“Could I make a couple of phone calls?” Storm asked.
Someone handed her a phone and she punched in Hamlin’s cell number.
His voice was ragged with worry. “Storm, where are you?”
“On the beach, in the medical tent. Where are you?”
“Leaving Sunny’s house. Are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m all right. I’ll tell you when you get here.”
Storm’s next call was to Brian Chang. He was out in the field, but she left a message for him, then one for Detectives Ursley and Yamamoto.
When Hamlin burst into the tent, she was having a third cup of hot chocolate and wearing one of the contest’s logo T-shirts in a long-sleeved style. The Intrepid blazed across her chest in orange. Underneath, except for the emerald-eyed pig, she was nude, which felt a lot better than her clammy bathing suit bottoms and stiff, salt-encrusted hair.
Hamlin hugged her hard, let her go for a few minutes to listen to her story, then grabbed her again. One of the EMTs filled in with the part about the C & C rescue board, which had prompted the helicopter to look for a rider not entered in the contest. No one had seen an old City & County jet ski.
“Ian,” Storm muffled into his shoulder, “could we go back to the cottage? I want a hot bath and dry clothes.”
Hamlin went after his car, and bundled her in. He wrapped her in a big towel from her beach bag, which he’d been carrying around since she disappeared. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m tired, but I’m okay. Hamlin, I was really frightened, but I was even madder than I was scared. I wish I’d seen who did this to me.”
Hamlin’s eyes glinted with fury, and he was about to respond when Storm’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of the beach bag. “Hi Brian, I’m glad you got my message. It’s got to be the same person who killed Nahoa. I think it might be O’Reilly.”
“Why do you say that?” Brian asked.
“Goober told me to talk to him.”
“Storm, sit tight. Leila, Robbie, and I will be there in a few hours. Meanwhile, I’ll get hold of someone in the North Shore Patrol District to come take a report.”
Storm hung up and snuggled next to Hamlin. “All I want is a hot bath and to know that Goober is okay.”
“I want to find the asshole who did this to you.” Though he kept his eyes on the road, she could see the simmering rage in his narrow gaze.
“Me, too.” Storm frowned. “Word is going to get out that Goober rescued me, and he’s going to be the next target.”
“The police will find Goober,” Hamlin said. He looked over at her. “Unless he doesn’t want to be found.”
Storm chewed her lip. “He risked his life to come after me. He’s not going to leave town.”
“You’re sure? He’s a kid who avoids authority.”
“He’ll help.”
Hamlin still looked doubtful. “I hope you’re right.”
“I hope he’s safe.”
The car’s dashboard clock read 5:14. It would be dark in an hour, and Kamehameha Highway was clogged with departing spectators. Storm chewed a hangnail and observed Hamlin hunched over the steering wheel as if he could will the traffic to move faster.
Maybe they needed to think about something else. “What happened with the surf contest? Is everyone else okay?”
Hamlin leaned back, but tapped one hand on the wheel impatiently. “Kimo Hitashi is leading, but one of the Australians is only three points behind,” Hamlin said. “Another guy needed fifteen stitches when he wiped out and his surfboard cut his head, and there was a search on for another surfer who had been swamped by a big wave.”
Hamlin looked over at her. “Come to think of it, Barstow and a group of lifeguards asked O’Reilly to close down the meet an hour early. They were concerned because the wind was coming up and waves were getting blown out. It took some persuading before O’Reilly agreed.”
“How’d Ben do?”
Hamlin shrugged. “He’s got a few more points than his partner, the guy with the tattoos. They made the cut for the finals, but they’re not in the top three.”
“Did Barstow look happy?”
“He looked tense all day. Even the TV announcers picked up on it.”
“Maybe he and O’Reilly haven’t been seeing eye to eye for a while. Plus, he’s got to be worried about Ben.”
Which brought her thoughts back to Goober. O’Reilly would know that Goober had rescued her and was being sought by various rescue teams. The boy’s peripatetic habits were known to his friends, but how many of them knew that his last residence had been O’Reilly’s guest apartment? And what if he went back there for his belongings?
Both Hamlin and Storm, lost in their concerns, were quiet for the rest of the drive. At the cottage, Storm headed directly to the hot shower, and when she got out, two uniformed HPD officers were waiting in the cottage living room.
“We’ll file a report with the detectives on your case,” one officer told Storm. “They may give you a call later, but they’re out on another case.”
Storm repeated her account of how she was attacked and put in the cave while the officers recorded her statement.
“Have you found Goober?” she asked when she was finished. “He saved me.”
“No, and we’re looking,” the officer said. “We’ve got people posted along the shoreline. There’s even a Coast Guard helicopter searching.”
When the officers left, Storm sank into the sofa. For a few minutes, she looked out of the cozy, brightly lit room, past the lanai, toward the blackness of the pounding ocean. “Hamlin, we’ve got to look for him.”
“You heard the police. They’ve even got one of the big choppers involved.”
Storm sat quietly for a few moments. Hamlin had brought a glass of wine, and she sipped it. She was grateful the authorities were out there, but she and his friends knew more about him. And she couldn’t forget how he’d come when she needed help.
She took Hamlin’s hand and squeezed it. “Please don’t be upset with me, but I can’t sit here and wonder where he is.”
She picked up the phone on the end table next to the sofa. Sunny’s answering machine picked up after four rings. “Sunny, call me back. It’s important.” She left the same message on Sunny’s cell phone.
“Hamlin, I want to drive by O’Reilly’s place.”
Hamlin shook his head. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got a couple of questions for him. I also want to watch his reaction when he sees me.”
“Storm, it’s too dangerous.”
“I doubt he’ll be alone. And we’ll call Brian and tell him what we’re doing.”
“Brian called while you were in the shower. They’re on the road, but they ran into an accident on the H-2, around Wahiawa. Traffic’s backed up. They’ll be here around eight.”
“We’ll still tell Brian where we’re going. He can tell the North Shore police. O’Reilly isn’t going to do anything if you’re there and we tell him the cops are on the way. But our showing up may keep him from hurting Goober.”
“Storm, you’ve had a hell of a day.”
“I’ll be okay. You’ll be with me. Hamlin, I owe Goober.”
Hamlin paced the floor. “We don’t go in his house, agreed?”
“Right,” Storm said. “We’ll talk to him outside.”
***
Traffic from Laniakea to Chun’s Reef was lighter than it had been when everyone was trying to get to the surf contest, but there were still more cars on the road than usual. It was seven o’clock and dark. Most people were headed toward them, out for a Saturday night in Haleiwa.
It took Storm and Hamlin about fifteen minutes to reach O’Reilly’s neighborhood. Except for a light over the door, the house was dark.
“He’s probably at dinner,” Hamlin said, and pulled into the drive next to a dark Porsche Boxter. Storm couldn’t tell if it was black or navy.
“I’m going to knock, anyway.”
“I’m going with you.” Hamlin got out of the car. “Looks like he’s got an awesome view.”
“It’s a great house.” Storm rapped on the front door, waited a few seconds, then tried the doorbell twice. They were about to leave when they heard soft footsteps approaching the door.
Ben opened it, and stood wordlessly in the dark foyer. Even in shadow, his face looked blotchy. “Storm. It’s you,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He didn’t sound glad, and Storm could smell alcohol on his breath from five feet away. She felt a creeping dread. “Is Goober here?” she asked.
Ben shook his head, and when he spoke his voice cracked. “His body washed ashore down past Kalalua Point.”
Storm felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She sagged against Hamlin, who put his arm around her. “Oh, no,” was all she could say.
“When?” Hamlin asked. His voice was shaky.
“Dad just called, but I guess some people walking the shoreline found him about a half hour ago.”
“Where’s your dad?” Hamlin asked.
“Having dinner with O’Reilly and some of the media people.”
“Where did they go?” she asked.
“Where’d they go?” Ben looked down at his bare feet and seemed to ponder the question. “Probably Damien’s or Rosie’s Diner.”