Chapter 15

The narrow,potholed track out to the hermit's place seemed even more impassable than it'd been a few days earlier. Between my last trip out there and now, numerous vehicles had gouged deep ruts in the soft mud and torn through the bushes, leaving branches and rocks strewn across the pitted roadway.

I slowed as I approached the area where the hermit's shack had once stood, leaning forward to peer through Sharkey's windshield.

The entire zone was unrecognizable from what it had looked like only a few days ago. At the end of the road, vegetation was virtually nonexistent, and the few blackened tree trunks left standing seemed like eerie witch fingers pointing to the blue sky above. I marveled that the intense green I'd observed when I'd been there before had been replaced by shades of gray; it was as if I'd seen a movie in color, and now I was watching it again in black and white. The sounds of birds and the swish of palms were gone, too. Eerie silence reigned.

I parked and got out, immediately assaulted by the reek of charred, wet wood and a chemical smell that stung my nostrils.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Where the dwelling had once stood, there was a hole torn into the earth larger than the footprint of the house and over a foot deep.

I gazed at the swimming-pool-sized crater before me, unable to fathom the magnitude of what it would've taken to cause such destruction.

"You can't be here." I could swear I heard a low-pitched voice behind me, and I jerked around to see the speaker, shivering at the unnerving recollection that those were the same words the hermit had greeted me with a few days earlier.

A young firefighter in full gear covered in soot raised a pike pole and pointed it toward the crater. He resembled a medieval knight getting ready to joust. "No civilians on the premises," he said.

I drew myself up; sure enough I was taller. I tapped the ID badge I wore on a lanyard around my neck. "I'm Kat Smith, Ohia Postmaster."

"This is a secure area. No one's allowed to be out here except the fire and federal investigators."

"Federal agents have been called in?"

"Yeah." The young guy had fresh pink cheeks; he was just a kid. He glanced around as if checking to see if he'd be written up for disclosing unauthorized information, but we were the only people there. "The whole nine yards are on this thing. FBI, ATF, Homeland Security. And those are just the ones I remember."

"Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms has been called in, too?"

"Yeah. From what I've gathered this wasn't a normal propane tank explosion. Whoever did this knew what they were doing when they set up the explosion. I heard they found evidence of magnesium ribbon."

"I'm not following."

Again, the guy swiveled his head to ensure he wasn't being overheard, then stepped closer. He couldn't resist being the one in the know. "I'm new at Maui Fire," he said. "That's why I got this lousy detail securing the scene. But I just passed the Firefighter One test and I had to know the ignition and burn temps of extremely flammable materials. Magnesium's a big one. Ignites at about eight hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit and burns at over three thousand. It's almost impossible to extinguish, and very unlikely to be in the house by accident."

I still wasn't sure what he was getting at, but I nodded to encourage him to keep talking.

"See that white powder over there?" He pointed with the metal pole. "That's what's left of a roll of mag ribbon that was laid throughout this place. You get a fire going after you've laced it with stuff like that and, once it's out, you've got nothing left."

"Three thousand degrees, huh?" My stomach pitched. They'd never know if human remains were mixed in here.

"That's what I'm saying. Twice the temp of a cremation furnace."

My spine tingled with shock as he confirmed what I'd suspected. I thanked him for his time and stumbled back to my SUV. I somehow managed to turn around without landing in the crater, but I had no recollection of the drive back to Ohia.

* * *

Back at the K K office, I was too upset to do the follow-up I'd promised Sophie with the small job she wanted us to complete; instead I donned my swimsuit and did laps in the Bay until I felt calmer.

I was getting dressed after a shower when Keone arrived with takeout from a Hana food truck. I texted Aunt Fae that I wouldn't be home for dinner, then gave Keone a hug.

"I went out to the explosion site right after work," I told him immediately; I had to get it over with.

His jaw tightened and his eyes flashed, but he said nothing, just dropped the bag of food on the table.

"There's absolutely nothing left," I went on. "I've seen photos of the aftermath of IEDs in Iraq, but this was ten times worse. Complete devastation. Just a hole in the ground, and everything around the area burned."

"Kat, I asked you to wait until we could go together." Keone gestured to his T-shirt and jeans. "I was hoping we could go now."

"I don't want to ever see that place again," I said fervently.

"Banana," he said.

I dropped into my chair at the table. ‘Banana' was our safe word, something we invoked when we had an awkward topic to navigate. "Okay. Lay it on me."

Keone sat down across from me. He moved the bag of Bruddah Hutt's barbecue aside so he could make eye contact and paused as if to choose his words carefully. "I'm guessing this situation is reminding you of what happened to you as a kid. A child was in danger and you want to help. That's why you're so driven to find answers. Would you be willing to talk to someone about this situation?"

"You mean Lei?"

"No, I mean a psychologist. A therapist. Someone like that."

"Why is everyone trying to push me toward counseling? First Aunt Fae and now you. Are you telling me I'm crazy?" My voice rose.

"Not at all. I'm saying you shouldn't have to deal with this on your own."

"I'm not. I'm talking to you."

"Are you, though?" Mr. K reached out to take my hand, but I yanked it back as if he'd threatened me with a hot branding iron. "See? This is really messing with you. All the progress you've made up ‘til now has been stolen from us by what happened out there."

For years, I'd managed to pass the Secret Service psych exam without anyone picking up on my touchphobia. Now it was hard to admit I'd regressed—that it wasn't just me being hurt.

"I appreciate your concern," I said. "But I prefer DIY when it comes to processing the ugly stuff that comes with the job."

Keone seemed to lose his patience at last. "I sure hope your appendix doesn't burst," he said.

"What?"

"I'd hate to see what kind of a job you'd do on yourself with DIY surgery." He stood up and strode out, closing the front door extra quietly as if to keep from slamming it.

I stayed seated. "That wasn't nice," I whispered.

Once I heard the rumble of his truck's engine disappear, I glanced up at the ceiling of the tiny kitchen in the shack to see Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the resident geckos, peering down at me with pitying expressions.

"What do you know?" I said. "You hang out up there catching bugs and doing your little push-ups. It's way harder down here."

I opened the bag and took out the Styrofoam container holding one of the kalua pig, rice, and steamed cabbage "plate lunches" the food truck was known for. I ate quickly. Hopefully Aunt Fae would want the other one; if not, it would make a nice lunch the next day.

As I stepped out onto the flat beach rock that served as the shack's front porch and turned to lock the door, I felt a presence behind me.

I whirled to check out what it was, stepping out to the edge of the tiny porch onto the beach rock front step, and felt something throw me off. My knee buckled as my bare foot slid off the rock's uneven surface. I windmilled my arms and dropped the bag of takeout. It felt like it took minutes, rather than seconds, to go down, but when I did it was with a bone-crunching thwomp. I lay there, splayed out, attempting to pull air into my lungs. The pain in my side, and my head, made it impossible.

Flashes of light. Then darkness.