Chapter 15
The Hunt
Poi: the Hawaiian “staff of life,” made from cooked taro corms pounded and thinned with water
Woody’s truck was the kind you had to climb to get into, with the running board at mid-thigh level and the door above her head. Once inside, Minnow was surprised to see it was spotless and it smelled faintly like aftershave and flowers. He had the air-conditioning on high and Hawaiian music blasting from his speakers.
“Next time, leave me a note,” Woody said, turning the music down. “I thought the kayak washed away until I saw your purse was back on the table.”
“I’m sorry. I was feeling out of sorts after the hospital visit and not really thinking. I won’t do that again.”
“Anna said it was Angela Crawford who got bit out there, and it’s all over the news. Big stinking deal. Da shark nevah care how rich or famous you are. Floating out in the deep on a boogie board like one sitting duck—who does that? That boat driver shoulda never let them in the water.”
“It’s true.”
“Mainland guy. Comes here and doesn’t know jack.”
Minnow sat silent. Was that how he saw her too? “People need to be educated on how to lessen their chances.”
“How about they just nevah come here in the first place? Every single one of these people was from somewhere else. To me that says something.”
“I’m from somewhere else. What does that say about me?” she couldn’t help but ask.
He grunted. “Yeah, well, you know the ocean. You’ve put in the time.”
Back at the house, Woody grilled a fat steak for himself and looked at her as though she were crazy when she told him she was a vegetarian. But he quickly whipped out a tub of mac salad and poi from the fridge, along with a pot of already cooked rice. Minnow had tried poi on O?ahu, and it tasted like a cross between dirt and Elmer’s glue, but this poi was sweet and thick and delicious.
“Waipio Valley, that’s why,” was all he said.
Minnow was so hungry, she could barely see straight and chased the poi with a bowl of mac salad topped with rice.
They were halfway through the meal when he said, “Mayor Lum called for you while you was out. Said they’re having an informal task force meeting at the Kiawe tomorrow at six. He wants you there.”
So she did have an official invite. “Did he say who else will be there?”
“No, but I told him I wanted to come. These waters are my front yard.”
“As you should.”
Once they finished, Woody set out two cold beers, told her to meet him out on the seawall and went to turn off the generator. All clouds had cleared, and it looked like someone had taken stardust and flung it across the blackest of nights. Only in the middle of the ocean could you see so many stars. She thought of Max, who loved stargazing,and was happy to have so much distance from him. But he would have been a good person to consult with about these recent incidents. No doubt he had heard about them. And that she was here.
Good.
The generator sputtered, then grew silent. A minute later, Woody sat down next to her, moaning about his hip. “You know why we have so many stars?” he asked, sucking down a long swig.
“We’re on a tiny island in the sea?”
“That helps. But also, we have something called a Dark Sky law because of all the telescopes on Mauna Kea. So lights here gotta be a certain yellow wavelength—streetlights, that kind of thing.”
“It’s breathtaking,” she said.
“You want to talk breathtaking, go up that mountain and try to walk ten steps. Thirteen thousand eight hundred three feet too tall for me. I like it down here, sea level.”
“I’d love to go up there someday, but I’m with you on that one.”
A satellite moved overhead, a tiny, steadily crawling pinprick, and then the shadow of a large bird flew past, barely visible except for where it blocked out the stars, wingbeats moving in time with her heart. Minnow closed her eyes for a few moments and could hear the Sally Lightfoot crab feet scurrying through the rocks as they nibbled on seaweed. The thought of them out there, going about their crab life just below her feet, brought her a strange heaping of joy.
“What do you call the Sally Lightfoot here?” she asked.
