The Bone Field Debra Bokur (novels for beginners .txt) 📖

Breath after breath, she became still, sensing through the soles of her feet the tumultuous act that was about to take place.

She lowered herself onto the rock and sat there for the better part of an hour. Hilo lay next to her, his long body taking up the empty space beside her, his ears alert. Kali shuddered, but not from cold; seconds later, warning alarms rang on the far coast, undetectable by her ears from this distance, but nevertheless known. She felt the volcano’s wild release.

As the spray from the sea grew in intensity as the tide moved in and the water level rose, she took a deep breath, lying back on the rock next to the dog, feeling the water droplets make contact with her exposed arms and legs. She drifted off for a while, half-dreaming, until the light made a subtle change. Sunrise was imminent. Slowly, she stood and faced the east, stretching her arms over her head. “E ala e, ka la i kahikina,” she chanted, greeting the sun and the new day. “Arise, for the sun is in the east.”

The darkness shifted toward gray light, and the thin red and amber line separating the sea and sky became more pronounced. As the crown of the sun came into view, she climbed carefully off the rock and back to the hillside, followed silently by Hilo. When she reached the steps of her lanai, she sat down again, enjoying the view of color rising from the thin horizon; the light growing steadily on the earth below; the tall damp blades of grass gaining definition; and the sound of the morning birds singing and sharing whatever news birds shared with one another.

Then the image of skeletons in the fallow field intruded, dimming the enjoyment of the dawn’s light. She rose and stretched. Hilo watched her, waiting for some further indication of her intentions.

“Come on, fella,” she said to him, leading the way up the steps and into the kitchen. Makena stood in the doorway, looking sleepy and confused.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

Kali looked at her. “Didn’t you feel it?”

Makena shook her head, not understanding. “Feel what? The kid?” One hand reached down, touching the small, almost imperceptible swell above her sharply defined hipbones. “I think it’s too soon.”

“No, not that. The volcano.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kali tried to be patient. “Kilauea. It’s erupting.”

Makena rolled her eyes and scowled. “And you felt it? From all the way over on the other coast of Hawai‘i Island? You are so freaking weird. Of course I didn’t feel it, and neither did you or anyone else unless they were standing next to it.” She looked around the dim kitchen. “I’m going back to bed. Hilo can come with me.”

She walked back into the small bedroom, followed by the dog. Kali watched her, saying nothing. She waited until the door was closed, then went to the counter and lifted the electric kettle from its base and filled it with water. She switched it on, and as the water heated, she measured coffee beans into a grinder, then poured them into the glass press. When the water was hot, she poured it carefully over the ground beans, relishing the scent of the coffee as it filled the small kitchen space. She opened the fridge, removing the loaf of raisin bread that had garnered George’s disapproval at the market, and placed two slices in her old toaster. She filled a mug with coffee, and reached into a cabinet for a small plate. By the time the toast popped up and she’d buttered it and carried the plate and her coffee mug to the table, her dark mood had begun to dissipate.

The printed list of missing persons was on the table. She read through it as she ate, frustrated that the list would have to be expanded significantly to include the new discoveries. So far, there was little in common between any of the people described on the current list: a middle-aged banker, a high school science teacher, two car mechanics from different parts of the country, one ballroom dancing competitor, and a mix of other professions that seemed completely unlinked to the pineapple industry. There were several workers missing, but they didn’t appear to match the age and height range suggested by Stitches.

She considered briefly that the location of the bodies might be unrelated to the victims themselves, but dismissed the thought. The carved pineapple was too much of a direct link. She pictured the burials, considering the differences and similarities. The first body had been placed in a container, while the others had been wrapped and placed directly into the ground, their shrouds long-disintegrated. One had been beheaded, at least one had a broken neck, and the trio of bodies had been laid carefully side by side. Except for the infant, each person had been buried with their hands folded over their chest. The most obvious and important connection was the small anchor found in each grave. That was a similarity that proved there had been a relationship between the burials. Even if the silent, hidden dead had been strangers to one another, it seemed a given that they had each known the same killer.

She picked up a pen from the table and sketched the anchor in the margins of her printed list. Then came a buzzing sound, and Kali reached for her phone. The voice of Stitches emanated from the speaker.

“Very sorry to have disturbed you at home, Detective. You weren’t at the station when I called.”

Kali bit her lip. “My apologies, Doctor. You apparently begin the day a little earlier than me.”

“Quite all right. I’m calling because I have the preliminary report for you on the four new bodies, and some news on the first. I called Walter, but there was no answer, so I left him a message. I’m sure he’s still enjoying breakfast somewhere and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

Kali smiled involuntarily. Walter’s love of breakfast food—in all