AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Paul turning away. Paul walking away.
Me, not following.
Now Twanow digs a manila folder out of her computer case. She places it on the empty space in front of my curled legs and starts pulling out individually clipped reports, each one topped by a photograph. The galley of rogues, I think, otherwise known as the forward crew.
“Here’s the deal,” she states crisply. “A development project like the one MacManus wants to undertake requires a lot of dotting i’s and crossing t’s. I don’t care how much money the man has; ecological impact matters at both the state and federal level, not to mention he can’t risk tainting his future luxury resort with bad PR. To that end, there’s roughly a dozen people stationed on Pomaikai to conduct the necessary studies while also ensuring everything proceeds according to plan. Needless to say, it’s not the happiest job for many of them.”
“Needless to say,” I echo, already getting it. MacManus equals rock. Fragile ecosystem, hard place. I’m suddenly very happy to be the person simply required to tidy things up while doling out booze. Go me.
“Sanders MacManus.” Twanow taps his photo with her finger. I obediently pick up the report, studying his picture.
“Keahi was right, he’s a good-looking guy if you’re into the preppy type. Is it just me, or does he dress like the business casual version of Thurston Howell? He come from money?”
“Not at all. Grew up in Southern California. His mother was a real estate agent; his father taught math at the local high school. MacManus’s claim to fame is befriending the right kid—Shawn Eastman, class nerd—and then defending him from bullies. Shawn developed the code that would become their business’s claim to fame, a rolling algorithm that aids in corporate security software. MacManus was the CEO and face of the operation, Eastman the brains. They took the company public ten years later and both became overnight millionaires. Then Shawn died in a plane accident. Within a year, MacManus sold the company, saying he couldn’t continue on without his partner. Being the sole shareholder, he made half a billion overnight. Been investing it in real estate ever since.”
“His partner’s death made him the sole shareholder? Sounds awfully suspicious to me.”
“There have been rumors circulating for years, but nothing concrete. The thing to remember about MacManus: he’s no tech genius. He’s a salesman, in his own words, or a con man, according to others. He’s plenty smart, but he’s also arrogant, self-absorbed, and condescending. You are exactly the kind of person he won’t bother to notice.”
“Yeah me!” But I get her point. His dismissiveness will make my job easier.
“MacManus is due to visit the site next week. You should have a few days to settle in before his arrival. Which brings us to the next important person, MacManus’s right-hand man and project manager, Vaughn Winslow Austin. He’s running the show, and he will be studying your every move.”
“Seriously? Vaughn Winslow Austin? Sure he and MacManus didn’t meet at some prep school in their tennis whites?” I pick up the next clipped report. Vaughn looks different than I expected—wavy brown hair, crinkled blue eyes, a hint of a smile set in weathered features. Handsome, but only in a Matthew McConaughey sort of way.
“Austin has developed two other major resorts for MacManus. He knows what he’s doing and runs a tight ship. My advice: be yourself, a wandering soul picking up work as you go. Most of these jobs are contract employees. You won’t be the only one who doesn’t have a mailing address.”
“Good to know.”
“I’ll give you these reports to study overnight; just don’t take them with you. You don’t want someone to discover something this incriminating if they go through your luggage.”
“I’m inexperienced, but not stupid,” I assure her.
“Third person to know for now, Aolani Akamai, MacManus’s architect, who’s working with the archaeologist and naturalists on the environmental impact statement. This project is a big deal for her. MacManus hired her as a concession to the locals—look at how much he wants to honor Hawaiian culture and heritage; he’s even hired a local architect. She’s no puppet, however. She’s gifted, ambitious, and razor sharp. She’s also still getting to know MacManus, which is to say, if you have reason to immediately fear for Lea or yourself, Aolani might be your best bet for assistance.”
“Okay.” I pick up her bio, study the photo. She’s tall and slender, with the kind of willowy build I associate with models and women I want to hate. But there’s a determined set to her jaw I find redeeming. Clearly, someone who doesn’t mind a fight.
I gesture to the collection of reports. “You’ve done your homework.”
Twanow settles into a stubborn expression. “I’m very good at my job.”
“But this isn’t your job. Getting Keahi off death row is. This is more like a favor for a friend. You like her that much, your homicidal client who would be happy to get out of prison and butcher even more men?”
“I already told you, I have no illusions about who she is.”
“Then why this? All of this? Because I’m pretty sure this is the walking definition of going above and beyond.”
“You’ve agreed to help. Why are you doing it?”
I give her a look. “Because this is my job. Finding people no one else is looking for. I’m in it for Lea, just like I’m always working for the missing.”
“Then we’re in agreement. This is for Lea—”
“No. Because you did all this before you knew for sure if there was a Lea or a way to make contact. You…” I get it then; it hits me like a proverbial whack over the head. “This is your guilt.” I point at each packet of information. “You know you can’t save your client. Keahi will be executed three weeks from now.”
Twanow’s jaw tightens, but for once, she doesn’t prevaricate. “At this point, it would take a miracle for it to be otherwise. In case you didn’t realize, Texas isn’t known for its last-minute stay-of-execution orders.”
“This is your amends. You can’t save Keahi, so you’ll save her sister.”
