Page 55 of Tiki Beach
“Keep them in visual,” Lei said. “I’m calling for backup and I’m on my way.”
I tucked the phone into my pocket as I positioned myself behind the palm where I could watch without being obvious. Santos and the medical staffer were now examining something on a tablet, their expressions serious.
Pearl’s room was three floors up. That Santos and his accomplice were here couldn’t be a coincidence. I clutched the bouquet tighter, the wax-paper-wrapped stems crushing under my grip as I watched and waited, praying Lei would arrive before the men made a move.
But Santos and the man in scrubs stood up from their table. The staffer tucked the tablet under his arm and nodded once to Santos before turning toward the elevator bank. He wore a blue medical mask and a paper hair covering; I couldn’t recognize him in that getup.
Santos remained in the café, steam from his untouched coffee curling upward as he pulled out his phone.
They were splitting up. A chill ran through me, jump-starting my heart.
I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slipping against the smooth case. I redialed Lei, the ringtone echoing in my ear once, twice, three times before rolling to voicemail.
“Lei, it’s Kat,” I whispered urgently, ducking further behind the broad leaves of the plant. “David Santos is here in the café, but the guy he was meeting in scrubs is heading to the stairs right now. I think they’re going after Pearl. Third floor, room 312. I’ll try to beat him by taking the elevator. Please hurry.”
As I ended the call, I watched the man in scrubs hit the staff door to enter into the stairwell. The fluorescent light from the elevator briefly illuminated his forehead and nose, but his face was effectively hidden by the mask and hair covering. The door closed behind him.
I rushed to the elevator and jabbed the button, the plastic cool under my fingertip. Fortunately, it was waiting, and chimed as the doors parted, releasing a wave of antiseptic-scented air. Inside, the space smelled of hand sanitizer. I pressed the button for the third floor, watching the numbers glow one after another as the elevator ascended.
When the doors finally opened on the third floor, harsh fluorescent lighting made me blink after the dimness of the elevator. The corridor stretched before me, beige walls and speckled linoleum floor gleaming under the unforgiving illumination. The squeak of rubber-soled shoes and the distant murmur of a television provided a soundtrack for my racing heart.
The air on this floor was cooler, chilling me further as I moved down the hall. As I rounded a corner, scanning for Room 312, beeping and low voices at the nurse’s station filled the air, enhanced by the scent of industrial floor cleaner.
My stomach tightened as I spotted an empty chair outside Pearl’s room, abandoned as if its occupant had left in a hurry. A half-finished cup of coffee sat on a small side table, a thin skin formed on its surface, the Maui PD logo visible on the plastic drinking vessel.
The officer who was supposed to be guarding Pearl was gone.
Pearl’s door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of muted light spilling into the hallway. From inside came the rhythmic beeping of monitors—too fast or too slow, I couldn’t tell, but the electronic pulse underscored my urgency. My precious size 11 Nike shoes squeaked against the polished floor as I pushed the door open with my shoulder, wincing at the pneumatic whine of the hinges, which I made sure closed all the way behind me.
The room was dim, its blinds drawn against the hot sun. Pearl lay still, white sheets pulled up to her chest, her small frame barely making a dent in the hospital blankets. The machines around her blinked and hummed, green and red lights casting an eerie glow across her pale face. The air smelled of disinfectant and loneliness.
I moved quickly to the bedside, my gaze scanning the monitors and registering the regularity of Pearl’s heartbeat. “Whew. You’re alive.” I set the flowers down on Pearl’s nightstand, the waxy wrapper crinkling loudly in the quiet room.
“Pearl?” I whispered, gently touching her arm. The skin beneath my fingertips was paper-thin and cold. “Pearl, it’s Kat.”
Her eyelids fluttered, dark lashes against pale cheeks, before opening slowly. Confusion clouded her sunken eyes momentarily before recognition dawned, her gaze sharpening in the dim light as she focused on my face.
“Kat,” she said, her voice like dry leaves crackling. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.” I kept my voice low, the words barely carrying over the persistent beeping of the monitors. “Pearl, has anyone been in your room in the last few minutes? A man in scrubs?”
She frowned, the movement creating new lines in her already creased face. “The nurse was here a little while ago. Checking my IV.” She lifted her hand slightly, drawing my attention to a tube taped to her skin, the clear liquid dripping steadily from the bag hanging above.
“Was it your regular nurse?” I asked urgently.
Pearl’s brow furrowed. “No . . . I don’t think I’ve seen him before. He said my regular nurse was on break.”
A sudden tightness in my chest made it difficult to breathe, the room’s recycled air feeling thin and insufficient. I glanced at the IV dripping into Pearl’s arm, then at the door. Whoever had been in here might have tampered with her IV.
I couldn’t leave it connected. I’d rather be sorry than wrong. “You might be in danger. I need to get this thing out.”
Pearl blinked in confusion but made no protest as I grasped her delicate hand. “This might hurt a bit,” I warned, carefully peeling back the tape securing the IV to Pearl’s skin. Her arm was mottled with bruises and the needle left a tiny bead of red as I eased it out. Pearl winced but didn’t make a sound. I pressed a tissue from the bedside table against the mark.
“Hold this,” I said, pressing her fingers over the tissue. “Keep pressure here.”
The machines around us continued their rhythmic beeping. I located the power cords and followed them to the wall, unplugging them one by one. The monitors went dark, their electronic eyes closing, the beeping silenced mid-note.
“What about the call button?” Pearl asked, her voice stronger now, fueled by adrenaline. “I can call for help.”
