The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (top e book reader txt) 📕

indicating the vast green lawn. He looked at Kali, bemused. “Not that I can see, anyway. Maybe your holy detective thinks she can see invisible things.”

They ignored his attempt to engage a confrontation. “You cured of your cockfight betting problem?” said Walter. “Word on the street is you’re the top dog when it comes to handicapping fights.”

Angelo threw back his head and laughed. “Now, who on earth told you such a thing?” he asked. He waited, clearly expecting Walter to share his source.

Walter merely smiled. “There’s a police rule: no kissing and telling,” he said. “What you can do is tell me when and where the big fight is supposed to go down.”

Angelo feigned surprise. “Big fight, huh? Guess no one told me. Not that I’d be interested, of course.”

“Some people think you’re the guy pulling all the strings,” said Kali.

He regarded her with contempt, directing his answer to Walter instead. “Who’s ‘some people,’ huh, brah? You just wanna start trouble. That’s all you cops ever wanna do.”

“Maybe we just want to make sure laws don’t get broken,” said Kali.

He swung on her, his voice betraying his disgust. “Whose laws? Roosters doing battle—that’s part of our history. You would know that if you were a real Hawaiian, not some sellout with a badge.”

“You know I’m local, Angelo,” she said.

He was combative. “You no Hawaiian. You just some bleached-out version.” He spat on the ground.

“Am I?” she asked him.

“How far back you go?” he asked in response, now clearly belligerent.

“All the way,” she said, remaining calm. She looked toward the grove of trees. “You know anything about these ‘ulu trees? What we use them for?”

He looked derisively at the fruit hanging from the branches of the tree closest to him. “Breadfruit is food. You stupid or something?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Food. Medicine, too—the sap is good for sprains. But it’s also what the old canoe builders use to seal the joints in their boats.”

“You read that somewhere, lady cop?”

“Where’s the fight, Angelo?” asked Walter, interrupting the direction the exchange had taken.

“Told you, there ain’t no fight.”

“Would you like to come down to the station and make a formal statement to that effect?” asked Walter, growing stern.

“Only if you got a warrant that says I have to,” offered Angelo. He put his hat back on, pulling it firmly toward his ears. He turned toward the mower, reaching into the engine. “Otherwise, this law-abiding man’s got work to do, and you’re wasting my valuable time.”

“That’s fine for right now.” Walter smiled. He winked at Angelo, who glared in return. “But I expect we’ll be seeing you around.”

“Oh yeah? When’s that?”

“When the cock crows, pal,” said Walter. “That’s when.”

CHAPTER 14

It was still dark when Kali woke the following morning. The transition from deep sleep to full consciousness was abrupt and instantaneous. One second she was floating above a placid dream lake, perfectly in harmony with the shimmering surface just beneath her; the next, she was sitting upright, heart pounding. She pushed aside the sheet tangled around her legs and swung her feet to the cool, rough floorboards.

She did a mental check: There was no scent of smoke, no sound of an intruder moving furtively through the adjoining room, no storm wind beating against the roof or walls of the house. She moved quietly across the room and into the hall, peeking into the guest room where Makena lay sleeping, undisturbed.

There was nothing obviously out of place, but something was nevertheless amiss. She saw the outline of Hilo standing at the window, watching her with interest. A soft, hopeful whimper left his lips, indicating that he would be more than happy to accompany her, even at this early hour, if she was interested in going for a walk.

She sensed what had shifted in the atmosphere. The Kilauea volcano on Hawai‘i Island was going to erupt. She stood beside Hilo at the window, looking toward the sloping hill that ran downward to the beach. There was nothing to be seen—the volcano was on the southeastern side of Hawai‘i Island, and both the width of the archipelago’s largest land mass and the wide ‘Alenuihh Channel separating the other island from Maui provided a visual buffer—but she knew that by daylight, the roar beneath the surface of the earth would have released its pent-up molten core, and that smoke and ash from Kilauea’s howling mouth would have formed a thick cloud above its head that could very well become visible as it drifted with the wind currents.

She moved quickly through the house to the front door and down the steps onto the lawn. Hilo padded behind her as she jogged parallel to the ocean, searching in the darkness for the short path through the hill’s vegetation that led to the water. The sea was deep in this spot, and there was very little here in the way of beach. To the left where the ground curved away was the small, natural cove and the short dock where the Gingerfish rested, held fast by her anchor. The thought triggered a mental image of the tiny charms decorating the lonely skeletons on Lna‘i. She shook her head, frustrated.

Farther off, to the right, the hillside dropped steadily to where a jumble of lava rocks formed a crude breakwater, running steadily downward in elevation to a curved arm of wild beach. One long, flat piece of lava rock jutted out from the stack of boulders supporting it. She made her way to it, stepping carefully onto the surface, Hilo close behind.

When she’d been a child, this rock had been her imaginary flying ship—part of a larger universe she’d created where she and a band of cohorts that included her grandmother’s cat launched themselves to other parts of the world, where they were then transformed into heroes who helped those in need. Now, she crouched on the rock, her bare feet pressed against the wet surface. She closed her eyes, bent her head, and clasped her knees.