My heart is pounding so hard I’m pretty sure everyone at the party can hear it, but I start walking toward the water anyway, my flip-flops silent on the sand that’s still warm from the day’s heat. Behind me, the party continues with Ruby working the kinks out of her hip while flirting shamelessly with Loco, Lani is directing Shaka toward the proper serving techniques for haupia like it’s a military operation, and Melanie is actually smiling as she samples a cinnamon roll that’s large enough to require its own rental unit at the resort.
None of them notices as I slip away from the lights and music toward the woman standing alone at the tide line, and I briefly wonder if this is how people die in horror movies—walking toward danger while everyone else is distracted by food.
“Beautiful evening,” I say, stopping a few feet behind Savannah because getting too close to a murderer seems like poor life planning. It was for Nolan.
She doesn’t turn around, just continues staring out at the moonlight dancing on the waves. “It is,” she says, her voice carrying the same warm tone she uses when teaching othersabout growing things. “This is what your resort could be, you know. What it should have been all along.”
“Instead of what Nolan wanted to turn it into.”
“Nolan.” Her voice carries something sharp now, like the sound of pruning shears cutting through dead wood, and I feel my skin prickle with awareness that I’m alone with someone dangerous. She finally turns to face me, her silver-streaked hair catching the moonlight in a way that should be beautiful but now just feels ominous. “That man saw dollar signs where other people see beauty. Profit margins where others see homes. Development opportunities where others see sacred spaces.”
“He threatened your garden,” I say, stepping closer to her on the packed sand even though every survival instinct I have is screaming at me to run.
“He threatened everything I’ve spent thirty years building,” she replies, her hands clenching at her sides. “The garden, the community, the students I’ve taught to understand that some things are more valuable than money.”
I move another step closer, close enough to catch the scent of jasmine that always seems to surround her, mixed now with something else—a tension that comes from carrying secrets too heavy for one person to bear, the weight of having crossed a line you can never uncross.
“You killed him.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me with those warm brown eyes that now look sad rather than surprised, like she’s been expecting this conversation and dreading it.
“Did I?” she asks quietly, and there’s something almost vulnerable in her voice.
“With oleander,” I say, my voice steady despite my racingheart. “You knew he’d be drinking that night, knew he’d have his guard down. It was easy enough to slip something toxic into his drink, wait for the poison to take effect—maybe even help him into the pool when he became disoriented.”
“That’s quite a theory,” she says, brushing an imaginary speck of sand from her muumuu.
“It’s not a theory. It’s what happened.”
Savannah sighs, the sound mixing with the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, and for a moment she looks older than her years, tired in a way that goes beyond physical exhaustion. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Jinx,” she says, but there’s resignation in her voice now, as if she’s too tired to keep pretending.
“Then explain it to me.”
“Explain what?” She gestures toward the party behind us, where laughter mingles with ukulele music and people are having the time of their lives, completely unaware that they’re fifty yards from what could be a murder confession. “That sometimes bad things happen to bad people? That sometimes the universe has a way of protecting what needs protecting?”
“Explain how you could kill someone and then spend the next week acting like the grieving community member, helping with investigations, pointing suspicion toward other people.”
“Other people?” Savannah laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You mean May? That poor girl who’s been running from her past since the day she got here? Or Dane, who’s just trying to make a living in a place where tourism is the only game in town?”
“You tried to frame them,” I say, my voice getting stronger. “In fact, you spread rumors about them.”
“I tried toprotectthem,” she replies firmly. “Just like I protect everyone in this community who deserves to be protected. May needed someone to vouch for her, so I did. Dane needed work, so I sent tourists his way. I take care of my people, Jinx. That’s what community means.”
The warm breeze gusts across the water, carrying the sound of ukuleles and laughter from the party behind us.
“Nolan Nakamura was going to destroy everything,” Savannah continues, her voice taking on the passionate quality I’ve heard when she talks about her garden. “Not just the land, but the community. The families who’ve been here for generations. The children who learn about their heritage in that garden.”
“So you decided he had to die,” I say.
“I decided he had to bestopped,” she corrects, stepping closer to me in a way that makes my heart rate spike. “There’s a difference.”
“Same thing.”
“Is it?” She moves another step my way and closes the distance between us, and even now, even knowing what she’s done, there’s something genuinely caring in her expression. “Tell me, Jinx, what would you do if someone threatened to destroy everything you’d built? Everything you loved? Would you just stand by and let it happen?”
“I wouldn’t commit murder,” I say firmly.
“Wouldn’t you?” she asks softly, and the question feels like a trap.
