“Thanks.”
He hung up just as he made it to a ticketing agent.
“I need to be in Honolulu as fast as possible,” he told the woman.
“We’ve got a flight that leaves at 6:35 in the morning.”
“Not good enough. I needed to be there already.”
She frowned. “The only flight tonight leaves in twenty minutes. I don’t think-”
“I’ll take it.” He slammed his driver’s license and his credit card down on the counter. “Please call the gate and tell them I’m coming. It’s a family emergency.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Two minutes later he was standing in the line for security, chafing at the delay. He watched in disgust as they signaled out a man with crutches for extra screening. The guy was well-dressed, traveling with his wife, and looked like he was ex-military. What the idiots of the TSA didn’t realize was that whatever flight that guy was on would be one of the safest flights possible. A terrorist wouldn’t survive three seconds with someone like him on the plane.
Or someone like me.
At last he made it out the other side. His gate was at the far end of the airport and the plane would be leaving it in five minutes. He ran. The airport was crowded and he had to dodge in and out, running around other startled travelers.
One woman dropped her bags in front of him and bent to pick them up. He had no choice and he vaulted over her. He would make that plane and no one could stop him.
At last he made it to the section of the airport he needed to be in. His gate was at the far end and he saw a lone flight attendant standing, waving him on. He put on a fresh burst of speed, relieved that this section was empty.
She moved over to stand in front of the door to the jetway and he flung his ticket at her, pausing only long enough for her to hand it back. He raced down and the flight attendants clustered inside the door of the plane parted way for him.
He heard them close the door behind him as he made his way to his seat. Fortunately it was on the aisle and he slid into it. As he buckled his seatbelt the plane backed away from the gate and he closed his eyes.
He could hear the flight attendant giving the safety spiel. He didn’t bother paying attention. He’d heard it thousands of times before. And if the plane went down he already had his own safety plans well figured out years earlier.
The guy in the seat next to him was nervous. He could smell the fear on him. Jeremiah opened his eyes a crack and turned his head slightly to study his travel companion. The man had the white-knuckle look of a terrified flyer, not the nervous anticipation of a terrorist.
Reassured, Jeremiah closed his eyes again. He wondered where Cindy was and what she was going through. He should have never let her go on vacation alone.
But who am I to make those kinds of decisions about her life? he chided himself.
I’m no one, just a friend. It’s not my place.
Though the thought made him inexplicably sad, he knew it was the truth. He tried to take comfort from that. It was not his right to stop Cindy from doing anything she pleased regardless of how dangerous it might be.
It was Hawaii. It shouldn’t have been dangerous. In his gut, though, he knew that wasn’t a real excuse. Pine Springs wasn’t a dangerous place either. Still, Cindy always managed to seem to find trouble. Or it found her. Either way, trouble and she seemed to go together.
Even though it wasn’t his job to save her, he knew that he would always feel compelled to. He knew that if he was going to save her now he needed to be alert and focused once he landed in Honolulu.
He slumped down in his seat and focused his breathing. Before the wheels were off the tarmac, he was asleep.
~
Mark was pacing in his office like a man gone insane. Something was wrong. Something had happened to Cindy. Every instinct he had told him that, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Even if he wasn’t in his current state of suspension he was a California cop not a Hawaii one.
If only he had eyes and ears on island, some way he could help out. Jeremiah was going to need help, that much he was certain of. The rabbi was incredibly resourceful and resilient but he was going into completely unknown territory and he was going blind.
Since he wouldn’t be able to prove that Cindy was technically missing yet he’d get precious little help from the Honolulu police department either. And suddenly he stopped pacing. A friend he had gone to college with who had been from the islands and had gone into law enforcement as well. They barely spoke anymore, just sent the occasional Christmas cards and he got email with pictures of the guy’s kids and sent appropriate responses pertaining to how big they were getting.
And a light dawned in his mind as he remembered the last Christmas card he’d gotten from the guy and the big news he’d had to share about his promotion. And he knew he had an ally in Hawaii that could help Jeremiah, or at least get the search for Cindy going. He reached for his phone.
~
Cindy woke with a start. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus. Her head was buzzing and her tongue felt swollen and thick.
I’ve been knocked out again, she realized. She remembered the odor inside the pillowcase. She wondered if she could expect any kind of long-term brain damage from it all. In the next moment she realized it was ridiculous to worry about that when she was facing imminent death.
She forced herself to breathe in and out slowly as she tried to bring herself fully awake. The process was slow and she hated the hazy feeling.
Her chin was touching her chest and she slowly raised her head. Shooting pain shot up her neck and her shoulders felt like they were on fire. She winced as she finally got her head upright. She felt like her neck and her entire spinal cord was kinked.
Slowly she became aware of the rest of her body. Her hands were throbbing and she looked down to see them clenched into fists. Her wrists were tied tightly to the sides of a metal chair. She slowly forced her fingers open and they tingled. Her legs and ankles were lashed to the bottom of the chair. Her feet were tingly and going numb like they were falling asleep. She tried to wiggle her toes but it did no good.
Nothing seemed to be broken. She rolled her neck gingerly, trying to get it to loosen up as she stretched and flexed her fingers.
Finally she took stock of her surroundings. She was in a light, airy room with windows on three sides. She could see trees outside of the windows in the light from the fading sun and realized that from the angle she was looking at them she had to be on a second floor.
She blinked several times, trying to grasp what she was looking at. She could see outside. She wasn’t in a basement and there were no curtains or blinds on the windows. Maybe she could signal for help. As she craned her neck around to look out each window, though, she realized that wouldn’t work.
There wasn’t a house or road in sight in any direction. Mr. Black, or whoever had her now, clearly had no fear of anyone seeing her here. Outside she could see a great many trees. A few were palm trees but the majority were something else. Behind the trees a mountain rose up toward the sky. She could see the tiniest trickle of a waterfall down it, but no houses or signs of civilization. The mountains were visible out of all three windows.
The room was bare except for a television set mounted high on the wall. The walls were otherwise smooth and cream colored. The floors were wood and looked new. The whole room looked new, like a house that had never been lived in.
The television was on although there was no sign of a remote control. It was showing a rerun of some old cop show.
If only the real cops were on their way to find her. She had to hope that they were and that they would get there before it was too late. Mr. Black had never had a chance to answer her question about why she should cooperate with him. Maybe it was just as well. She had a feeling that where he was concerned she was dead no matter what she did.
At the thought she could feel her pulse accelerate and she started to breathe fast
er.
Calm down, don’t hyperventilate, she told herself.
After a couple of minutes she was able to bring her breathing under control. She looked outside and couldn’t tell anything about her location from the trees and mountains she saw.
Next she strained her ears, listening for sounds of life in other parts of the house. It was impossible to hear anything but the blare of her own television, though.
“Where am I and where is everyone else?” she whispered.
She tested her bonds but there was zero give in them and after a few minutes she gave up. All she could do was sit and wait.
And pray.
She got busy doing that.
~
Jeremiah spent the plane ride sleeping. He had learned when he was young that one of the first rules of survival in an uncertain situation was to sleep when you could and eat when you could because you didn’t know when you’d be able to do either again. He knew that once the plane touched down in Honolulu he would not rest until he had found Cindy.
He woke to hear the captain’s announcement that they’d be arriving shortly and that local time was three hours earlier than Los Angeles time making it still Tuesday, though barely. A couple of minutes later they touched down and began to taxi. He turned on his phone. The only message was from Mark telling him he’d called every medical facility on the island with no luck and asking him to call when he knew anything.
He tried calling Cindy’s cell one more time but it again went straight to voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving a message. He pocketed the phone and quietly eased his seatbelt off. He was more convinced than ever that something was really wrong and that he didn’t want to be trapped behind people gathering their endless piles of carryon luggage and shuffling off the plane.
The moment the plane stopped next to the gate he ejected out of his seat and was halfway down the aisle before anyone else could even get their seatbelt off. He shoved past a guy at the front who swore at him. Jeremiah didn’t care. The niceties of civilized society meant little to him. They were the rules he played by when the world was looking but they were not his rules.
“Family emergency,” he said to the flight attendant who was manning the door when she looked at him with narrowed eyes.
She nodded and as soon as she was able to swing the door open she stepped back so he could go through. He did so at a run. A wave of warm, humid, fragrant air hit him like a wall and he breathed deep as he ran. He hit the terminal and people scattered in front of him.
He ran, his mind racing steps ahead of him. He would have a taxi take him to Cindy’s hotel where hopefully he would find her safe and sound, though he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Then he’d get into her room and try to piece together what happened to her. It was possible she was sick or injured and unable to call for help. And what made his gut twist was that he knew that was a best case scenario.
He made it to the baggage claim area and headed straight for ground transportation. People were grouped around, most carrying leis, some looking for loved ones. Others were drivers carrying signs bearing the names of their passengers.
And suddenly Jeremiah stumbled to a halt, bewilderment rushing through him. A large man who looked nothing like a chauffeur was holding a sign that said Jeremiah Silverman.
9
It was pitch dark and Cindy kept waiting for Mr. Black to show with threats and, hopefully, with food. Her stomach was beginning to growl angrily and she tried to figure out how long it had been since dinner with Kapono. Thinking about it just made her hungrier.
That was okay. She’d rather go without food than have to face her captors. How long had she been a prisoner? Were the police looking for her yet? From there she moved to thoughts of her kidnappers.
Mr. Black and the first guy. She didn’t know what had happened to either of them. She didn’t even know who either of them were. Why had they kidnapped her and what was it they thought she had?
Maybe if she could figure that out she could figure a way out of this mess. Maybe she should lie and tell them she’d have to take them to the location where she’d hidden it. Whatever it was. What had they thought she was supposed to give to Uncle? And why had they thought she’d be the person with it.
She replayed every move she’d made since landing at the airport in her mind. How could anyone have mistaken her for anything other than the tourist she was? She’d gone to Pearl Harbor, gone to the luau, gone on a snorkeling tour, even if she hadn’t gone in the water. It was a good thing she hadn’t. If she had--
She stopped. The faulty life preserver. Was it possible that it hadn’t been an accident? Was it possible that Al had known there was something wrong with it when he tried to give it to her and when he tried to keep it from Marge? But why? Why was he trying to hurt her? Did he think she had whatever it was as well? Had he planned to go through her stuff while she was dead or injured looking for it? If so, how was he connected to Mr. Black and her attacker?
She closed her eyes, trying to tune out the blare of the television so she could think better. Al hadn’t seemed to know who she was when she first got on the boat. It had been after she reminded him that she’d seen him at the archaeological site that his mannerisms had changed slightly and he’d offered her the life preserver. But that made no sense. All she’d seen was him doing his job. Maybe someone had called him and told him to kill her once the ship left port.
She sighed. She had no idea whether he was connected to the others or if it was just a coincidence about the life preserver or even if there were two groups of people out to kill her.
After they get whatever it is they’re after.
It was something they thought she or someone would be giving to Uncle. It was sad, but she couldn’t even remember the restaurant owner’s real name.
So, maybe she could figure out what it is they were looking for. It was possible it was something in the restaurant at the time she was there. If so, and they hadn’t found it yet, it was probably in some police evidence locker.
But she was not about to share that information anytime soon. After all Mr. Black had told the other man to kill her after he got what he wanted. It didn’t seem like it was in her best interest to tell him that the police had it.
She mentally reviewed her time in the restaurant, trying to remember everything she’d seen. Maybe it had something to do with the cell phone that had been sitting unattended on the counter. But if that was what they were looking for, wouldn’t they have taken it when they killed Uncle?
Unless they didn’t kill Uncle, but someone else did.
Uncle, who killed you and why? she thought, frustration mounting.
Kapono had hinted that Uncle might be laundering money through his business. Were these people partners of his or perhaps rivals? If so, were they looking for something related to money? It made sense, but she still didn’t see how they thought she had anything to do with it.
She thought about the rest of her conversation with Kapono. He had been surprised that the taxi driver had sent her to Uncle’s. Why had he? Did he really like the food and it was just an innocent piece of advice? Or was he somehow involved as well?
Her head began to pound. The television was blaring very loudly and the more tired she became the louder it seemed. Between it and the hunger and her desperation to figure things out her head was beginning to throb and the room was starting to spin.
Her stomach was rumbling louder and she felt incredibly nauseated. Night was falling. It had to have been at least a day since she was kidnapped. It could have even been two. She felt herself starting to panic and that just made her head hurt more.
It’s going to be okay, she told herself. If they hoped to get any information out of her they were going to have to come back soon and give her something to eat and drink. Once she had that then she would feel better, stronger, and she could work on escaping. She just had to hold out a little longer.
~
Jeremiah approached the man with the sign wari
ly. The man was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was easily seven feet tall with a broad chest and heavily muscled arms. He was scowling.
“I’m Jeremiah Silverman. Who are you?”
“Kapono Robinson. I’m a detective with the Honolulu Police Department.”
“What’s happened?” Jeremiah asked sharply.
“You tell me. My captain got a call from a buddy of his in Los Angeles. Said someone needed to pick you up, that a woman was missing.”
Mark calling in more favors, Jeremiah realized.
“Okay, let’s go,” Jeremiah said.
He fell into step with Kapono, matching his stride. “Why did they send you?” he asked.
“I was talking to the captain when he got the call. When I heard that the missing woman was Cindy I volunteered. I wanted to go to her hotel but he sent me to get you first.”
“You know, Cindy? How?” Jeremiah asked.
They walked outside and an unmarked car was parked at the curb, lights going in the window. They got in. Kapono flipped off the light and pulled away from the curb.
“She was a witness in a homicide case over the weekend.”
“Of course she was,” Jeremiah said with a groan.
“What do you mean?”
“Trouble has a way of finding Cindy. What happened?”
“A local restaurant owner was murdered in his kitchen. She was the one who found the body and called 911.”
Jeremiah leaned his head against the backrest and gritted his teeth. Cindy, why didn’t you call me?
“Ultimately she didn’t see anything, we didn’t need anything else from her. Not really.”
Jeremiah could tell by the hesitation in the detective’s voice that he wasn’t telling the whole story.
“I just hope she’s alright,” Jeremiah said.
“She was fine when I dropped her off Sunday night,” Kapono said.
“From where?”
There was a long pause. Too long. Jeremiah turned and looked at him. “Where were you coming from?”
Kapono wouldn’t look at him; he just kept his eyes fixed on the road. “So, most people would call the police if they thought something had happened to someone. They wouldn’t jump on the first plane they could and fly out here. Are you the boyfriend or something?”
Beside Still Waters (Psalm 23 Mysteries) Page 9
