Page 28 of Wrong Turn

Apule(prayer) by Aunty opened the buffet, and soon the crowded room sorted itself into a boisterous line, with Lei and Aunty at the head.

“I want to see your plate filled with your favorite beef and pineapple stew,” Momi, Aunty’s restaurant partner, said. She handed Lei one of the deep china bowls. “And lots of rice to soak it up. Made ‘em special for you, girl.”

“Thank you, Aunty Momi,” Lei leaned forward to kiss the Hawaiian woman’s cheek. “Your stew is my favorite.”

“And you always saymystew is your favorite!” Rosario protested, giving Lei a little shove.

“I get to have two favorites, don’t I?” Lei laughed. “I’m going to miss you both, and this place, so much.”

“Don’t think about it until you have to,” Momi advised. “And never forget, we’re always here whenever you want to come home.”

Later, seated beside Aunty at one of the crowded tables listening to one of her distant cousins from Las Vegas play slack-key guitar, Lei glanced at the clock over the door.

Eight p.m. Still early.

Keiki was home, locked inside the house, but this time of night they were usually patrolling the neighborhood. The robbers had gone quiet in the last two weeks, with no new incidents since they’d almost been captured by the police—but Lei was worried about leaving the dog home alone without her.

A weird sense of urgency drove her to her feet. “Aunty, I’m going to excuse myself and jog home super quick. Just to check on Keiki,” she whispered in Rosario’s ear. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“All right.” Rosario patted Lei’s shoulder absently, her attention on the talented musician weaving a spell from the restaurant’s little stage as he launched into a rendition of “Going to a Hukilau.” Another cousin got up, encouraged by the family, to dance hula to the song.

Feeling guilty for leaving even for a few minutes, Lei slipped into the kitchen, unloaded the pile of leis onto the polished metal counter, grabbed her jacket, and exited out the back door.

* * *

Lei approachedthe little brown bungalow with its attached garage. Aunty had driven them to the restaurant tonight and had closed the garage door behind them. The overhead security light was on, as usual. Lei stepped up onto the little porch and inserted her key into the metal screen security door they’d installed over the regular front door once the break-ins had started—and that’s when she heard Keiki inside, snarling and growling.

Lei froze, her eyes widening, her key inserted.

Something was very wrong.

Chapter Nineteen

Lei paused,one hand against the metal grill of the door, the other clenched around the key inserted into the lock. Inside the house, Keiki was still snarling and growling . . . but not barking.

Was Keiki afraid? Was there another animal inside, like a raccoon?

Lei turned the key, shouting, “Keiki!”

At the sound of her voice, the dog burst into loud, rapid barking. Lei recognized the same bark Keiki had used when confronting the robbers:someone was in the house!

Lei fumbled her flip phone out of her pocket, thankful that she had slipped it in there when she left the restaurant. Her fingers seemed unable to find the buttons as she fumbled to call the police. She brought the phone to her ear as she opened the grilled security door, then inserted her key into the lock on the wooden front door.

“Nine-one-one Emergency.”

“There’s someone inside our house! My dog is confronting them. Please hurry!” Lei gave the address.

“Do not enter the house,” the operator directed. “Stay outside, if you suspect there is an intruder and your dog has engaged with them.”

“But the robbers in our neighborhood have been armed!” Lei cried. “I don’t want them to hurt my dog.”

“A patrol is on their way to your location,” the operator said. “Stay outside!”

Lei flipped her phone shut and slid it into her pocket.

She would do no such thing; she had to make sure that Keiki was safe.

Her hands were sweaty on the doorknob and Keiki’s ferocious sounds made Lei even more nervous. She fumbled the door open. Peeking around it into the dimly lit front room, she called out, “Keiki?”

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