“Seems a convoluted way to go about it. Just tell the truth and ask for police protection. Talk to a reporter for added protection.”
“I don’t have any proof. It would be just my word against theirs. If you find out what’s going on, there would be something to go on.”
“You’re not making any sense. How could having a casino on the island lead you to steal your wife’s research?”
Noah hesitated. “Jillian’s research—the research that didn’t get published—concluded that a new magma chamber was growing under the area they want to develop.”
“Weren’t they concerned all their money would be thrown away if an eruption occurred?”
“At this stage, they’d lose more if word got out. They’re neck-deep in contracts. Besides, I told them what they wanted to hear— that it was likely flawed data.”
“Is it?”
Noah shrugged. “Maybe. It’s hard to say. Jillian is a good vol-canologist, but even if she’s right, it wouldn’t happen for years.”
“I didn’t think these things could be predicted so easily.”
“They can’t. I doubted that anything would happen in the next twenty years. They’d rake in millions before it happened—if it ever did. And money was tight. My company was downsizing; my job was on the chopping block. I had to do something. So I took their money and published the research as my own. I hadn’t counted on Jillian throwing such a tantrum.”
“You’re an idiot,” Mano said. “You trashed Jillian’s professional reputation, then expected her to forget it?”
“I miscalculated.” A muscle in Noah’s jaw flexed.
“What about publishing a retraction? That should be simple enough. You don’t need me for that.”
Noah shook his head. “They’d make sure I never got it to print.”
Mano blinked slowly as he thought. “What’s the area in question?”
“They’re buying up Aloha Shores and several private tracts. The Tagama’s land and the mountain just behind it.”
Mano hadn’t heard of any offers to buy the Tagama land. Then he thought of the money in Tomi’s bankbook. Had he secretly sold the family’s land to the casino? Alarm should be setting his nerves on edge, but a strange lethargy played havoc with his thoughts. He realized his blood sugar was still too low. He just had to hold on until it climbed a bit more. He popped a hard candy from the bedside table into his mouth.
“Want one?” he offered to Noah. Before Noah could answer, he heard glass shatter. Something stung the side of his face. He put up his hand and touched something wet on his temple. His fingers were red when he lowered them. He stared at them. Blood.
Something pinged on the wall, and what was happening finally penetrated his foggy brain. “Get down!” He dove for the floor. Another bullet plowed into the carpet by his head. He heard a series of soft thuds and saw Noah running for the door. “Wait!” Mano called. He got to his hands and knees as Noah threw open the door and rushed out into the shadows.
Mano staggered to his feet. His head was spinning, and the heat on his cheek told him he was still bleeding. The shooting had stopped. He stepped to the doorway and looked outside. Taillights winked in the darkness as Noah’s vehicle pulled onto the street.
He heard the sound of running feet and instinctively stepped back and slammed his door shut. A thump came from the other side of the door. “You okay in there?”
Relief as sweet as guava nectar flooded him. It was the motel proprietor, Aaron. Mano opened the door. “Someone shot at us. Call the police.” His head spun, and he stumbled back toward the bed. Lights danced in his vision like menehunes with tiny lamps. He sank to the edge of the bed and put his head between his legs, then fumbled for another piece of candy. He sucked on the sweetness, hoping his confusion would soon lift.
“I’ll call an ambulance too.” Aaron stepped inside and grabbed the phone.
Mano dimly heard him speak to the police in an excited tone. Gradually the sugar began to make a difference, and his thinking cleared. Aaron handed him a tissue from the bathroom. He took it and blotted the blood from his cheek.
“You’d better not touch anything,” he told Aaron. “The police will need to sweep the room.” Most likely they wouldn’t find anything but bullet fragments. But there might be something outside. In the distance he could hear sirens. They grew louder, and he stood to go meet the police, then swayed.
“I think you’d better sit down before you fall.” Aaron caught him by the elbow.
“I’m fine.” He tried to tug his arm from Aaron’s grip, and the movement made the room spin. He sat back on the bed. The sirens grew louder, and he smelled the scent of something he couldn’t identify—something sweet yet cloying that filled his head and sinuses. He shook his head to clear it, then put his head between his legs again.
Dimly, he heard the sirens stop. He lifted his head when Sam came running through the door. The officer had his pistol out. His face changed when he saw Mano.