Freefall (30 page)

Despite the balmy trade winds wafting through the open side windows, the piquant aromas of Choy’s savory fare filled the room they entered. The space was cluttered with black enamel tables and red vinyl chairs. White silk banners hanging from the ceiling flapped airily, and Oriental music twanged over a grainy sound system.

She didn’t miss the stares and comments, but no one asked for an autograph as they found a table.

Nica scooted her chair in under the table. “Do you think he’ll wait? That cameraman?”

Gentry took her own place. “He’s probably perched outside with his telephoto, hoping to catch me with sweet-and-sour sauce dribbling down my chin. ‘Gentry Fox drinks latest victim’s blood.’ ”

Nica’s eyes widened.

“Open to interpretation, of course. I might have a bleeding disorder with only days to live.” At Nica’s troubled sigh, Gentry smiled. “It’s okay. Really.” She glanced around the simple square room. “You picked a good place. Not too many hiding spots.”

“TJ picked it. I wish he’d get here.”

Gentry tried to share her enthusiasm. The waitress brought them water, and they told her they’d wait to order when their other member arrived.

Nica sipped. “I had an interesting thing happen at the nursing home today. One of the residents saw your picture in the paper and said, ‘Isn’t it nice she has such a strong angel watching over her?’ ”

Gentry puzzled that a moment. “Meaning Cameron?”

“No.” Nica reached into her purse and took out the photo from the local paper, taken during the interview Darla had arranged. She laid it flat on the table and pointed to a blur in the corner. “Right here.”

Gentry frowned. “That’s … an angel?”

“According to Gayle Falstaff.” Nica looked up. “She was adamant.”

“Is she …” How to say it kindly?

“Senile?” Nica shook her head. “She’s one of the sharper ones.”

Gentry stared at the picture again, not sure what to make of it.

Nica leaned back. “Kai thinks you have divine protection.”

Gentry shook her head. “The centipede?”

“And the falls.”

She looked at the photo. Intellectually she believed in angels. But this … “Why me and not Uncle Rob?”

Nica searched her face. “Not your uncle? Gentry, he hit the rocks and lived. And what were the chances Cameron would find that lava tube?”

Gentry released a slow breath. How easily she limited God, focused on what he hadn’t done, instead of all he had. “I can’t see an angel there, but …”

Nica fixed her with a deep gray gaze. “When you came, I thought you’d bring me grief. Most of those who find me—”

“Find you?”

Nica nodded. “I don’t ask how or where they get my name. Most are past any help except love and understanding for their last days.” She dropped her gaze. “Someone I’d cared for had just died, and … I was raw.”

Gentry’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known …”

“I wished you hadn’t come. But I knew if Jesus brought you to my door, there had to be a reason.”

Gentry didn’t know what to say.

“I’d started having nightmares, seeing all the people who had died. I felt like the angel of death and thought you were one more face to haunt my dreams.”

“But you took me in.”

“And I haven’t dreamed of the dead since.”

This had to be the strangest conversation she’d ever had.

“I’d been pulling away from people I loved because I couldn’t take any more. The night you came, I had prayed for the Lord to take me instead.”

Her breath suspended. “Does Cameron know?”

Nica shook her head. “Please don’t tell him. Besides, everything’s changed.”

“How?”

Nica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think because I was willing, even when I had nothing left to give, Jesus brought me a gift instead of a burden.”

“Nica—”

She laughed. “I know it sounds crazy. But I don’t know how else to explain the joy I’ve found.”

“I haven’t done anything. It’s been you and Cameron helping me.”

“Well, maybe that’s how it works.” Her eyes moistened. “Thank you for landing in my yard.”

The door opened, and they checked for TJ, but it was a Hawaiian bigger than TJ who headed for a stool at the bar. Gentry started to turn away, but as he took a seat and rested his fists on the bar, her glance caught on his hammy arm and the red-and-black dragon running down it.

Dizziness seized her. She clutched the edge of the table, felt herself falling, falling …

“Gentry?”

“I need to use the rest room.”

Nica’s quizzical gaze followed as she wove through the tables. At the curtained entrance to the rest rooms, she raised her phone and took a picture. The guy half turned, and she ducked behind the curtain, breathing hard. Was she out of her mind? She moved down the narrow hall into the bathroom and phoned Cameron.

“Pierce,” he almost barked.

“Cameron? It’s Gentry.”

“Hold on a minute.” She heard a motor gear down, then he came back on. “Gentry, what’s up?”

She drew a shaky breath. “I found the dragon.”

He waited a beat. “Talk to me.”

“I took a picture. I’ll send it.” She put him on hold and accessed the function that sent the photo to Cameron’s phone, then brought him back.

“A tattoo? You’re sure that’s the dragon you saw?”

“I’m not sure of anything. I just had a feeling when I saw it.” A debilitating, head-spinning feeling. “I’m at Choy’s with Nica. The guy came in, and I saw it, and … something feels wrong.”

“Can he see you now?”

“I’m in the ladies’ room.”

“I’d tell you to wait until I got there, but I’m two thousand miles away.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But you said to call.” Taking the picture and calling had been knee-jerk reactions. What could he possibly do?

He released a slow breath. “Let’s assume he knows who you are.”

“Likely assumption.” Even if he had nothing to do with anything else.

“Does he know you recognize him?”

“I don’t. If it weren’t for the tattoo, I wouldn’t have looked twice.”

“Okay, listen.” His voice took authority. “If he saw you take out your phone, let him think you were only making this call.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to keep talking and go back out. Don’t even glance his way. And act like you’re enjoying the conversation.”

“Sounds like stage direction.”

“Play it.”

Laughing softly, she opened the bathroom door, stepped out and gasped. He was coming toward her, all but filling the hallway. She had less than a second to slip into character. “No, really. So close I could touch it. You know how dangerous that would be.”

“He’s there?”

“Would I lie?” She pressed into the wall so they could pass each other, but the guy didn’t do the same, just stood with his stare fixed on her face.

Play the part. “Listen, honey, I better get back to the table. Nica’s waiting.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“Love you too. Bye.” She closed her phone and slid it into her pocket. “Excuse me.” For a moment she thought he would pin her into the wall.

“Gentry?” TJ Kanakanui came up behind the dragon man in his Kauai PD uniform, with side arm and cuffs.

“Oh good, you’re here. I’m starved.” Nica might have sent him after her, but his expression didn’t show whether he’d expected trouble or just wanted to eat. The man turned to let her pass. Her heart pounded so hard as she squeezed by that she was sure the tattooed Hawaiian would hear it. He went into the door marked
Kane
. She had hardly cleared the curtain when her phone rang.

Cameron’s pulse raced. The second she answered, he snapped, “Do you understand
don’t
?”

“It’s all right; TJ is here.”

He expelled a breath. “Let me talk to him.”

When TJ came on, Cameron said, “ TJ, that moke in the hallway?”

“Yeah?”

“Take him in for questioning.”

“For what?”

Good question. “Gentry recognized his tattoo. I think he’s involved with whatever happened to them.”

“I nevah can take him in cuz you tink something.”

“He might be the local who sent them out there. Get him.”

“What charge? Bad directions?”

A lowly patrolman, TJ Kanakanui was most often on traffic detail. He was no detective, and there was no evidence of a crime. Cameron clenched his jaw. If he were there they could hammer out a strategy. He could question the guy without the formalities that bound an officer of the law. But he wasn’t there. He tried again. “What if it wasn’t an accident? Okelani sensed malice.”

“Sorry, brah. Not enough.”

Cameron scowled. “What was he doing in the hall?”

“Going to the john.”

He expelled a breath. “Just find out who he is, okay?”

“I know who he is. Glenn Malakua’s cousin.”

Cameron gripped his hair. “Then talk to him!”

“No can.”

“Why not?”

“I wen put Malakua in jail when he wale on his wife.”

“Great.” He dropped his hand. “Help me out here, TJ.”

“I keep one eye on Gentry. Das all. Now gotta go.” TJ hung up.

Cameron stared at the picture Gentry had sent. The guy was big and gnarly. Picturing him with Gentry in the little hallway at Choy’s made his skin crawl. Had she been scared? He wished he hadn’t told her to pretend. She was too good an actor. His throat squeezed.
“Love you too?”
He dragged his hand over his beard and frowned.

What was going on in his head? Potential? He could strangle Myra for planting the thought, except she’d only reported what she saw. Even though his only intention had been to protect Nica from another heartache, something had crackled between him and Gentry like sheet lightning.

He wanted no part of her life, and had no room for anyone in his. But that didn’t stop potential from working on him like acid eating away the rust and corruption of the last time.

TWENTY-FOUR

As she strolled Hale Kahili’s private
beach the next morning, Gentry pondered her encounter with the dragon man. She had told TJ that she recognized the tattoo, but had not mentioned the feelings it churned. He’d been unimpressed by her hunch the last time, and it was possible she’d overreacted in the hallway. With the sand shifting under her feet and the rhythmic
whoosh
of the waves in her ears, she tried to shake off her unease and relax.

A lot had happened, and she needed to find her balance. Alone on the little beach, she turned her thoughts to Nica’s angel theory. She’d shared it with her uncle and now recalled the warmth of that moment. How he’d beamed.
“I knew there was something about you.”

The wind ruffled her hair with caressing fingers, and she took in the beauty of the golden sand licked by the frothy surf, fringed by lush, blooming foliage. A few lanky palms stretched up under the noon sun, ruffled by the breeze. Though it was a different beach from where she’d met Mai-Tai Sam, she recalled that evening—how frightened and confused she’d been, seeking recognition, wanting to be known, and yet afraid of what she’d find.

Without memory, what had remained were the pillars of her personality; hope and perseverance. She’d been foolish, stubborn, and self-protecting. But Nica had convinced her she was part of something bigger and more real. Something eternal. She stopped walking and watched the waves. They no longer looked lost or forgetful. They simply followed the eternal pattern designed for them.

She drew in the salt scent and wondered at the pattern of her life. From the time she could talk, she’d parroted lines beyond her understanding, sensing a drama to life that had to be presented. Her sisters, ten and six years older, had paraded her around like a performing doll, and she could still remember the smiles and hands clapping. Nothing except her adventures with Uncle Rob had ever come close to her calling in the dramatic arts.

She had played in a number of stage and TV productions, but when nothing seemed to come of it, she’d thrown her energies into the troupe. Having Act Out recognized as a valuable resource in the community, working with the kids, was incredibly rewarding. But the joy of acting, of leaving herself and becoming someone new, speaking not as Gentry Fox but as Cosette or Dulcinea or Ilsa remained. And when the part in
Steel
came without her trying, she had known it was God.

She reached the line of wet sand, slipped off her sandals and stepped closer to the foamy surf that wrapped itself around her feet and ankles, a cool rush that pulled the sand out from under her heels. Rainbows rose up from a shimmering tide pool at the black stony edge of the shore. She smiled and raised her face to the sun’s rays. The warmth sank into her cheeks as if they were butter. Was it foolish to believe the storm had passed?

Cameron hadn’t told her whether he’d taken care of things as he’d promised. There hadn’t been a chance to discuss it. But the concern in his voice had stayed with her. It triggered memories of their time in the mountains—his fingers brushing her arm in disbelief, his yielding to her choice of path, his strong arm in the rushing water.

Because of Uncle Rob, she measured men by the way they handled a mountain. It didn’t have to be a geological slope, though. One guy had needed to crest every intellectual peak. While she’d been attracted to his widespread knowledge, his egotistical delivery grew thin fast. Someone who had to constantly air his vocabulary wasn’t much fun to talk to.

There’d been those determined to surmount her resistance and conquer her virtue. And then there was Daniel—her spiritual superior—more rigid and experienced in faith, styled perhaps for his namesake, the prophet. He’d answered her questions with the patience of a parent, giving her only what he believed she could handle. Daniel had subtly revealed his maturity and wisdom. She had only to trust in him. No wonder she’d fashioned a Santa Claus God.

A rooster strutted across the sand, raised his head and crowed. Smiling, she remembered Cameron saying they had no barnyard manners. Unlike this feathered popinjay, he hadn’t tried to impress her. No boasting. No list of achievements. She knew almost nothing about him. Yet in the Hanalei Mountains, she and Cameron had found a natural partnership. Pushing the limits of their strength and experience, they’d become a team. He hadn’t held her back until they reached the pool where he thought they might find her uncle’s dead body.