“A-are you ill, girl? You look pale. Are you certain you’ve seen a good doctor?” Mother follows, all questions, stuttering as she walks.
I can’t speak.
New flashbacks keep hammering my head, frying it like a freaking egg.
So many times over the years when I was told to be quiet, to shut up, that I didn’t know what I was talking about.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gerard,” Flint tells her. “She just needs to rest. The doctor said it’ll take time to fully heal.”
“Rest? Then she needs to stay here and see our doctor!” Mother says, her heels clicking after us. “Young man, you can’t just—”
Flint opens the door, walking me outside, beaming back a look that halts her mid-step.
“She’s been in great hands ever since the accident. She just wanted you to know she was okay. We’ll take it from here.”
The air, the sunshine, feels like sweet freedom. The flashbacks and pain drift away, little by little.
I glance up at Flint.
He winks at me, then tells my mother, “She’ll call you later, after she’s rested. I promise.”
“She knows more, Flint.” I wait until we’re in his truck, heading for the main road, before I say it.
“Is your memory coming back? Is that what happened back there?”
“No, not really. More like hints of images, little things, but I know. She knows more than she lets on.” Pressing a hand to my chest where there’s a heaviness, a fear, I sigh.
“Val?” he barks, glancing over.
“I feel it, Flint. She’s always known more, but she’s taught herself to deny it.”
12
Here Comes Trouble (Flint)
I can’t answer her.
I’m keeping one eye in my rear-view mirror, trained on the SUV that turned onto the street behind us shortly after we left the Gerard beach house. A house that was so damn dark and cloying inside I felt like I needed to squint in order to see anything.
I can’t believe Val ever had any say in how it was decorated, especially after seeing what she’d done with the upstairs bedrooms in my house. They’re light, cheerful, and breezy like her. Hardly the luxury bunker vibe that place had.
The SUV hangs close, even after I take a few corners. I know my man is back there, too, following just like I told him, but now I’m concerned about cutting through the center of the island to get back to my place.
Those roads are a lot less trafficked than the main highways. More than a few places where a vehicle could be forced off the road and over the cliffs with one or two well-timed punches of metal on metal.
“Those missing ships you mentioned to my mother, they’re King Heron boats, aren’t they?” she asks.
“Right,” I answer, taking yet another corner tighter, weaving my way through town.
“Are they recent?”
Shit. The SUV is still there.
It’s like they want me to know they’re trailing us.
“Depends what you mean by recent?” I ask.
“Since my accident?”
“Nope. No ships have turned up missing that recently, though there have been some shady shipments moving in and out of King Heron facilities around Pearl City,” I say.
I’m sure they’ve throttled back on sending more ships out to sea loaded with illicit cargo, into potential crossfire from rival groups. Not while they’re hunting her to make damn sure she can’t squeal.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” she asks, almost reading my thoughts. “They don’t know who I’ve told about them, if Ray thinks I was working with the police. Unless he said something, they don’t know about the amnesia.”
Bingo.
Too bad they’re catching up fast.
And the bastards are still behind us now very literally, closing in.
“Should we contact the police? The Coast Guard? Tell them what I do know? What I remember?”
“We don’t have any hard evidence, babe.” My eyes flick from the SUV in the mirrors to her, trying not to freak her out. “We’re missing the full story. Until we get clues or you recall something truly damning, we’re stuck on half empty.”
She sighs. “You’re right. We don’t know, so the police wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
“No, and scumbags like these have tendrils going deep. Police, government, you name it. If we do get a solid lead, we’ve got to make sure it gets to the right person—somewhere that isn’t compromised.” Tiring of this cat and mouse game, I say, “Check your seatbelt for me. Make sure it’s buckled.”
Val looks down. “Yup. All strapped in. Why?”
She notices my eyes are glued to the rear-view mirror.
“Just trust me, and don’t turn around,” I growl.
Her expression goes numb. “Jesus. Are we being followed, Flint?”
“We’ll find out real soon. Hang on.” I press down on the gas, pushing my truck faster.
The speed limits are notoriously low in Hawaii. I’m well over thirty-five miles per hour now.
I’ve got two options: either head through the next town, where speeding like this could pose a real risk of causing an accident, or take the next turn off the unpaved road flanked with tall, wild grass. An organic farming zone, I’m pretty sure, judging by the KEEP THE COUNTRY COUNTRY signs, plus some abandoned military digs.