Chapter 8 #3
I kept my engine and headlights on, pointed at the building for additional illumination, as Lei had told me to. We weren’t trying for surprise on the approach. That we were here at all, and at night, would be a shock to anyone inside the decrepit old tin-roofed building.
My whole body had gone tense with anticipatory adrenaline as I watched the black-clad figures approach the building with weapons drawn; in my Secret Service days, I’d loved nothing more than a good advance security sweep.
Lei had given us a spare radio; it crackled on the dash with the officers’ commands.
Keone must have sensed this because he reached over to take my hand, detaching my cold fingers from where they curled tightly around the steering wheel. “I know you want to be there. With them.” His voice was low. “And I love you for it.”
This was the first time he’d touched me or said anything personal since our spat, and I was more than ready to put that behind us. I squeezed his hand, hard. “And I love you for understanding that about me.”
The team breached the locked entry of the battered old building with a door cannon; the boom of metal applied with force to the rusted doors shattered the stillness of the night like a scream.
All four disappeared inside. A moment later, the radio crackled.
“Kat, Keone, get in here—and bring the medical kit and a bottle of water from our SUV.” Lei’s tone was terse.
I turned off the engine and leapt out of Sharkey. Keone and I converged on the police SUV, fortunately unlocked, and rifled the storage bay in back for a handheld medical kit and a large plastic bottle of water.
Keone had thought to bring a flashlight, so I stayed on his six, following him into the mildewy-smelling darkness of the old warehouse. The dim space was now illuminated by headlamps, flashlights, and an emergency lantern someone had thought to bring.
All those lights were focused on a man lying on the floor in a filthy corner of the warehouse.
Nainoa Emerson was curled on his side. One of the officers was leaning down to lift him into a sitting position as I hurried forward with the water bottle, breathing through my mouth to screen the smells of urine and mold permeating the place.
“Thirsty,” Emerson whispered. he was a tall man, bald with gray whiskers, and wiry in the way of a long-distance runner. His metal-rimmed glasses had been knocked askew.
I knelt to assist, as his hands, which had been bound, were swollen and clearly not working yet. He reeked of the stale sweat of fear and suffering.
I held the bottle to his lips, and he drank—and would have taken more but I removed the bottle. “Go easy. You can make yourself sick.”
He nodded. I reached over and replaced the man’s glasses on his nose, hooking the stems behind his ears—he deserved a little dignity.
Lei, done searching the warehouse, returned to stand square in front of Emerson. “Do you have any serious injuries? Do we need to call an ambulance?”
“No. Dehydrated. Bruised. Hungry.” Emerson’s voice was hoarse. “I sound bad because I called for help a lot until I realized none was coming.”
“Okay. We’ll drive you back to Hana and the urgent care there—probably faster than an ambulance, anyway.” Lei squatted before him and cocked her head in that curious bird way she had. “What can you tell us about who took you?”
Emerson cleared his throat, a rattle like beans in a beer can.
“Not much. There were four of them. They wore bandannas over their faces. They grabbed me in the parking lot of the museum. Tied me up. Threw me in the back of a pickup and drove me out here. Put me in this shed. I was glad they untied my legs and took the gag off.” He shivered; his brown eyes were haunted. “I thought they left me here to die.”
That was my cue to hold the water bottle up for him again; his Adam’s apple bobbed for a bit as he swallowed all that remained.
Lei frowned. “It’s possible the kidnappers wanted you out of the way for a while to impede the report you were writing with Dr. Patel—but when we file, I’ll advise the D.A. that what happened to you qualifies as aggravated kidnapping and possible attempted murder. Heavier charges.”
I glanced around. “Did the team find anything incriminating in here?”
“Seems like they’ve been using this for storage, as Keone speculated,” Lei said.
She indicated a heavy tarp spread on the dirt floor and up against one wall.
Gouges in the soil were visible beneath it.
“That’s likely where they temporarily stored the stone panels.
Did you see anything more that’s relevant, Dr. Emerson? ”
“No. Whatever they’ve been using this place for, they cleared it out before dropping me here, and they haven’t been back since.
I searched for a way out but couldn’t find one.
” Emerson rolled carefully to his knees.
“I’d like to get out of here, if you don’t mind.
” He wriggled his swollen hands; deep purplish marks from zip ties marked his wrists.
“Whenever you’re ready, Dr. Emerson. Can you walk?” I asked.
“Anything to be out of this building,” he said. “I’ll crawl if I have to.”
With Keone on one side and me on the other, we assisted him out of the warehouse into the glare of the headlights used for illumination. “You’ll have to ride with us,” I said. “The police SUV is full.”
“I’ll take him,” said Pali Moku, emerging from the darkness. “Nainoa! Mahalo ke Akua that you’re alive!” The young archaeologist’s hair was wild, and his clothing streaked with mud; but there was no doubting his sincerity as he embraced his mentor. “Come. I’ll take you in my truck.”
Malia Peahi hurried after them. “We still need an official statement. I’ll drop the team off and then meet you at the Hana urgent care.”
Keone followed, drawing up beside Pali as he reached his truck and opened the passenger door for Dr. Emerson. “Did you find the archive?”
“No,” I heard the young man say, but something in Pali’s body language—I frowned. I didn’t believe him.
Lei swung in to stand in front of me; she put her hands on her hips. “So. Is that offer of an overnight with you and Aunt Fae still open? I need to be back in Kahului early tomorrow to chase that warehouse warrant, but I need some shut-eye first. I’ll be leaving before it’s even light out.”
“Absolutely. Keone and I will take you back to my place.”
Keone gave Lei his front seat. He was quiet in back as I drove the three of us, following Pali in his truck with Dr. Emerson, then the police SUV, back to Ohia.
Keone’s silence was potent, as if he was processing something he wasn’t ready to say yet. I’d learned to give him space for that, the same way he gave it to me.
Plus, I was beat.
So was Lei—she’d fallen asleep, her head wedged between the door and the headrest. Because of that, I tried to take the bumps in the dirt road as slow and easy as I could.
We fell well behind the other two vehicles—but that didn’t matter.
We weren’t a part of whatever came next, and for once, I was glad.
“Nainoa Emerson,” my fiancé said softly, leaning forward to speak to me; Lei didn’t stir. “He built his career trying to serve the Hawaiian people. Make up for some of what his family did in taking so much land.”
So that was what he’d been mulling on.
“Mmm.” I glanced in the rearview mirror and met Keone’s eyes briefly as I whispered.
“Maybe. We don’t know much about him, and he didn’t mention if he was interrogated about the carvings and what they meant.
And as we established, he’s one of only a handful of people who could interpret them for the Chang operation. ”
“Yeah. Seems like a big omission if they did try to get him to interpret the carvings.”
“It’s a police matter now,” Lei said; clearly she hadn’t been sleeping. “Let Malia do her job. She’ll get whatever we need to know out of him.”
“I like your confidence in her,” I said.
Lei shifted her position and sighed. “I’ve been doing this cop thing long enough to know I can’t cover everything—and my day has been long enough. Tomorrow seems like more of the same—and my bones want bed. As my kids say, ‘Are we there yet?’”
“Almost.” I braked at the spot where we’d met Dr. Patel; it seemed like a lifetime ago. “Keone, it’s so late. Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said. Our eyes met in the mirror for a heated moment before I turned onto the Hana Highway. Lei stared out the window, deliberately ignoring the vibes as the pearl in the ring on my right hand caught the light from the dash and gleamed like a wink.
Tiki, in her carrier on the back seat beside Keone, began to purr—and she kept that motorboat rumble going all the way home.