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

and oddly undamaged by the sun. There was nothing frail about him. He wore his thick hair long and loose around his shoulders. He was slender, but she could see through his short sleeve jersey that his shoulders and upper arms were toned, defined.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever actually met a detective before.” He reached out to shake her hand. “Abraham Waters, but I expect you already know that. And this,” he said, gesturing to the silent man standing behind him, “is my grandson, Nathan. How may I be of service to you?”

Nathan was about twenty, as far as she could tell. There was something childlike about him, unfinished and undefined. She regarded him with interest. The muddy brown of his eyes and his judgmental expression stood out in sharp contrast to the bright, curious light in Abraham’s blue eyes. Kali noted the way his eyes kept darting from her face to the edge of the tattoo encircling her upper arm.

“Did I hear Jake address you as his father?” she asked, remembering that records showed he had a daughter, but that there had been no mention of a son.

“It is a term of respect and familiarity,” he said.

“I see. I understand that you ran a private church on Lna‘i from 1993 until around 2000. You operated it as a commune, correct?”

Abraham smiled again, spreading his arms wide. “A wellness retreat center. Commune has such a negative connotation, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’re asking if I shared a small farmstead with other members of my family, and if I preached the Good Word to those whose hearts were open to hearing God’s message?”

“I’m asking you if you accepted financial and other donations from people not related to you, and if those people also lived with you on your farmstead.”

“We are all related. You are both my daughter and my sister.”

She returned his gaze, unblinking. “I am neither of those things.”

“Then you are a heathen, and you’re going to hell. You have carved your body with the marks of the devil!” It was Nathan who spoke, his voice thick with venom. He raised his volume, pointing at Kali’s arm in condemnation. “You shall not make any cuts in your body for the dead nor make any tattoo marks on yourselves: I am the Lord. Leviticus 19:28.”

“It’s all right, Nathan,” said Abraham. He reached up and placed his hand gently on the boy’s outstretched hand, pushing it down so that it was no longer pointed at Kali. “Not everyone has heard the laws set forth by God. We must be generous and patient.” He turned to Kali. “My grandson is passionate about the teachings of the Bible.”

Kali felt her skin crawl. She thought of all the crime and pain and fear she had seen in the world that had sprung from the arrogance of those who felt entitled to judge others, or to disregard the sovereign rights of those around them. When the arrogance was rooted in religion, she found it particularly repugnant. She also knew it was generally a waste of time to point out to any kind of fanatic that there was almost always more than one viewpoint to be considered.

“Have you reestablished your commune here on Maui, Mr. Waters?”

“As I’ve just explained, what you refer to as a commune is, to me, a home where my family dwells.”

“Then tell me, please, who dwells here besides you?” She met his eyes, tilting her head slightly, ignoring Nathan’s glare.

“My wife, Ruth, and our daughter, Abigail, share this place with me.”

“And the farm? Jake and the two young women helping him today? Where do they dwell?”

Abraham smiled. “Elsewhere.”

She felt her temper flare. “Elsewhere on the property, or elsewhere on the island?”

“I’m afraid I don’t feel compelled to keep track of the comings and goings of those kind and generous souls who come to help with picking fruit and harvesting the crops from our gardens.” He leaned forward slightly. “If you like, Nathan would be happy to show you our little patch of lettuces and herbs. The basil is doing especially well right now.”

She was careful to not look at Nathan, or to let her voice reflect the distaste she felt at the idea of him acting as a tour guide. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “However, I’d like to speak with your daughter while I’m here.”

He nodded. “Of course. Abigail is home. If you follow the pathway just past the gardens, you’ll see her cottage.”

Again, she ignored the boy. “And Abigail is Nathan’s mother?”

“Yes. Though we take a more village-based approach to raising our children.”

“We?”

“Those of us who have gathered as a community.”

His voice was lulling, seductive. Trickster, she thought, imagining the Hawaiian god Kaulu whose powers included killing with a song, and ensnaring young goddesses. Kaulu possessed a powerful and deadly combination of immortality and a predilection for violence. She watched Abraham as he spoke. His eyes were steady and unblinking. She shook herself, breaking the spell, understanding how he had successfully lured others into trusting him enough to surrender not only their possessions, but also decisions about their lives and families. Instead of being disarmed, she felt repelled.

“Ah,” she said. “Well, it certainly sounds as though your—shall we say program—has enjoyed a revival since your time on Lna‘i.”

Abraham shrugged. His eyes suggested he recognized that she would not easily be susceptible to his efforts to charm her.

“We’ll talk more,” she said. “Soon. Meanwhile, enjoy your day.”

She closed the screen door firmly behind her. As she walked down onto the lawn in search of the path mentioned by Abraham, she was aware that Nathan was framed in the doorway, watching her as she walked away.

CHAPTER 22

The path crossed a small stream that was spanned by a long, wide plank of wood. Kali stepped carefully, crossing the makeshift bridge and approaching the cottage. It was in poor repair. She found herself mentally criticizing Nathan for not being a better, more useful son when it came to his