A smile lit her eyes. “Thank you, Donovan. That’s a very nice thing to say.”
“It’s the truth,” he said simply as he glanced up at the rearview mirror, not at all surprised to see the sedan still following at a discreet distance.
19
The car continued to stick with them later that evening, parking nearby when they attended a showing of Thomas Breslin’s paintings at the Orchid Island Gallery. Donovan had been to several gallery shows over the years but none as unique as this one.
The white walls were covered with abstract paintings, all of which were as colorful as they were horrendous. Watching Thomas circulate through the crowd, drinking in the enthusiastic compliments, Donovan decided that he had never seen a happier man. To no one’s surprise, it appeared that the show would sell out before a family dinner at the Breslin home.
“Would you be very angry at me if I showed up a little late to the dinner?” Donovan asked, taking Lani aside. She’d glammed up for the occasion in a dress-style version of a Chinese tunic, slit on the side to reveal an enticing glimpse of golden thigh. The blaze of color would have put a bird of paradise to shame. “I need to slip away for a short while.”
“Of course not. I can always get a ride with Mom and Dad. Or Margaret and Kai, who’ll be joining us, since he’s essentially become part of the family. Where are you going?”
“I want to try to get a line on those pirates.”
“Tonight? Won’t the trail be awfully cold?” Lani privately prided herself on knowing the proper investigative jargon. All those years of faithfully watching Magnum P.I. and Hawaii 5-0 every week were beginning to pay off.
“I suspect Britton’s probably heated it up,” Donovan replied.
“Donovan, people know you’re looking for Ford. You could be in danger, too.”
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“And what, exactly, are you doing?”
“Going back to The Blue Parrot,” he informed her reluctantly. It was bad enough that Lani had walked into that dive in the middle of the afternoon. He damned well didn’t want her showing up there at night.
Despite his reassuring words, Lani was overcome with a growing sense of anxiety. “Not alone, you’re not.”
“I’m not taking you with me, Lani. Not this time.”
“But—”
“No.”
Lani had spent enough time with Donovan to know when arguing would be fruitless. He was, after all, a professional. And the FBI didn’t hire pushovers. She put her hand on his arm. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Donovan decided it was nice to have someone worry about him. “Absolutely.” He kissed her. “See you in a bit.”
Lani seemed about to say something else but instead merely nodded. Despite his reassuring words as he left the gallery, she couldn’t forget that night so many years ago when he had crept through a dark and dangerous warehouse. Alone.
* * *
The clientele didn’t seem to have changed, but the shifts must have, because there was a different guy behind The Blue Parrot’s bar. The anchor and eagle tattoo on his forearm went along with the aloha shirt printed with various U.S. Navy ships.
“I was wondering when you’d get back,” he said, when Donovan sat down on a stool. “Adam, he’d be the bartender you met earlier, told me you and Lani had been in here looking for my cousin.”
“You’re Ford Britton’s cousin?”
“Yeah. He was born on Kauai, but he’s spent a lot of time since high school skipping around the islands. My name’s Nick.”
He proceeded to explain a complex line of family connections that Donovan didn’t even try to follow, but being a hot shot soon-to-be-special-agent detective, he’d already figured out family ties meant a lot more on this island than they did in other places.
“And you’d be Donovan Quinn. Nate’s detective friend from Oregon.”
“News gets around.”
“When you’re on an island, it goes round and round and round,” he said. “I’m guessing you haven’t met my cuz?”
“No. He’d already gone missing when I arrived on the island.”
“Yeah. I heard Taylor hired you. Which kind of pissed me off, because she could’ve come to me, being that I’m also a law enforcement professional, but I guess she was afraid I’d feel obliged to tell the chief.”
“You’re a cop?”
“Yeah. It was a natural fit being that Uncle Sam decided to put me into Shore Patrol. Which comes in handy working here from time to time. If there’s anything that gig teaches, it’s how to handle drunks… You going to order anything?”
“I wouldn’t turn down one of those bikini beers.”