The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📗

The petroglyphs that Tua had referenced were located on a slope on the volcano’s side. She drove for about ten minutes before pulling the car over onto a clear patch of rough ground that had plainly been used as a parking area by others. They got out, making their way toward a hill rising above the plains of Palawai Basin, following a rugged track leading upward. The footing was slippery, and their feet skidded on the loose scree that covered the path’s surface. Walter grumbled in protest as he kept up with her.

It didn’t take long to find what Kali was looking for. On the face of a giant rocky monolith rising from the ground at the foot of the volcano was a collection of ancient petroglyphs. The original carvings had been desecrated in areas, and other, newer graffiti carvings had been added, but she had no difficulty identifying the original art. Her grandmother had written about these petroglyphs, commonly known as the Luahiwa carvings, and had interviewed other historians and archaeologists in the preparation of her highly respected work on Hawaiian culture. She’d read to a younger Kali from the book’s pages, and Kali had studied the photographs closely. Eventually, her grandmother had taken her across the channel to see them for herself, and to offer a child’s point of view on what the carvings represented.

Even among learned academics, there was no consensus on their meanings. Kali had been taught that they were likely a record of life on the island—a time capsule of events that were significant to the island’s inhabitants, ranging from a collection of warrior figures, various animals, and boats. She searched among them, finally pinpointing the anchor carving that Tua had referenced. It was located not far from the carving he’d mentioned of what appeared to be a vessel of some kind, set into the stone face about eight feet from the ground and measuring nearly six inches across its base. Like a few of the other petroglyphs, its outline had been darkened by someone who’d dragged a burnt matchstick along the edge to define the shape and features—a practice frowned upon by historians attempting to protect the area from alteration and damage.

Kali and Walter studied the anchor image, comparing it to the photo of the anchor charm stored on her phone. Other than the slightly uneven lines of the stone carving and the small hole in the metal anchor, they were very much the same. She punched in Tomas’s number, waiting for his answer as she and Walter followed the stony path back to the car.

Tomas’s voice sounded even more tired than it had the last time they’d spoken.

“Don’t tell me you’re lost,” he said. “I won’t believe you, though I would understand completely if you were at least trying. It’s hotter than hell here in the fields.”

“Funny you should mention hell,” she said. “Do you remember a local church group here that used to go around knocking on people’s doors?”

He laughed. “That description’s not specific enough, I’m afraid.”

“This particular church isn’t active anymore, but they were while the pineapple production was still strong. Also, Bill Bragden’s son-in-law went missing after Bragden’s daughter died. Bill made some allegations about domestic abuse. Do you remember hearing anything about that?”

There was silence as Tomas mulled over her questions.

“That was too long ago for me,” he finally said. “I think you should talk to Bobby Keawe. He’s retired now, and is in pretty poor health, but he was Lna‘i’s Maui County cop back then. He’s in a nursing home over on O‘ahu near his kids and their families, but he’d be happy to talk to you, I’m sure. I’ll bet he’s been following the news here pretty closely.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Had a stroke. Can’t live alone anymore because of partial paralysis, but there’s nothing wrong with his memory.”

“Do you know if Keawe worked the missing persons case?”

“He was the only cop here at the time, so he was bound to have been involved.”

“Okay. Text me his contact details?”

“Will do. Where are you, anyway?”

“Up at the Luahiwa petroglyphs. Something very like our anchor is carved into the big rock up here.”

There was a low whistle from the other end of the phone. “Damn. Why didn’t I think of that connection?”

“There may not be any.”

“Still. Keeps popping up, doesn’t it? Be careful driving back. Lots of deer roaming around up there.”

The image of the pig smeared across the road back on Maui flashed through her mind. “Yeah, I will be,” she said. “See you in a bit.”

* * *

They headed back toward the pineapple field, with Kali driving.

“Do you remember Bobby Keawe at all?” she asked. “Tomas said he was here on Lna‘i, but going back a while.”

“Yeah, but only vaguely. He was getting close to retirement when I knew him, though he was still running things over here.”

“He’s not in the best of health, and is in a care facility over on O‘ahu somewhere. Tomas is sending his contact info. We should find out about that old missing person’s case involving Matthew Greene, and see if Keawe knows anything about churches that were in business over here while the plantations were still active. I feel like the anchor may be connected to them.”

“You want me to call him?”

“Do you mind? Maybe he’ll remember you.”

“Sure. As soon as you have his number, send it along. Meanwhile, you can drop me off at the harbor. I’m taking the launch back to Maui.”

“Okay. I’ll be back at the hotel for the evening, so let me know after you’ve talked to him.”

“Do we have a name for the church?”

“No, but I’m hopeful that maybe Bobby does.”

* * *

Kali left Walter at the dock and returned Tomas’s car to the makeshift parking area at the command center along the pineapple field’s edge. She found him and made her request that he send Bobby Keawe’s contact information directly to Walter, then tracked down