showed her his badge. “I’m Detective Kamaka of the Maui Police Department. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“This way,” she said, leading him to where her parents sat.
Noah stood up and held his hand out. The detective took it, and they shook. “Noah Monroe. And this is my wife, Jules.”
The detective pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped it open. “I suspected as much.”
They all took a seat.
“I’m glad you are all here, as the questions will pertain to all parties,” Detective Kamaka said. He took a pen out of his pocket and clicked the tip out, ready to write.
Noah cleared his throat. “We would like to respectfully decline questions without an attorney present.”
Quinn blinked. She hadn’t seen that one coming.
The detective looked up from his pad. “Why would you lawyer up on me? This isn’t a criminal case. As far as I know. Is it?”
Jules looked from the detective to Noah. Quinn could see the alarm on her mother’s face at just the word criminal mentioned.
The detective switched his attention to Quinn. “Ms. Maguire, would you like to make a statement in regards to the article that was published in the Maui Now news that claims you are Nama Monroe, the child who was lost at sea?”
He tapped his pen onto the pad, making bold marks along the edge. Marks of frustration, no doubt. His stare felt like it was burning holes through her forehead.
“I—” she stammered, but stopped when her dad put his hand on her arm.
“Again, my wife and I, as well as Ms. Maguire, will be glad to talk to you with our attorney present. I’ll need to give him some notice and see if we can match up an afternoon to your schedule,” Noah said.
Quinn had to give it to him. He was firm without being the least bit rude. He also didn’t mention that her mother came from a family of attorneys, and having one by his side in a matter of minutes was possible. If the detective already knew it, he didn’t let on.
“Look, people. This case has been open for far too long. If you have answers, I’d appreciate you giving them.”
“We’ll be glad to talk to you with our attorney present,” Noah said, repeating his mantra, but this time with more compassion.
The detective didn’t care for his compassion. He flipped his notebook shut, then pushed it and his pen into his pocket. He gave her father the death stare and stood.
“We’d like to thank you for wanting to get to the bottom of any unfounded rumors,” Noah said. “And we look forward to speaking to you again.”
The detective seemed unnerved at the over-the-top cordiality of the man in front of him. He looked like he didn’t know whether to spit or smile.
Noah was impressive, and Quinn had to wonder if she’d inherited some of his peacemaking abilities, as the way he spoke felt similar to how she’d mediated with people in the past.
“You’ll be hearing from me,” the detective said to Quinn. “I’ll show myself out and begin my investigation from another angle. I’ll expect to see the three of you at the precinct by this Friday at five p.m.”
He walked away, and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief.
It was short-lived, though. She knew this was only a reprieve.
There was sure to be more to come. This was one story that was too good for the town to let go. She just hoped she could figure out a way to keep the mobs and sticks of fire off her family’s doorstep.
Chapter Thirteen
“This is the narrowest place on the Maliko Stream. We’ll cross here,” Liam said, holding his arm out to help Quinn find each stone strategically put in place to get across the span of rippling water. She almost wished they’d fall in, as it looked cool and inviting, and the hike up was testing her newfound physical endurance abilities.
Liam, however, wasn’t the least bit winded. So Quinn quietly suffered.
He’d shown up shortly after the detective left, then her parents, and found Quinn alone in her suite. To her humiliation, he’d caught her huddled on the couch, looking like a total wreck.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he’d said, pulling her into his arms.
She’d melted against him. He smelled of freshly cut wood and hard work. And he felt so solid. So safe. It would be easy to let him help make sense of things or sort everything out, but that was the old Quinn, the one who allowed everyone around her to guide her life.
The new Quinn—the one who’d been found and reborn in Maui—had to suck it up and be a big girl. She also had to sort out some details and get plans in motion. Before Friday. That meant they had three days. But first, he deserved to know.
“Liam, I’m leaving,” she’d whispered in his ear as he held her.
They broke apart and settled on the couch, where she told him she’d made up her mind that the best thing for her to do was leave the island.
Permanently.
She’d figured it out. A second disappearance from the island was the only way to save her family from public shaming, as well as protect the reputation of the mother who raised her. Even if she was gone from this earth, Quinn could feel her around, guiding her to make good decisions. For that mother to be painted as a criminal was something Quinn wasn’t about to let happen, even if technically, it was true. The simple truth was that Elizabeth had been deprived of love until Nama came into her life. She’d grown up in a dysfunctional family without siblings, or the affection of her parents, and when Nama gravitated toward her so easily, Elizabeth couldn’t give her up. Against the law, yes. Malicious, no. At least not in Quinn’s opinion.
“The ma
inland isn’t that far, Quinn. They’ll find you.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not. I unknowingly lived under an alias for decades. It can be done.”
Leaving the inn and all the sweat and tears she’d put into it would crush her, but she planned to start pulling résumés for hotel managers that very afternoon. She couldn’t be too picky, considering the immediate need. She’d talk to her grandmother as soon as she found a replacement. It was possible she might only go to Oahu, or the Big Island. But somewhere that no one cared who Nama Monroe or Quinn Maguire was or wasn’t.
Liam listened quietly. That was his way. Take things in and let them simmer. He didn’t try to talk her out of anything.
Finally she ran out of things to say. Then he spoke.
“Take the rest of the morning off and come with me,” he’d said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“I can’t. Emily is swamped up there, and Maggie will be bringing in Charlie.”
“I’ll have you back by one o’clock, and you can send Emily on a long lunch to recover. Rosa can handle Charlie alone for a few hours. Please.”
Since he rarely asked her for anything, she’d agreed. They’d dropped by Colleen’s for breakfast, a local restaurant in Haiku, and though the food looked and smelled delicious, she’d barely eaten a bite.
She didn’t know she would be jungle-jogging afterward or she might’ve made herself eat more.
Now here they were, climbing steep terrain and crossing streams that were fairly full because of the previous night’s small squall. It was a far cry from fielding phone calls and maintenance emergencies, and she felt like a fugitive on the run. Emily was probably losing her mind by now, handling the midmorning rush alone.
However, she had to admit the fresh air and serenity of Haiku calmed her. The area was similar to Hana in that it was a beautiful, remote part of Maui. Unlike Hana, though, Haiku was still yet undiscovered to most visiting the island. She was pleased that they hadn’t passed a single person on the way up. What they had passed was a quiet rainbow of colors and scents in the many tropical flowers she spotted. Heliconia, angel’s-trumpet, several types of orchids, and even a few birds-of-paradise.
Leaving Maui was going to hurt. It truly was a tropical utopia to those who knew how to appreciate the gift of nature. Quinn couldn’t get enough of it, and she counted her blessings often that on her deathbed, her mother had sent her to the island of her birth.
The island she now needed to leave.
“We’re almost there,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Quinn said. She saw no sign of any sort of landmark or place to rest. They’d hiked for at least an hour, first through thick grass, then a bamboo forest, and now simply thick vegetation that was crisscrossed with a few streams of water.
She was beginning to worry that they were lost.
He chuckled. “I’m sure.”
“I don’t know how you could be sure of anything up here. I can’t even tell north from south.”
“Look at the sun. And I should know this by now, but are you a Jimi Hendrix fan?”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Quinn said. To be honest, she knew he was a legend, but she couldn’t name a single tune he once sang. “Why?”
“We’re not too far from a property where he stayed when he was here for his 1970 Rainbow Bridge concert. He stayed in a 1930s-era cottage, and they’ve left it that way.”
“Up here? In the wild?” Quinn couldn’t even imagine a rock star wanting to be so far from everything. Though she could relate to a person needing to hide from prying media and fanatical strangers.
“It feels remote and it is, to a point, but actually we aren’t too far from a lot of places. Haiku Town Center is only a few minutes to the east. And Paia Town, the so-called hub of the North Shore, is about ten minutes west. Even the airport is less than fifteen minutes from here. It’s not as isolated as it looks.”
Maybe not, but Quinn couldn’t imagine who they were meeting way up in what felt like the middle of nowhere. Over the last year she’d met Liam’s mother, brothers, and many more relatives of his than she could count. She’d also met lifelong friends that had all sang his praises, showing that he was exactly what she’d thought: a good and loyal person.
He came to a stop so fast that Quinn nearly ran into him.
“Whoa, what’s that?”
In front of them she could see a small path through the trees. Nothing official, just a trail that appeared to be trodden down from frequent use. At the start of it was a fierce-looking wooden statue with a tall headdress.
Liam nodded at it solemnly. “It represents Lono, the spirit of peace and healing. Also agriculture.”
The eyes on the tiki-looking piece were carved on the side of its head. They were round and huge, and quite frightening.
“Is it an idol?” she asked.
Liam shook his head. “No. That’s what people who don’t understand like to think. But we Hawaiians know the truth. Since you’re a true Hawaiian, you also know the truth deep down, but I’ll help you remember,” he said with a smile. “It’s just something we use to focus on, like the Catholics pray to Mother Mary on the altar. Lono is a spirit, and if we acknowledge him, he will help guide us.”
“Who put this here?”
“The man who carved it. My father,” Liam said, his voice low and quiet. Almost reverent.
“It’s . . . Well, it’s really a magnificent piece. Your father must’ve been a very talented artist.” She was a little taken aback. This was only the second time she’d heard Liam mention his father. When she’d asked, he’d said they lost him years ago. It felt like a subject that was off-limits, so she’d never brought it up again.
Liam nodded. “Yes, he was, and still is. Come on.”
He continued on and Quinn followed. His father was still alive?
They followed the path and came to a wooden fence erected in front of them. It was ragged, obviously built from scraps and weatherworn, but hanging on the front of it was a sign.
ABSOLUTELY NO TRESPASSERS! DO NOT ENTER! BEWARE OF DOG!
Quinn felt a ripple of alarm, but she trusted Liam—with her life if need be. He opened the gate and held it for her, and she slipped in.
“My father doesn’t like visitors,” Liam said. “He hasn’t left this property in many years and rarely allows anyone in. But I think it’s time you meet him.”
“I’d be honored.” Quinn held in the rest of her questions. If Liam wanted her to believe his father wasn’t in the picture, there must be a reason. She’d have to wait and see if he wanted to share it with her.
Contrary to the jungle they’d just traversed through, when the gate closed behind her, Quinn was astonished at the beauty that lay before her.
It was still wild and somewhat untamed, but the Maui flora and all the tropical trees formed a protective circle around what she thought of as some sort of homestead. There was also order in the chaos. And so much beautiful woodwork. The first thing she saw in the distance was a rustic cabin. It was small, and a porch ran the length of the house with a solitary chair set out. Quinn could imagine the porch lined with rocking chairs, soft cushions, and colorful flower pots.
It could be so much more inviting.
But she wasn’t here to judge. Or redecorate.
“That cabin is only three hundred square feet. There’s nothing fancy about it. A bed and tiny kitchen area. A wood-burning fireplace for when it gets cool at night. No electricity and not even indoor plumbing. There’s an outhouse for that, and he bathes in the creek.”
“No comforts?” Quinn asked, noticing a cast-iron water pump about thirty feet from the cabin. Beside it were a half dozen or so empty buckets. She thought of her brother, Jonah, noting the similarities between the way he lived compared to Liam’s father.
“Nope. You won’t find items that are for looks, comfort, or even memorabilia. Other than one framed photo that hangs on his wall.”
“So he’s a minimalist.”
Liam gave a strange little snort. “I guess you could say that. He became one before it was a thing.”
He pointed toward another structure, built much bigger than the cabin but with the same exquisite craftsmanship. “Over this way is his workshop. That’s where he spends most of his time. I’m sure he’ll be in there.”
As they walked, Quinn marveled at the many different fruit trees that flanked the property fencing. “It’s like Eden.”
Liam laughed. “Not sure he’d agree. Much of this was here when he came, but my father also grows tangerines, bananas, oranges, grapefruit, and guava. He’s got a greenhouse in the back of the property, higher in elevation, where he has organic vegetables growing. He passes the majority of it to my mother, who distributes it throughout our family.”
Quinn also saw a coconut tree nearly bursting with ready coconuts. No wonder the man rarely left the property. It appeared he had everything he needed to sustain himself, right outside his front door.
Just before they arrived at the shop, a huge black dog stepped out from behind a tree and lumbered toward them. He wasn’t the most graceful of dogs; his eighty pounds or so swayed back and forth with each stride.
“Is he nice?” Quinn asked, remembering the sign.
Liam laughed. “Nice is an understatement. Bodhi is the best dog on the island. He doesn’t bite, bark, or pester. But he will lay at your feet and relish any attention you decide to give.”
Quinn bent down and held her hands out.
Bodhi took his time, but when he got to her, he sat down in front of her and looked up, straining through the curly black bangs that adorned his face.
“Good boy,” Quinn said, rubbing him behind his ears. He cocked his head, pushing into her hands, and gave a little moan of pleasure. “I like him. And I’d count Bodhi as a comfort item, wouldn’t you?”
“I would but my father, probably not. Bodhi is security, and that’s needed out here. He might not attack on command, but he’ll sure sound the alarm if anyone tries to come in uninvited.”
“He didn’t make a sound for us.”
“Oh, he’s got the nose of a bloodhound. He can recognize my scent a mile away. He knows I’m welcome.”
