Page 56 of Tiki Beach
“We don’t have time,” I said, moving to the foot of the bed. I found the brake release pedal and pressed it with my foot, feeling the mechanism give way with a metallic click. The bed shifted slightly, no longer anchored to the floor.
“Hold on to the side rails,” I instructed, positioning myself at the head of the bed. I gripped the metal frame, heavy and solid beneath my hands. “I’m going to push you out of here.”
Pearl nodded, her knuckles white against the bed rails. Her eyes darted to the door, then back to me. “Where will we go?”
“Somewhere safe,” I promised, though I had no idea where that might be. “Just stay quiet.”
The door swung open as the bed approached it.
Kawika, dressed in scrubs and a hair covering, stood in the doorway, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. A mask was pushed down under his chin.
“It was you,” I breathed—and hoped he hadn’t heard me.
Surprise registered on his face as he took in the scene—Pearl in her mobile bed, me pushing it, the darkened monitors.
“Kat? What are you doing?” he asked. “Pearl, are you alright?”
The moment he spoke, I recognized him for sure: that measured, reasonable voice had agreed with Santos on the recording. The calm tone that had suggested a health crisis for Pearl.
I forced my expression to remain friendly, even as every nerve ending screamed a dangerous rage.
“Kawika,” Pearl exclaimed, relief evident in her reedy tone. “Thank goodness it’s you. Kat thinks someone might be trying to hurt me.”
Kawika’s expression gave way to something harder, more calculating, before smoothing into a sympathetic frown so quickly I might have imagined the transition. “That’s terrible,” he said, stepping into the room. The door closed behind him. The soft click of the latch engaging sounded like a gunshot in the quiet. “What makes you think that, Kat?”
His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. The flowers in his hand, the same bouquet as mine—trembled slightly, the only indication that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared.
“The police officer is gone outside the door,” I said. “And Pearl said a nurse she didn’t recognize was in here, messing with her IV.”
“I checked with the nurse’s station. The officer stepped away to take a call because his cell phone wasn’t picking up in here. And the nursing staff has been changing shifts.” Kawika moved closer, setting his flowers next to mine on the nightstand—going back to buy them must have been why he was behind me in reaching the room. “Why disconnect everything? Were you going to move her?”
The question hung in the air between us, innocent on the surface but loaded with implications.
“I was worried,” I said. “I’m former Secret Service. Protecting is my training.”
“Of course,” Kawika agreed in that calm, reasonable voice. “But Pearl should stay here where the doctors can monitor her, don’t you think? I’ll get a nurse to help get everything reconnected.”
He reached toward the call button on the wall, his finger hovering over it.
“No!” I said, too quickly. “I mean, we need to find her regular nurse. The one who knows her case.”
I was trapped—caught between continuing the pretense and revealing what I knew, which could escalate the situation and put Pearl in more danger.
The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker.
I glanced down at Pearl’s frightened face, then back at Kawika.
The weight of indecision lifted suddenly, replaced by cold clarity. Playing along wasn’t going to save us.
“I heard you,” I said firmly. “On the recording from the safe deposit box.”
Kawika’s eyes revealed a flicker of surprise before he composed himself. “What recording?” he asked, his voice softer than before.
“Someone recorded a meeting between you, David Santos and his father, and Councilman Akana,” I said, stepping around the bed to position myself between him and Pearl. He would have to get through me to touch her. “You and David Santos discussed removing Pearl as an ‘obstacle.’ You suggested a health crisis.”
Pearl’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound for a long moment as the two of us locked eyes.
“I just saw you with David,” I continued, my voice tight. “Downstairs in the cafeteria. You were both looking at something on a tablet. Planning your next move.”
