Wide-eyed the child stared at Greg for a long moment, then she beamed at him and reached out her chubby little arms. “Gra-a-a.”
“This is Molly,” Lucky said, offering him the chance to hold the child.
He tried to move away, but Molly shrieked, “Gra-a-a.”
He swung her into his arms, then gave her a little bounce that made Molly squeal with glee. There was something natural in the way Greg handled the child that told Lucky that he had experience with children, or maybe he was just comfortable with them, the way he was with animals.
“Let me drive Lucky back to your place,” Sarah suggested. “That way you can go right to the rescue site.”
“Good idea,” Greg replied as he passed Molly back to her mother. He pulled a money clip out of his pocket and took out several bills. “Could you run Lucky by Kmart and get
her a one-piece suit that’s…
you know, decent?”
Lucky opened her mouth to say she could da
rn
well pick out her own suit, but he was out the door before she had the chance. Anger erupted inside her, but she mastered it, wondering yet again about the source of her hostility. He was only trying to help her. She turned and saw Sarah smiling like a miser who suddenly discovered gold.
“Well, I’ll be. Greg’s finally getting over the bit—” Sarah stopped abruptly, then said, “Little ones tend to pick up all those naughty words.”
Sarah had been about to say
bitch,
Lucky thought as she followed her into the kitchen. Did she mean Jessica Braxton
had been a bitch? It didn’t seem likely.
“
Greg still has Jessica’s picture on his desk.”
Sarah put Molly on the floor and the child toddled across the room, swaying from side to
side like a drunken sailor. “
On his desk, huh? I’m not surprised. He’s too stubborn to admit he made a mistake.”
She gestured for Lucky to take a seat at the butcher-block table. Sitting, Lucky glanced around the kitchen, which opened onto a family room that faced the rolling hills stair-stepping down to the sea, a mere sliver on the horizon. The walls were covered with sports awards of all sorts, from certificates and plaques to trophies that gleamed in the late afternoon light. Magnets plastered a soccer schedule to the refrigerator, and beside it was a finger painting that Molly must have done.
Sarah handed Lucky a glass of lemonade. “You’re good for Greg.”
“I’ve been nothing but trouble since he found me. You see how he fights with Cody.”
Sarah turned to check on Molly, who was pulling Tupperware out of the cabinet. “They’re talking again, and if Greg can vent enough of his anger, maybe he’ll listen to reason.”
“About what?” Lucky couldn’t help but ask, realizing she wanted to know as much about Greg as possible.
She sipped the lemonade and listened with growing alarm as Sarah told her about the fatal accident that had exposed the affair between Cody and Jessica. Lucky was stunned to learn Greg hadn’t spoken to anyone in his brother’s family since the accident. How could he cut himself off? She would forgive anyone in her family—even her mother—just to have a family to call her own.
Sarah leaned across the table. “I knew the second I met Jessica that she was trouble. She was one of those crisis-oriented people. Everything was a big deal, a trauma. She just wanted attention, and she never got enough of it from Greg.
“
You see what he’s like. He has his hands full at the institute, then he’s the ace on the search and rescue team. He needed to
marry someone a little more independent. Jessica cheated on him right from the first. She did it to get his attention, and when that didn’t work anymore, she went after his brother.”
“I can’t imagine Greg putting up with it.”
Sarah shrugged. “I guess he loved her—at least at first—but she suffered from depression and threatened to kill herself if he divorced her.”
Lucky couldn’t imagine anyone treating Greg like that, but obviously she’d been wrong. It was becoming clearer to her with each day that she didn’t have the proper emotional perspective on life. She didn’t quite know how to read people.
“
Threatening to kill yourself is emotional blackmail. It’s not playing fair.” Sarah watched Molly, who was now surrounded by an armada of Tupperware. The child was beating on a plastic bowl with a wooden spoon. “You must have been very strong to have forgiven Cody.”
“What choice did I have? Face it, men are weak. Their brains are in their jockstraps. I love Cody. If I didn’t forgive him, I would only be hurting myself
…
and my family. It’s been two years. I know I did the right thing.”
“I’m sure you did, but Greg still hasn’t forgiven Cody. Do you think he ever will?”
“Maybe, now that you’re here.”
“Me? What do I have to do with it?”
“Greg’s interested in you—as a woman. You’re forcing him to deal with his feelings about you, about Cody
…
about lots of things.”
“He just feels responsible for me because—”
“Don’t you get it? Greg wants you to wear a swimsuit that covers every inch of your sexy figure, so other men can’t see you. Believe me, if he didn’t care about you, he’d never think about what kind of suit you wear.” Sarah rose and picked up a paper from the counter. “He’
ll go ballistic when he sees thi
s.”
Lucky took it and saw the dreadful image that had replayed in her mind dozens of times—the face she’d seen in the mirror
and failed to recognize as her own. The headline read “Pele’s Ghost Finds Brother.” There was a long article covering most of the front page and another grainy photograph that must have been taken with a telephoto lens. It showed her emerging from the pool, dive tank on her back, wearing a bathing suit that made her look like a cheap slut.
“Oh, my God, no wonder Greg wants me to get another suit. I look disgusting.” She read the headline again. “The article is just plain stupid. Rudy isn’t my brother.” She pushed the paper aside.
“According to Hawaiian legend, Pele, the goddess of fire, created these islands. She was the number one, most important god
…
a woman.” Sarah grinned and winked. “I like that part. Kuhaimoana, her brother, the next most powerful god, was a shark. The paper says you plunged into the water the first chance you got and talked to a shark.”
“That’s ridiculous! Rudy’s part of an institute project
—
”
Lucky stopped, realizing she had been talking to a shark. He hadn’t talked back, of course, but his name had come to her suddenly.
“The legend about Pele says she often appears at the side of the road with a dog,” Sarah went on. “You weren’t with a dog, but Dodger did find you. It’s the kind of story islanders love because it ties in with the history of the island.”
“
I’d rather be a ghost than a car thief,
”
Lucky tried to joke.
“Forget it. That’s just how the
Tattler
makes money.” She opened the refrigerator and found a bag of carrots. “It’s time to feed the horses. Watch Molly for me while I put out their hay.”
They went down the slope to the pasture, where the colt and two other horses were romping through the grass, walking slowly to allow Molly to toddle along ahead of them. Birds trilled in the distance, flittering on bright wings through the skein of vines that grew wild, hanging from the trees in garlands that brushed the ground.
While Sarah forked hay into the manger in the nearby corral,
Lucky stood at the fence, helping Molly feed carrots to the horses who were jostling for treats. The shy colt’s eyes shifted warily, but encouraged by the others, he reached out his velvety muzzle and plucked a carrot from Molly’s chubby hand.
Sarah finished and opened the gate with a click, which was as good as a dinner bell, sending the horses trotting across the pasture and into the corral. Lucky lifted Molly off the top rail and put her on the grass. The child immediately grabbed a stick and lurched off after a butterfly.
“Isn’t she something?” Sarah asked. “Perpetual motion. At the same age, though, the twins were worse. Boys are double trouble.”
They sat on a flat rock, watching the horses swish their tails as they ate to ward off the bevy of bluebottles that had appeared. Both women kept an eye on Molly as she explored the meadow where the rippling breeze combed the grass, parting it and making the sprigs of white ginger sway. Lucky decided that this was as good as life gets. But she couldn’t help wondering if there had been another time, another place, where she’d sat quietly enjoying Mother Nature’s gifts.
With someone she would never remember.
“Oh-oh, oh-oh,” came the call of a bird on the rain-scented wind that promised the usual late afternoon shower.
“Hear that?” Sarah jumped up and sprinted over to her daughter, who was nearby. “Honey, listen.” She cupped her ear and little Molly cocked her head.
“Oh-oh, oh-oh,” the bird repeated, louder this time.
Molly’s eyes grew wide, and she called, “Oh-oh, oh-oh.”
“It’s an O’o bird,” Sarah told them. “They mate for life, and when one mate loses the other, they call until they find each other again. When I was a child, you used to hear them all the time. Now they’re almost extinct.”
“Stink.” Molly struggled with the word.
“Extinct. It means there aren’t many left. Someday there won’t be any.”
They listened as the O’o pleaded for its mate to return.
Sadness welled up inside Lucky like a swift-rising tide. Why wasn’t there someone out there looking for her, missing her?
They listened, hoping to hear the rare bird again, but the only sound was the rising breeze fluttering through the branches, bringing with it a heaviness in the air that heralded a tropical shower. Molly became distracted by a cat stalking its way through the tall grass, its tail an orange plume in the lush greenness. She ambled after it, giggling as she went.
Lucky couldn’t help thinking she’d love to have a child. Greg’s child. But until she found out who she was and her future was settled, she didn’t dare dream.
Sarah returned to the rock where Lucky was sitting. “Tell me about your session with the psychologist.”
Lucky didn’t need any encouragement to talk to Sarah. Although this was just the second time they’d been together, it seemed as if they were old friends. She told her about being regressed to the point that she was only a bit older than Molly, and how she’d been hiding in the closet. Sarah didn’t say anything but she kept her eyes on her daughter, frowning as she listened. Sarah was a model mother, having held her family together through its crisis, and Lucky knew she couldn’t imagine mistreating a child.
“I feel better now,” Lucky concluded. “I honestly do. I had no idea why I had the overwhelming urge to get in the closet, and now I understand. Dr. Forenski says I’ll get over it, and that’s a relief.”
“She thought you might have run away as a teen, then tu
rned to a life on the… ah…
streets.”
“It’s okay, Sarah. You can say it. I may very well have been a prostitute or dealing drugs.” She looked into Sarah’s warm brown eyes and saw a friend. “I think I was a prostitute.”
“No. I don’t believe that.”
Lucky told her about what she’d done to Greg that night in the tent, things Greg had not mentioned to Cody. Sarah slanted a quick glance at her daughter, who was now pulling up clumps of ginger with both hands, then she looked back at Lucky.
“Greg thinks I’m a hooker. He told me so.”
“Oh, Lucky, no wonder he’s having such a hard time. Jessica behaved just like some—” Sarah tossed her hair over shoulder, obviously annoyed with her choice of words. “It would have been nice if you were the girl next door, but then some man would probably have come for you, and Greg wouldn’t be fighting his attraction, would he?”
“No,” Lucky admitted. “Dr. Forenski says even a minor head injury can change someone’s personality. I might not be
anything
like the person I was before the accident. She told me to start over and be whatever I want to be.”
“And what do you want to be?”
“Not a hooker, that’s for sure. I want Greg to respect me. I want to do something worthwhile, like saving Rudy, but I’m not going to get the chance. Next week is the trial. Unless someone miraculously comes forward to explain what I was doing with a stolen car, I’m going to prison.” Lucky sucked in a calming breath, remembering her terrifying experience in jail. “Sarah, I have an idea. Plea
se help me…
”
14
“
C
hief, there’s someone here to see you.” The duty officer rolled his eyeballs and Cody looked past him, half expecting to see Tony Traylor. The jerk had already called three times today to see if they had anything new on Lucky. But it wasn’t Traylor. This man had gray hair parted and swept to the side like British royalty, and he was wearing a suit and a tie. In the islands, no one dressed like that except when he was in a casket.
“Dr. Carlton Summerville,” the man said, extending a hand with a gold watch that would have cost Cody a year’s salary.
Cody shook his hand, mentally betting that this had to do with Lucky. He only hoped that this clotheshorse had come to ID the blonde. After his fight on the phone with Greg, nothing would make him happier than getting rid of Lucky. Just as he thought, she’d managed to convince Greg that she didn’t remember a thing.
“I’m doing research on Hoyt-Mellenberger syndrome,” Summerville informed him in a tone that implied his study was akin to discovering the cure for cancer. “I want to interview the Jane Doe you arrested.”
“She’s out on bail. I don’t know where she is.” He was stretching the truth, not lying. Cody glanced up at the wall map and saw the flag near the Iao Needle. He knew Greg and Dodger were up there, but Lucky wouldn’t be with the S and R unit.
“I understand your brother posted bail,” the doctor said.
The best defense was usually a good offense. “That’s right. What medical school are you with?”
“I’m not. I’m doing research for a private group, the Wakefield Foundation. They fund a number of research projects. Most of them deal with cranial injuries.”
The answer was smooth, stated in simplistic terms that even Quasimodo would understand, but Cody’s sixth sense went on alert. What did this man really want?
“I’m the foremost expert on Hoyt-Mellenberger. I often use hypnosis.”
“That so?” Cody had discussed the disease with doctors in Honolulu. Most were surprised Lucky couldn’t remember her name, but none of them had mentioned hypnosis. That had been Lucky’s idea, and he’d had a difficult time locating a doctor to do it. He’d met Dr. Forenski earlier in the day and had discussed Lucky’s condition with the hypnotherapist. “Why is hypnosis important?”
“It’s complicated,” Dr. Summerville responded, implying Cody was just a dump cop. “Now, if I could see this woman, I could evaluate her suitability for my research.”
“She’s due to be in court next week. That’s all I can tell you.”
“I can make it worth your while
…
”
The doctor reached for his wallet.
“Forget it.” Cody watched the doctor leave, his tasseled loafers clicking on the floor. Interesting, no one had come forward to identify Lucky, but two different men had appeared willing to put up cash just to see her.
“Okano,” he yelled to the only detective on his force. “Let’s run a background check on Fenton Bewley. Start with UPI.
Then try the AMA for Dr. Carlton Summerville. Let me know what you come up with.”
His phone rang and it was Sarah, which was unusual. She rarely called him, so Cody prepared himself for a problem with one of the children. Last time Jason had slid into home plate and had broken his arm.
“
I told Lucky she could waive time and get her trial postponed for a few weeks, right?” Sarah said.
“
Yeah.” A defendant could waive his or her right to a speedy trial and the court date would be set for later.
“
What are you doing with Lucky?
”
Cody listened with growing irritation as Sarah explained that Lucky needed more time to remember her name. It was bad enough having his brother involved with this weirdo, but now Sarah was on her side. When Sarah made up her mind about something, you could move heaven and earth, but you couldn’t budge her. That’s why he loved Sarah. She’d stuck by him when most other women would have walked out the door.
“Tony Traylor will put pressure on the judge to refuse Lucky’s request,” Cody said, hoping to discourage Sarah.
“I’m contacting Garth Bradford in Honolulu. I’m certain he’ll help Lucky.”
“You’re probably right.” Bradford was the best criminal attorney in the islands. As a young man he’d been a good- looking jock, but an auto accident had left him paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair. If you were rich, his fees hit the stratosphere, but he took many cases of clients who couldn’t afford to pay him. “One of Bradford’s stares could back down a pit bull. Then he’ll throw out enough legal bullshit to bury the island. There isn’t a judge around here willing to tangle with him.”
“Exactly, especially since the
Tattler
has made Pele’s ghost an island sensation.” Sarah laughed and Cody couldn’t help smiling, thinking how much he loved her. “I have a great idea about how to help Lucky.”
Uh-oh. Now what? He braced himself, listening carefully.
“
S
he went on-line last night,” the Orchid King told his partner. “She surfed into a marine biology Web site and asked about reattaching a shark’s fins.”
“She knows exactly who she is.”
“I’ve downloaded all the research on Hoyt-Mellenberger syndrome. If she really has it, she’s lost the ability to recall events in the past. But things she’s done over and over, like going on-line, will still be in her brain. It’s called procedural memory.”
They were walking along the beach, where a glowing crimson sun was melting into the sea, painting the sky cerise and mauve. Like holiday bunting, garlands of seaweed decorated the beach as the tide retreated, leaving a cache of shells. In the distance, the city’s high-rises stood out like grim reapers against the darkening sky.
“Have you heard anything from our source on Maui?” the king asked.
His partner stopped to examine a rare checkered cowrie shell that had washed up onshore. “We planted a bug in the police chief’s office.”
“Perfect. Now we’ll find out everything
the police know immediately.”
His partner tossed the shell aside and it skipped across the wet sand into the surf. “They’re trying to get Lucky on
Missing
. ”
“Unfuckingbelievable! The show’s at the top of the rating charts. If they blast her picture across every boob tube in America, there’s a good chance someone will recognize her. We can’t let that happen.”
“Why not? You said you went into every data base and erased all traces of her e
xistence using the computer.”
“True, but what about her past?” the king asked. “Do you really believe she didn’t have a family or friends when she came here? She must have been hiding something.”
His partner shrugged it off. “So let the skeletons fly out of
her closet. What do we care as long as no one can trace her back to us?”
The king cared
…
more than he wanted his partner to know. He didn’t have any right to love this woman, but he couldn’t help hi
mself. “She’s up to something. I
can feel it.”
“She was hypnotized today.”
“What did she tell the shrink?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“She goes to trial next week. Maybe they’ll jail her and that’ll be the end of it.” The king liked that idea better than having her family claim her or letting her stay with that prick Braxton.
“They’ve called in Garth Bradford, and they’re going for a postponement.”
“Bradford? Shit!” A rogue wave breached the tide line, halting inches from his feet, showering his bare legs with a fine mist, making him even angrier. “He’s the best. He’ll get her off.”
“Forget her,” his partner said. “I have.”
The king knew a lie when he heard one, but he understood. His partner loved this woman as much, maybe more, than he did.
“Concentrate on a warehouse full of rare orchids,” his partner continued quietly.
They had rented a warehouse on the fringe of Chinatown, near the docks. The first shipments of orchids from the golden triangle were due in at the end of the week. It gave the Orchid King a deep sense of pleasure to know many of the orchids were so exceedingly rare. A single plant could bring thousands of dollars from collectors. Since China had opened to the West,
i
t was now possible to send in smug
glers to strip the rain forest o
f its rarest treasures. And bring them to him.
“What are you thinking about?” his partner asked.
“
Orchids, of course, and how to strip the last of those phalae
n
opsis orchids from the rain forest on Maui without getting
caught.” It was a lie: He couldn’t keep his mind off a woman who was as unusual as the rarest orchid.
I
t was almost ten o’clock by the time Greg drove down his driveway with Dodger in the backseat. Ahead his house was all lit up, the first time in over two years that he hadn’t returned to a dark home. He was stunned by how pleased he was. Okay, blown away. But then everything he’d learned about Lucky today had thrown him.
What he’d seen in the doctor’s office had profoundly upset him. She truly remembered nothing about her past and never would. He’d vacillated about her so much, unwilling to believe her yet not quite willing to say she was a liar. Then he’d discovered they had more in common than he ever would have suspected.
He could still feel the lash of the belt as Aunt Sis lit into him yet again. But it was nothing compared to burning a young child, traumatizing her so much that she didn’t even know her own name.
Shuddup.
Son of a bitch! Who could be so cruel?
Lucky didn’t
seem
upset by what she’d learned. The doctor’s hypnotic suggestion that she not be bothered by what she’d discovered apparently had worked. Lucky was grateful to know the truth and concerned about whether he believed her. Once her preoccupation with what he thought would have annoyed him. But not anymore. Now Greg found it unexpectedly touching.
“What in hell am I going to say to her?” he asked Dodger.
Talk? Hell. It was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her, to make love to her. That was the only way he knew how to comfort her. He was hopelessly lost at expressing himself. Except in bed.
He pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition. Phew! Greg swiped at his gritty forehead with the back of his hand. His entire body was coated with sweat and dirt from climbing around in the bush, and he smelled like two-day-old roadkill.
“Okay, Dodger, let’s hit the shower.” He opened the door for the dog.
Greg walked into the house and stopped, his stomach rumbling. The aroma of something delicious was coming out of the kitchen. She’d made him something special and was waiting for him. How many times had he wished Jessica would do that? Of course, she never had. If he was late for dinner, he could just fix himself something while she sulked.
“We’re back,” he yelled.
“Great,” she called from the kitchen. “Did you find the hiker?”
“
Yeah,” he said, walking into the room.
“
The kid had fallen down a—” Greg stopped dead in his tracks. “Lucky?”
Only the eyes were familiar. Wide and green and rimmed by dark wispy lashes. Okay, the sexy bod was familiar, too.
“What happened to your hair?”
“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Christ! This was a new woman. The frizzy blond hair was gone, dyed a warm chestnut brown with reddish highlights. It had been cut short into windblown curls that tumbled naturally around her cheeks.
Silence charged the air like a tropical storm. Her eager, excited expression touched him in an unfamiliar way. She could completely undo him with that look. Loneliness lurked behind those intense green eyes, along with a raw pain that he understood perfectly.
“You don’t like it,” she said, disappointment underscoring every word.
Then he realized that he’d been too stunned to say a word. “Like it? Hell, I love it.” He grinned at her and she rewarded him with an adorable smile. “You look great.”
“I told Sarah to do it.” Lucky patted the back of her head. “I have to comb the back into a ducktail and spray it so the shaved spot won’t show, but it’s a lot better than long, kinky hair.”
“Do you recognize yourself now?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. This isn’t me. I like it, though.” She grabbed a bag off the counter. “Look at this.” Lucky pulled out a black one-piece suit. “What do you think?”
Greg nodded, not trusting himself to tell her what he really thought. She was so damn cute, with those provocative green eyes and a body that wouldn’t quit. “Great suit,” he mumbled, turning to go. “I’d better get in the shower.”
It didn’t help. The water sluiced over him, cascading in rivulets over his chest and down his hips to his legs, but the telltale throb in his groin was still there.
How long had it been since he’d had a woman? Not long really. He seemed to remember a redhead from Tulsa who’d been staying at the Four Seasons last month. Or had it been the Texan with the wraparound legs staying at the Hyatt? Obviously, it had been too long, Greg thought, soaping himself thoroughly.