“Nothing. That’s the thing. She just woke up from a nap.” Flustered, I run a hand through my hair, annoyed at the pain in my own head. “This lying shit gets a hundred times more complicated than you know. Right down to fucking cat food. Do you know how many different kinds of cat food there are?”
“Come now, you’re being—”
“I do, now,” I interrupt. “Bought one can of every kind because I’ve never owned a cat and have no clue what kind of chow they eat. Then I damn near scared a Boy Scout so bad he almost pissed his pants. All because he was selling popcorn to her when I pulled up, thinking he’d dropped by for Val.”
Did I mention guilt? It’s not a strong enough word for that crap.
If karma’s real, I’m coming back as a sea cucumber.
“What, you left the house with Valerie alone? Where’d you go?” Cash sounds amused. I’m not having it.
“To buy fucking cat food, Einstein! And more pain meds because you won’t give her something stronger than that over-the-counter pill candy. I was all out between Bryce’s banged up knee last week from surfing and this girl tossing them back like Tic Tacs every few hours.”
Just talking about it makes my own head feel like a hammer. Snarling, I pace the room, pinching the bridge of my nose, shaking my head.
“Damn it, Cash, this isn’t working,” I growl. “You can’t just plop some chick smack-dab in my house and say she’s always lived here. Or that I’ve been her ball and chain for fuck only knows how long. It’s not that easy.”
“We knew that when we started,” he says, so calmly I could reach through the phone and slug him. “It’s fine. She’s remembering little details, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“Right. A few more pieces every day. Give her time. Eventually, it’ll all come flooding back,” Cash says with a muffled sigh.
“That’s what worries me. Remembering scares the hell out of her. So does not knowing. I had to make up a load of bull about what she did before the blow to her noggin. You should’ve seen her face.”
I had. Turtles and coffee farming.
Goddammit.
I’m a former SEAL, not some kind of folk singer. I couldn’t think of anything better.
The metal tag gripped in my other hand has me saying, “She remembered the cat’s name.”
“Lovely. Is it Chester Cheetah?”
I grind my teeth. “No, jackass. It’s Savanny. Just like the Savannah breed.”
“Clever.” I can almost picture Cash’s wry smirk. “Anything more useful?”
“No. We’re not that lucky.”
“That’s how it goes with brain trauma and memory loss, I’m afraid. One thing at a time. Little bits here and there. I’m prescribing you a big fat dose of patience, Flint.”
Prescription, my ass. I’ve got his ticket right here, coiled up in a fist I want to throw at the nearest wall.
I look at the golden tag again. It’s the King Heron Fishing logo, all right.
I’ve been down by the docks in Honolulu and Pearl City enough times to know, having seen that big blue bird logo plastered on the sides of the big fishing ships coming into port.
“She’s going to remember more, sooner or later. She’ll know her family tried to kill her.” My anger deflates into this melancholy dread.
How the hell do I deal with that when the time comes?
Not to mention the happy realization I’ve been lying through my teeth to her. The woman would be insane to trust me after that.
“One step at a time, big guy,” Cash says. “I spoke to her mother today.”
I freeze.
Shit, I knew it was coming. Cash and I talked this morning, while Val was still asleep. I’d stretched my Google-fu skills to the max searching the web, set up multiple alerts, and yet no one’s put out a missing person’s report of any kind for any member of the Gerard family. Their yacht still doesn’t show anywhere in port since that night, either.
“Yeah? And what’d you tell her?” I ask.
“Nothing, just asked for Valerie.”
My breath goes tight. “What’d she say? Spit it the fuck out.”
“She didn’t seem concerned. If the mother’s in on it, she’s an incredible liar. She told me Valerie and her brother Ray took the yacht to the Big Island but haven’t arrived yet due to the weather.”
“There hasn’t been any bad weather. I call bull,” I snarl, watching Val through the window.
She’s back in the lounge chair with the cat, gently running long strokes down its back.
“Mrs. Gerard said she’s been trying to call Valerie with no answer. She mentioned Ray calling her up last night and telling her Valerie’s phone isn’t working.”
Ice glazes my spine. “So she’s in on it, too. Her entire family’s scum.”
“No, I don’t think so. She sounded sincerely concerned her daughter hasn’t called, and a strange man like me is asking around. I gave her my best boring clinical impression, a simple request for routine medical records. Apparently, she wasn’t even aware of their plans to take the yacht to the Big Island until talking to Ray yesterday.”
I don’t bother prodding more about how Cash got all that info out of Valerie’s mother. He’s a much better bullshitter than I am, always has been.
His bullshit is more believable, too. If only we could trade places. He’d have come up with something better than turtle tours and coffee farming.
“She says she expects another call tonight,” Cash says.
I stroke my chin, letting it all percolate in my head. I’ve researched the family as deeply as I can. There’s only the mother, Lorelei, Valerie, and Ray.
Some extended family on the mainland, but it appears they’ve been estranged for years. Probably since well before Mr. Gerard died.
“What about the missing ships?” I ask, remembering a few King Heron vessels have come up unaccounted for recently. “Did you hear anything about those?”
“No,” Cash answers. “Not yet. I’ll find a way to follow up if it seems prudent.”
I swallow a groan, hating this waiting game crap.
Not being able to get out in the field, digging deeper into this, kills me. There’s only so much I can learn online. But I can’t leave Val alone for long, this morning all but proved it.
The gate was locked behind me this morning, and getting the notification it’d popped open filled me with a new kind of fear. After jumping down Louie’s throat, I had recognized him.
He’d come over to play with Bryce several times while we were building this place. Bryce could’ve easily showed his little buddy where the hidden keypad is and told him the code. I’ll have to talk to him about that later.
“Flint?” Cash says my name.
“Just thinking. It doesn’t make much sense with the missing ships. Cornaro doesn’t have any good reason to steal ships and commandeer them permanently when Ray’s already working for them. King Heron ships have probably been hauling illicit cargo for years, judging by the rumors.”
“I know,” Cash answers. “There’s obviously more here. Has to be. That’s why you’ll play Watson to my Holmes.”