Poison in Paradise

By Mari Bailey

Published by Awe-Struck E-Books

ISBN: 1-58749-407-8

Electronic rights reserved by Awe-Struck E-Books, all other rights reserved by author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law.

Prologue

A voice raised in chanting praise sliced through the shimmering waves of sulfuric haze hovering across the night. Flickering torches slit the black curtain settled at midnight across Hawaii, the Big Island.

Lapa ku i Hawaii ka wahine o Pele.

The woman Pele was restless for Hawaii.

The gifts were laid out across the slab of lava rock that was the sacred altar. The sweet ohelo berries which grew only at Volcano. The new coins, shining in the bobbing flame of the torch light. A full bottle of potent gin. Gifts of respect for the great fire goddess Pele. Gifts offered by her child of the islands, with a fervent wish for a volcanic eruption.

Uila Pele e hua'i e

Hua'ina hoi e hale o Pele.

Lightning flames gush forth,

Burst forth with a roar from the house of Pele.

The devoted follower danced, breath coming faster, thrilled at the feel of hot blood pumping through every vein. The odor of the pungent maile leaves rose up into the night, from vines crushed and broken underfoot

Soon, very soon, the final gift would come. The ultimate sacrificial gift to the great Madame Pele.

Chapter One

Matt Kraemer had a good view of the police bust from where he was parked, out of sight of the Hilo Airport main terminal, behind the row of coconut palms. He'd been extra careful so that no one would be able to connect him with those guys. Another leg of the jewel smuggling operation shut down. But that didn't mean he was safe yet.

Things were still pretty sticky on the Big Island and not just because of the humidity. There had been another murder. Time was definitely running out. Bad luck that he'd had to agree to help this mainland woman with her video project. Laura's old friend, Jenna. He was already late meeting her plane but he needed to keep out of sight until the cops were gone. Would Jenna be the same kind of pain Laura was? Moody, unpredictable, sometimes downright grouchy?

Laura had told him Jenna's project was on the fire goddess, Pele. That would put her smack into the middle of everything. Just what he needed. He'd be sure to stick close by her in case she could help him learn a few things. Who knows, she might even be involved. She could be in on it with Laura. He wouldn't tell her right away that he'd be helping her. He'd see if he could learn anything first.

Of course if Jenna was anywhere near as pretty as her friend, that would be a definite perk. Laura had the appearance of an exotic island beauty--always mistaken for a native. He might have been interested in her if she wasn't so messed up. But still, she was nice to look at. That was one of the advantages of working in Hawaii. The scenery was pretty terrific.

* * *

Jenna Morley watched the police leading two men away in handcuffs. Bad first impression of paradise. But right now she had her own problems. Annoyed at the drizzling rain that greeted her, she scanned the front of the Hilo Airport once again.

Stood up. She might have known. Some things about her childhood friend never changed. Even after that desperately pleading phone call Laura made. Some nonsense about threats and murder. Laura always was the one with the overactive imagination and the penchant for drama.

Jenna was about to step into one of the airport taxis waiting at the curb when a black Chevy Blazer, horn honking, pulled up behind the cab. She glanced at the breathtakingly good-looking man who emerged from the vehicle, thinking it was a pity he was here for someone else. She was about to turn back to the taxi when he smiled and waved at her.

"You're Jenna," he called, as if he was telling her something she didn't already know. Seemingly oblivious to the rain, he extended his hand. "Matt Kraemer." He fixed Jenna with a penetrating, puzzling stare. Was she supposed to know who he was? "Laura sent me to pick you up."

Hmm. Laura's taste was improving. Not that he was Jenna's type. None of them were. Ever since Dennis, she had a habit of picking men apart and finding too much wrong with them. It was just like Laura to have some guy around to do her dirty work. An attractive guy.

Matt's forced smile made tiny lines appear at the corners of his dark chocolate brown eyes. There was something hidden deep in those eyes. He brushed a lock of sandy brown hair, streaked from the sun, off his forehead. His Hawaiian tan was like nothing Jenna had ever seen back home in Oregon and his broad chest and powerful shoulders made her wonder what he looked like underneath his bright blue Hawaiian shirt.

"Hello," Jenna finally managed, putting her hand into his large warm one. She stared up at him. "What happened to Laura? I was sure she'd be meeting me herself." Leave it to her irresponsible friend to stand her up.

"Oh, she had one of her headaches. I mean she wasn't feeling well and left the gallery early to go home and rest. Said she hoped to meet you at your hotel for dinner this evening."

Hoped to meet? What game was Laura playing now? An uneasiness, hard to define, bothered Jenna. Maybe she could pump Matt for more information. For a wild moment, she was tempted to try her new hypnotherapy technique on him. Perhaps she could break through that impenetrable something she saw in his dark eyes. He would make an intriguing subject.

"Are you an associate of my friend, Mr. Kraemer?"

"Please, it's Matt." His smile widened, showing a set of game-show perfect white teeth. "And, no, I'm not. I work in the same general area. I'm a DJ for Radio station KHHI."

A disc jockey, just like Dennis was. Another term for lazy bum as far as Jenna was concerned. Just like Laura to be lured into a hoped-for, impossible relationship.

"Hey, lady! You taking this cab or what? I ain't got all day!" The burly taxi driver was still holding one of her bags.

Matt's unexpected arrival had made Jenna forget all about the taxi she'd been about to take. Flustered, she turned to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I'd been stood up but now someone's come for me after all."

Shaking his head, the cab driver dropped the bag where he stood, gave the pair an annoyed glare and muttered, "Haoles!" before heading for the airport snack shop. He seemed to have no problem, however, with taking the dollar Jenna held out to him for his trouble.

"What did he say--'howlies?'" she asked Matt.

He laughed, an unexpected, light-hearted chuckle. "No, Jenna. 'Ha-o-les,'" he stretched each syllable out. "The islanders' term for the white man or mainlander. People who weren't born here. Like you."

"Are you a haole too?" she asked, testing the word carefully on her tongue while again eyeing his deeply tanned skin.

"Technically speaking, yes. I originally come from Chicago. But I'm pretty much accepted now. You make a lot of local friends, being in the radio business around here."

I'll bet, she thought. More beach bums like yourself, no doubt. And groupies. There were always groupies hanging around.

"And enemies," he added suddenly. There was something about Matt that Jenna couldn't put a finger on right away. His eyes were deep and brooding, and she thought she saw a flash of something telling then, just as quickly, hidden by a sudden turn of his head.

"You know, you're going to have to learn some of the more popular Hawaiian and pidgin words if you want to survive around here," he said, tossing both her suitcases into the back of the Blazer and reaching a hand out for her carry-on. He gave her a swift, head-to-toe glance that sent an immediate shiver up her spine, then added, "We'll have to get you some island clothes too. Muu muus, sarongs, maybe a pareau."

Jenna didn't even know what some of those were. Except for muu muus. Fat women's clothes. Why would he want her dressed in those? His idea of a joke? She glanced down at her pink silk blouse and cotton floral wrap skirt, then glared up at him. "We? Look, Mr., uh, Matt. I know we just met and I don't mean to be rude but I'm quite capable of picking out my own clothes, if you don't mind. Anyway, I think these are fine."

The words were oddly clipped and her voice much colder than she'd meant to sound. But he had annoyed her. In the first place, there was nothing wrong with her clothes and in the second, well, she didn't plan on seeing any more of him after he dropped her off at her hotel. Just because he was one of Laura's friends doing her this small favor didn't mean he could expect to have any control over her while she was here. She'd had enough of that in her life.

He lifted an eyebrow at her words but didn't say anything, just opened the car door for her.

"So this is your first trip to Hawaii? Laura tells me you're a TV producer here on a job." He guided the Blazer easily away from the airport curb. Jenna watched the hypnotic swish of the wiper blades across the windshield.

"That's right. I'm producing a documentary on Pele, the--"

Matt interrupted her with a long, low whistle. "The Fire Goddess. You must be one brave lady."

"What makes you say that?"

"Most people are afraid to mess with Pele. Except for the haoles who don't know any better."

"Would you care to expand on those cryptic comments?"

"Sure. Basically it's like this. Pele is the most respected goddess in all the islands. But she's also feared, and especially on this island."

"Because of the still-active volcanoes?" Jenna broke in.

Matt flashed her a quick grin. "I see you've done your homework. That's a definite yes, because anyone who's seen the damage an eruption causes is always going to be afraid."

"That's understandable."

"But it's more than just that. There are superstitions too."

"Such as?" She wanted to hear what he had to say, even though she had done her research in this area, too. After all, hearing firsthand stories from the islanders was one of the reasons she was here. But Matt was suddenly shaking his head.

"No, I don't think I'll tell you any of them yet. You've only just gotten here and I don't want to scare you away so soon. Anyway," he added, swiftly changing the subject, "I want to point out some of the scenery as we go by."

Jenna turned her head, wondering how close they were to any volcanic activity. That was what she couldn't wait to see. She noted the lush greenery through the steady rainfall, and peered grimly at the gray sky. Idly, she wondered when Matt had gotten his great tan.

"This rain might clear up anytime," he interjected as though he'd read her thoughts. "It comes and goes, as they say. It'll be gorgeous when the sun comes back out."

She continued staring out the side window. Hawaii wouldn't have been Jenna's first choice for a trip, business or vacation, but she had no choice. Her station manager back in Oregon wanted this documentary made and he had chosen her to do it. Most of the video footage was already in the can by way of the film crew that had come to the Big Island last month. Jenna's task was to research enough to write the narration, which she'd record as a voice-over when she got back. She was probably in the minority but Hawaii was a place she had never thought of as Paradise. Maybe it was unfair to blame Dennis' hometown just because he'd broken her heart. But she couldn't help herself.

"Most people don't take it so seriously the first time they see the islands."

Jenna nearly jumped at Matt's intrusion into her thoughts. She felt a slow flush creep up into her face.

"I guess I have a lot on my mind," she defended. "This is a working trip after all."

"Work, huh? That's a dirty word to some of us around here."

"Like disc jockeys?" The words were out before she could stop them.

Matt appeared to take no offense. "Yeah, I guess a DJ's life isn't too hard. Play some music. Talk story a little bit."

"Talk story?" She frowned at the unfamiliar phrase.

"Sorry. Island slang for making conversation."

"I see. Like what we're doing now?"

"More or less. Say, you really don't know much Pidgin, do you?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I know it's a sort of broken English mixed in with words from the different dialects that were brought here, but the bits and pieces I've heard up to now have sounded like some sort of foreign language to me."

He laughed. "Foreign language, eh? I guess it is at that. But hasn't Laura managed to teach you some by now? She's lived here five years."

"Yes, well." Jenna was uncomfortable. She wasn't about to tell this stranger that she and her old friend, until Laura's phone call last month, hadn't spoken to one another in all those years. Ever since Laura ran off to Hawaii with Jenna's fiance. Jenna didn't even know Dennis was dead until that call. Dead for six months. None of it was any of Matt's business, whatever his relationship to Laura. He was probably just another of her temporary playmates. An undeniably attractive playmate, Jenna had to admit.

She noticed they were turning into a narrow, curving street, lined on both sides with the most unusual trees Jenna had ever seen. Dark masses of towering, twisted arms reaching for the ground like snakes. She had never felt threatened by a tree before, but something told her she didn't want to be in a forest full of them after dark.

"This is Banyan Drive," Matt explained, "So named because of those trees you see along the road. You might like to take a walk along here sometime and look at the plaques in front of each tree. They were planted by some pretty famous visitors to our island."

"Really?" She noted his use of the term "our island," and briefly wondered just how long a person had to live here to feel that kind of possessive familiarity.

"How long have you lived here?" Suddenly, she wanted to know.

For some reason known only to himself, he laughed. "Ahh, not as long as I would have liked," he said, then abruptly returned to the subject of the weather.

Why the non-answer to her simple question? Did he have something to hide?

"It rains an awful lot here," Matt was saying. "Over a hundred inches a year."

He kept up his weather report for several more minutes, until they pulled off into a circular driveway fronting a pristine white hotel.

"Here we are, The Banyan Tree Hotel. Original name, isn't it?" He jumped out of the Blazer and went around to help her out, then retrieved her bags from the back. Signaling a bellman, he handed them over.

"I'll just go park the car, then meet you at the front desk."

"You don't need to stay while I check in. I'm sure I'll be fine. I really do appreciate the ride from the airport, but I've taken up enough of your time."

"Not to worry. I've got hours yet before my radio show. I do the graveyard shift. Anyway, Laura made me promise not to leave until I'd seen you safely checked in."

A man who took his promises seriously. Jenna wondered if her weak smile as he turned back to the truck showed her non-delight in that bit of information. Was this guy planning to follow her up to her room? At what point would she finally get rid of him?

She walked up to the front desk and gave her name to a cheerfully smiling clerk wearing an aloha shirt gaily splashed with yellow, orange and red exotic blossoms.

"Aloha!" he said in greeting. "First time visitor?"

Did she look that much like a sore thumb? Jenna nodded.

"Den I'll explain--'aloha' means 'hello.' It also means 'goodbye' but we save dat for when you check out."

He continued grinning broadly, apparently quite pleased with his welcome and, Jenna was sure, waiting for her to take the bait.

Okay, she'd bite.

"How can it mean both hello and goodbye? It's illogical for a word to have two opposite meanings."

He chuckled. "Oh, ho! Dis one can. You just wait. You go to da dinner show in our Banyan Grove Restaurant tonight and you see. Dey'll sing you da 'Aloha Means' song, den you see."

"Yes, I'll be sure and do that." She smiled, both at his friendly welcome and at the curious island speech. She wondered if the Pidgin English would sound normal after awhile.

He checked the reservation on his computer, then handed over the guest register for her to sign. She noticed the faint exotic island music piped in from somewhere up above. The desk clerk glanced at the computer screen again and selected a room key from under the counter.

"Here you go, ma'am. Room 413." He pronounced it "tirteen." "You don't mind dat number or are you superstitious?"

"No, the number's fine. It doesn't bother me at all."

The man's dark eyes twinkled. "Oh, ho," he said again. "You not superstitious, eh? You find lots of superstitious people in dese islands. But our superstitions much more serious dan da number tirteen." He winked, then referred back to the computer and reached for another room key.

"Here you go," he said, handing her the plastic key card. "Only one problem."

Oh, oh. Now what? She waited patiently for the colorful explanation that was sure to follow.

"Not big problem," he assured. "Room not cleaned yet." He looked at the big round-faced clock on the wall behind the desk. "You wait, maybe one hour, den room be ready, okay? Meantime, we take bags up for you. Oh, and here's messages for you."

She accepted the key and the papers he thrust in her hand and mumbled thanks. She picked up the shoulder bag she'd left at her feet and turned just in time to see Matt walk in the front door. Quickly, she explained the problem with the room, finishing with, "It's not very long so I'll just sit here in the lobby. There's no point in you waiting with me."

But he wasn't having any of this argument either. Flashing a smile she was sure made some women swoon, he took her arm and led her across the lobby and toward a dark narrow hall. "Just enough time to have a drink in the bar. Much more fun than sitting here by yourself."

He held up a hand to stop her added protest. "Besides, it's almost pau hana time."

"Pau hana? Okay, translate."

"Gladly," he agreed, still pulling her along towards the growing sounds of mingled voices and laughter. "Pau means finished, and hana is work, so..."

"So, pau hana is to celebrate the finish of the work day, like happy hour." She laughed, unable to keep herself from the spirit of his game.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit, cave-like room. Matt led her over to one of the small round tables and pulled out a chair. She sat down, feeling the immediate loss of his warm hand on her arm.

"Let me order one of our really exotic drinks," he suggested. Definitely a take- charge kind of guy. Why fight it? She was tired after her long flight and could use a good drink. She nodded her okay and he called the waitress over and mumbled an order Jenna didn't hear.

Jenna wasn't sure what she expected but it wasn't the huge drink the waitress placed in front of her. She placed another one in front of Matt, collected her money and left. Jenna stared cautiously at the colorful monstrosity. A frosty glass filled with amber liquid and topped with fresh island fruit, a small purple orchid, and one of those ridiculous paper umbrellas in bright turquoise. The fruity aroma tickled her nostrils.

"I thought these only existed in sitcoms." She laughed, leaning forward to take a tentative sip through her straw.

"It's good!" Jenna was sure amazement was written all over her face.

"I'll bet you're normally the 'glass of white wine, please' type of lady." Matt's voice held a teasing tone.

"I'm afraid I am. Is that just too too boring?"

"It is in Hawaii," he assured her.

"What's in these, anyway?"

"Ah, it's an old island secret, but I'll let you in on it just this once." He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, a list that included rum, orange curacao and several fruit juices.

With his head bent so close to hers, Jenna felt a strange shiver trickle down her spine at the crisp outdoor scent of his cologne. Sand and salt, like he'd just stepped off the beach. She pulled away, hoping her movement was not too abrupt.

Now what? Jenna thought. The idea of sitting here for the next hour trying to make polite conversation was not thrilling. Especially since Matt seemed to urge her thoughts into places she didn't want them to be.

Knowing she ran the risk of seeming like a lush, she talked little and drank quickly, hoping to make a quick exit. No such luck--Matt was in the mood for polite conversation.

"Have you worked in television long?"

She swallowed the fruity mixture, enjoying the recognition of sweet pineapple on her tongue, then nodded. "Several years now." Her answer was deliberately vague. "I got started in radio. In California." Now why did she add that?

Matt, a bright gleam in his brown eyes, pounced on it. "So. You used to be one of those dreaded disc jockeys you seem so disapproving of."

Jenna wondered if the warm flush creeping into her cheeks was a result of his observation or the liquor she was drinking too fast. Maybe a little of both.

"I got bored with it and went on to television." Now why did she say it like that? The wince he gave made her feel small and petty.

"Anyway," she hurried on, "I got into producing after a few years, and did a show on the big Mount St. Helens eruption. That's what gave me the right background for this project, according to our station's executive producer."

Matt nodded his understanding. "Makes sense. How do you intend to approach your topic?" Before Jenna could stop him, he'd signaled the waitress for two more drinks. She hoped it wasn't a long way to her room.

"The working title for this project is 'The Pele Mystique.' I want to learn as much as I can about the fire goddess, all the local legends and superstitions surrounding her. How people feel about living so close to her, the fear of destruction at her hands, that sort of thing."

"Are you a superstitious person yourself, Jen?"

She sat up taller in her chair at his casual shortening of her name. It sounded so intimate, the way it came from the lips she'd found herself looking at more than once. Stop it, Jenna.

"Am I superstitious?" She repeated his question, struggling to clear her head. "No, I'm not. But I'm interested in the island superstitions as a part of their culture."

"By now you've done your background research. How do you explain the strange things that happen shortly before an eruption? The people who claim they actually see Madame Pele, in one of her many forms?"

"I think the human mind is a powerful instrument, capable of influencing all of our senses. I'm sure people who claim they have seen Pele actually have seen her. Her image can be very real. But I don't believe every person could see her, no matter what the pre-activity of the volcano may be."

"That sounds like way too scientific an approach for my poor brain. But I translate it to mean you think those who have seen Pele are those with good imaginations. Am I on the right track?"

Was this guy's mind so limited or was he just pretending in order to irritate her? She'd had enough of him for right now. Besides, her insides were swimming like they'd been tossed into the Pacific Ocean that she was mere footsteps away from. Too many big Hawaiian drinks. Pretending not to notice his penetrating gaze, she began gathering her purse, her carry-on bag and the hotel room key.

"This has been really nice, Matt, but I think I can check into my room now. I want a chance to lie down for a bit and then freshen up before I meet Laura for dinner." She stood, not giving him a chance to prolong their encounter any further. Matt opened his mouth, then clamped it shut and stood with her.

"Well, it's been nice having the chance to get to know you a bit," he said, giving her the impression he didn't know her at all.

They walked as far as the front desk where she thanked him again for the ride and the drinks, then turned purposefully toward the elevators.

A few minutes later, she stood on the balcony outside her room, looking out across Hilo Bay. Matt had been right about the weather clearing. The sun was suddenly shining sparkling jewels across the water. And, where only moments ago angry gray clouds had loomed, there was a gorgeous rainbow. Such a magical transformation in so short a time. Was that one of the reasons people called it paradise?

From somewhere below, Jenna caught the soft strains of Hawaiian music wafting across the breeze. She breathed in the salty sea air and sand, reminded suddenly of the enticing beach scent Matt wore. She'd love to spend some time on the beach this week. Her mind formed an imagined picture of Matt, bare chested and wearing scanty bathing trunks. Where had that thought come from?

She squinted towards the horizon, wondering if she'd be able to see a volcanic glow after dark. A sudden, unexplainable shiver tickled her spine and she hugged her arms around herself. Come on, Jenna. You've never been afraid of the dark.

She turned and went back into her room. The spread over the queen-size bed was alive with a vivid pattern of orange, gold and green birds of paradise. The night stand, chest of drawers, table and two chairs were all woven in rattan and bamboo. There was a small settee, covered with the same colorful fabric as the bed. Above the bed hung a painting of multi-colored tropical fish.

She smiled in surprised satisfaction at her exotic surroundings. It was so different from hotel rooms or office decor back home. The vivid colors and bold patterns definitely let her know she was in Hawaii. Then she remembered the last puzzling conversation she'd had with Laura, and the curiously guarded welcome she'd gotten from Matt. It was enough to remind her not to get carried into the carefree Hawaiian tourist trap. This was a working vacation, and a time for settling some long, overdue problems with Laura.

Jenna unpacked her bags quickly, putting everything away. In the bathroom, a long tub with a selection of seashell-shaped soaps and tiny bottles of exotic bubble bath beckoned. But she would want a long soak, not just the quick one she'd have time for before meeting Laura for dinner. A fast shower would have to do for now.

Later, Jenna twirled in front of the mirror in her blue floral sundress, scowling when she remembered Matt's observation of her need of more appropriate island apparel. She wondered what he'd think if he saw her in this outfit. But why was it suddenly important to win his approval? She shouldn't let him shake her confidence.

Suddenly, she remembered the still unread messages she'd been handed at the front desk. The first was from Laura, as she'd expected, saying what time she would meet her for dinner in the hotel lobby.

The second message was in a plain white, sealed envelope, with her full name printed neatly across the front. Puzzled, she tore the flap and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. There, in precise block letters, bold black against stark white, were two lines.

GET OUT HAOLE.

DEATH TO THOSE WHO CHALLENGE PELE.

Chapter Two

Jenna stared at the block printed letters of the note she grasped in her hand. Fear shot straight up from her stomach, clenching a fist in her throat that threatened to smother her.

Jenna didn't rattle easily. She was too toughened by the rough deal life had dished out five years ago, too accustomed to people letting her down, too experienced in dealing with unexpected crises from her years in broadcasting. Someone obviously didn't want her here but who? No one even knew she was coming except for Laura and now Laura's deejay friend, Matt.

Was her friend up to some of her old hateful tricks again? So many times when they were growing up Laura had told lies to get Jenna in trouble with her parents. Oh, nothing big at first. Just little niggly things.

Like the time Laura borrowed--and spilled--Mrs. Morley's best perfume and set Jenna up to take the fall, scenting Jenna's own clothes with the spoiled fragrance.

Once, shortly before Jenna's senior prom, Laura had told the boy Jenna most wanted to go with that Jenna had called him an immature creep. Jenna was heartbroken and confused when he asked someone else.

But those things were nothing compared to the dirty deed Laura was working up to. She had definitely reached her pinnacle when she stole Dennis away from her. Jenna looked down at the note she'd crushed in her hand. It was so easy to suspect Laura after what she'd done. So easy to expect Laura to make her life miserable one more time.

Why had she come to Hawaii anyway? Sure, there was the Pele project. She was determined to get her work done. But leave it to Laura to throw a crimp in her plans.

Jenna grabbed her handbag off the bed, stuffed the note inside and left the room to meet Laura. They definitely had a few things to discuss.

The hotel lobby was nearly empty with no sign of Laura. Was she going to stand Jenna up here too? Jenna was a fool to get involved with her devious friend again. But what if Laura was telling the truth for once? What if she was in some kind of trouble here? Her comments on the phone had been too cryptic to make Jenna understand. Just like Laura to keep it vague, teasing, letting out information a bit at a time.

Jenna wandered around the lobby, taking in the decor. Anything to keep her mind from spiraling its way onto more suspicious imaginings about her estranged friend.

The lobby furniture was similar in style to what was in her room, standard tourist decor, she guessed. But Jenna couldn't keep her mind from returning to that note. Once you've been threatened, it was hard to enjoy what might have been pleasant island surroundings.

Jenna was drawn to the elaborate flower arrangements adorning virtually every surface. But suddenly, even the flowers looked sinister. She knew the heart- shaped red anthuriums and the fragrant gingers, but there were many unfamiliar flowers too, as well as more orchids than she'd ever seen in her life. One arrangement made Jenna stop cold. Black flowers.

She never expected to come to Hawaii and see black flowers. She felt a sudden prickling at the back of her neck, as if the tiny hairs were all standing on end. The flower's petals were spread out like wings and a tail, with long spiny legs emanating from its center.

"Pretty gruesome, isn't it?"

Matt Kraemer was suddenly standing right beside her.

"The flowers? Yes, they are. I've never seen anything like them before."

"It's called the bat flower, normally found in jungles."

"I'm not surprised. And what are the others?" The bat flowers were paired with a spiky orange and red flower, the tips of the orange spikes covered in black.

"Parrot's beak heliconia," he said, as if it was as common as a daisy. How did a disc jockey know so much about tropical flowers?

Jenna was about to ask when suddenly he took her arm and led her to a bamboo table near the front entrance. His touch, like earlier that day, brought a sudden heat to her bare skin. Matt picked up a delicate pink petaled flower and held it out to her.

"Hibiscus," he said, seeming to enjoy his game of name-the-flowers. Did he ever get serious about anything?

"Thank you," she murmured, holding the flower up to the front of her dress. He was seeing her in the dress after all. She wondered if he still wanted to put her in a muu muu. "It's very pretty."

"But you don't pin it on your clothes. You wear it in your hair."

Of course, she should have known that. What was it about this man that made her act like an idiot?

"Here in Hawaii, the side you pin your flower on is very significant. If you're a married lady--or otherwise taken--you wear it above your left ear. But if you're available and looking, you wear it over your right." He looked at her expectantly. Slowly, deliberately, Jenna tucked the hibiscus in over her left ear.

His dark chocolate eyes narrowed at Jenna's choice. But her action, done deliberately to spite him--her "availability," after all, was none of his business--only made her heart beat more furiously in her chest, like a caged bird struggling for release. Did Matt know she was currently unattached? That she had been for some time?

Jenna felt a hollowness in her stomach, and the burning impulse to move closer into his penetrating gaze. It had been so long since she'd been affected by a man. So long since she'd been touched by a heated caress. So long since love's sweet passion had consumed her. Something told her she would find that passion with Matt. But something stronger told her to keep away. Far away.

She struggled to regain her composure, to slow the rapid beating of her heart. This man was playing a dangerous game.

"Are you still here from this afternoon, Matt? Or have you just come back?" He'd probably been in the bar drinking all this time.

"I've come back on some business. I was about to leave when I saw you wandering around the lobby looking lost."

He made her sound like a lonely pathetic creature. Was that the kind of woman who fell for his charms?

Jenna glanced around the lobby, thinking of Laura for the first time since Matt spoke to her. Funny how he could erase her other thoughts like a chalk board.

"I'm supposed to meet Laura here. She's already late."

"She goes by Hawaiian time." He eyed her expectantly. These people liked to leave you hanging. Okay, she'd bite this time too.

"What exactly is Hawaiian time?"

"Well, Laura said she'd meet you at seven, right? There's the slim chance she might come at seven, or she might show up at eight or even nine o'clock. Or, she might come tomorrow morning. That's Hawaiian time. Whenever you get around to it."

"Sounds like pretty rude behavior to me," Jenna commented, instantly regretting the surly sound of her voice. Matt was going to think she was a real crab.

His look told her she was right. "Hey, lighten up. You won't have a very good time here unless you do."

"I'm not here to have a good time," she reminded him. "I'm here to work on my video project and to...settle a few things with my friend. If she ever gets here," she added sourly. Jenna knew she sounded like a pain but nothing had gone right since she'd gotten here that afternoon. For one crazy moment she was tempted to ask Matt if he could make any sense of the threatening note.

But what if he sent it?

Once again she thought of hypnotizing him. Learning whatever secrets were hidden behind those dark eyes and long thick lashes. No, she had to get away from him. Being this close was making her lose track of her priorities. When was Laura going to show up? If she showed up.

Matt looked uncomfortable for the first time since they'd met. "Laura will be here sooner or later. Cut her a little slack, okay? Things have been rough. But, listen, I need to get out of here. If I don't catch a few hours of sleep before my show, it's going to get pretty rough."

He touched Jenna's arm again in an intimate gesture, then was gone, leaving her feeling winded and in sudden need of catching her breath. She felt like she'd chased him away too. But she'd wanted him to leave.

Yes, but she didn't expect to feel so empty once he did.

She walked out onto the veranda to wait for Laura. There was no telling how long it would take her to show up, if she did at all. Even though this was mainly a working trip for Jenna, there were a few personal things that needed settling too.

What was wrong with Laura, anyway? Jenna knew she never had much self- discipline, nor the ability to be organized, to set goals and stick to them. The only goal Jenna had ever seen her reach was when Laura took Dennis away from her.

But, no, that wasn't fair. Laura had also learned her jeweler's crafts, some of them self-taught, and was apparently carrying out her dream in running a shop.

Jenna moved further out onto the deserted veranda and settled down in one of the white plastic chairs. She could still keep an eye on the hotel lobby from where she sat. Maybe she'd spot a few suspicious characters, like whoever had written that note. She couldn't be sure it was Laura.

Within minutes, her thoughts had drifted back to Matt Kraemer. What business could have brought him back here tonight? How close were he and Laura?

A young couple wandered arm in arm out onto the veranda. They stopped at the railing and looked out across the glassy bay. The man nuzzled his face against the woman's neck, and she turned her head to receive his kiss. Lovers in paradise.

Jenna's heart had never felt so empty. She tried unsuccessfully to push aside the little jealous feeling that was closing in. She wondered what it would feel like to have Matt's strong muscular arms around her, imagined his warm breath against her neck. But no, she couldn't be attracted to Matt. It had just been too long since she'd been close to any man. Too long since a man had nuzzled against her neck. Too long since she'd been held and kissed. But Matt--

"What are you doing sitting out here?" Laura's impatient voice cut through her dangerous thoughts. Jenna stood and faced her childhood friend for the first time in five years. God, Laura was still gorgeous. Even scowling like she was now. Her dark hair was longer, streaming in gentle waves halfway down her back.

She wore a stunning red and black flowered dress, and a magnificent pendant with an unfamiliar stone hung around her neck.

Laura engulfed her friend in an effusive hug and kissed the air beside her cheek. Jenna stiffened slightly beneath the hug. She was puzzled by Laura's quick change in welcome. Plus, old wounds were hard to heal.

"You look lovely, Laura." It was the truth, except for the deep crease in her forehead. Matt had said she had a headache.

Laura had always been the pretty one. Another case of the plain friend and the younger one.

Suddenly, Laura seemed to remember her impatience and stood glaring at Jenna with her arms folded across her chest.

"I've just spent the last hour waiting for you in the hotel restaurant. It's a good thing I came down here for another look when you didn't show."

"But, Laura. Your note said to meet you in the hotel lobby. I've been there and on this veranda for the past hour waiting for you."

Laura eyed Jenna suspiciously, as if her mind was trying to translate the words. She pulled at a lock of hair and began twirling it around her fingers, a habit Jenna remembered from her early teens. Laura seemed confused and agitated, where only seconds ago she had appeared pleased to see Jenna, then mildly angry over the misunderstood meeting place.

Then, just as suddenly, she smiled again. "Whatever!" she announced, linking her arm with Jenna's and heading through the hotel lobby towards the elevators.

"Where are we going?" Did Laura want to go up to her room and order from room service, for heaven's sakes?

"To dinner, of course, silly. There's a marvelous place right in this hotel up on the very top floor. It's a revolving restaurant that turns ever so slightly while we eat so we get to see lots of great views."

* * *

Laura was right about the view. They were lucky enough to be given a table right at one of the windows so they could see everything perfectly. The restaurant revolved very slowly, so slowly that they'd probably never be aware it was moving if not for the changing view. Sometimes they had the ocean view while at others, they looked inland. Jenna hoped she could catch a volcanic glow from up here.

"This restaurant is called Banyan Treetop," Laura gestured vaguely around them, "named for those old trees out there," she babbled on.

Jenna recalled the desk clerk had mentioned another hotel restaurant, the Banyan Grove. Everything seemed named for those trees. Those trees that looked so sinister and threatening.

"Laura, we have to talk."

"Wait, let's order drinks first. You can't say you've been to Hawaii until you've tried all our tropical drinks."

Jenna remembered the powerful punch of the ones she'd had with Matt that afternoon. Still, she followed her friend's lead and picked a Mai Tai. At least she'd had them before.

Laura tapped her fingers on the table during an uncomfortable silence, then burst into hurried speech. "I couldn't believe it when you finally answered one of my letters. After all these years. Thank God for this volcano assignment of yours. I was getting desperate."

"About what?"

"A reconciliation."

"Why?"

Laura's eyes grew wide. "Because you're my childhood friend. That means something to me."

"Really?" Jenna wasn't deliberately trying to be difficult. It just came out that way. Old wounds do act up.

Laura jerked her head suddenly when the waitress returned with their drinks. She seemed nervous, plucking at one strap of her sundress. Again, she twisted a strand of her hair.

"Come on, Jen. You can't still be sore about Dennis. That's old news. You and he were never right for each other anyway. Can't you see that now?" She twirled the straw, clinking the tiny ice cubes around in her glass.

"I'm sorry, Laura, but I really don't buy this story of friendly reconciliation. What else is going on? And what can you tell me about..." she pulled the note from her purse and laid it on the table in front of Laura. "What about this?"

Reading the threatening message, Laura's eyes grew wide, then a flush crept up into her cheeks.

"I don't know anything about it, Jen. Honest."

"Then why do you look so guilty?"

"Guilty! No. I'm not. It's just that...well, I've gotten some notes like that too. Just the other day, one was about you. Warning me to keep you away. I don't know who..."

"Who knows I was coming? How many people did you tell?"

"Only Matt. And the family, of course."

"Family?" Laura had never been close to even her own parents.

"Yes, Pearl and Tutu. Dennis' mother and grandmother. Just them, Jenna, I swear."

"Pearl and Tutu? Those are strange names. What are they like?"

"Tutu means grandmother in Hawaiian. Everyone's always called her that for as long as I've been here. Her real name is Iolani Hanoa. Pearl is her daughter."

"What are they like?" Jenna asked again.

Laura's eyes narrowed and she threw an uneasy look over her shoulder. Turning back to Jenna, she waved in a meaningless gesture and resumed tapping her fingers.

"Oh, they're all right. Tutu's kind of spooky, always telling old legends and stuff. Ghost stories, most of them. Pearl's kind of okay but I get the feeling she half blames me for losing Dennis."

"That reminds me, Laura. I tried to call you from the airport, when no one showed to pick me up at first. The strangest person answered. She kept repeating the same thing--'La la not here. La la not here.' Then she hung up on me!"

Laura grimaced at Jenna's puzzled expression. "La la means 'Laura' in Hawaiian. That was Tutu. She's the only one who calls me that and I hate it. But when someone is eighty-four, you pretty much have to let them do what they want."

"Okay, I've got that. Now what about these notes?" Jenna still wasn't sure Laura was innocent but decided to keep it to herself for now.

Laura's face had gone pale and she rubbed her forehead as if trying to erase the unpleasant thoughts. Or that deeply-etched crease. She took a small enamel pill case from her big straw handbag and swallowed a couple of tablets.

"I've been getting these dreadful headaches."

The waitress returned and took their dinner orders.

When she left, Laura sipped her drink a moment then gave a heavy sigh and looked around the room. When she spoke, her voice was a conspiratorial whisper.

"There are strange things going on here. Strange things about Dennis' death. I'm afraid all the time. I keep thinking something else is going to happen. Someone else is going to get killed."

"Why didn't you explain things better when we talked before? When I was making arrangements to come out here. You dropped a lot of hints but didn't give me a straight answer about anything."

"I was afraid you wouldn't come if I told you. And I needed you to be here."

"But why?"

Laura's eyelashes fanned out over her tanned cheeks. She looked almost shy.

"Remember when we were kids and sometimes I was scared at night when I slept over at your house? Scared of the dark. And you made up the Night Fairy." Laura was blushing again. "You told me all about this wonderful magic fairy who was always there to make sure nothing bad happened to little girls who were afraid in the dark."

Jenna smiled at the childhood memory. It was a long time since anyone had spoken of the Night Fairy. Laura continued.

"Anyway, I guess because you could always make it better then, I was hoping you could do that now. Make it better."

She fumbled in her handbag, then pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over to Jenna.

The block printing was the same. Bold black against glaring white.

KEEP YOUR FRIEND AWAY OR SHE DIES TOO.

Jenna read the words over and over again, but their impact never changed. She felt as though cold hands were squeezing somewhere at her heart and her stomach. Laura had gone pale and was digging in her handbag again.

"Laura, what are you doing?"

She had taken out the pill case and was removing another couple of tablets.

"You just took some pills a few minutes ago."

"Did I?"

Her face was a study in mingled confusion and fear. "But I have this headache--"

Jenna reached across and took the tablets and the pill case from her, returning the pills and snapping the little case shut with a determined click.

"What exactly are these, Laura? Are they prescribed by a doctor?"

"Of course. They're for my headaches--I told you that."

"Look, I don't know what you're on or what you're involved in but I think it's time you told me the whole story."

"I got the note in this morning's mail at the shop. I panicked."

"Were there other notes before this one?"

"No, but there have been phone calls. At the shop. A lot of hang-up calls when the others answer but someone spoke to me a couple of times."

"What did they say?"

"Different things. Once they said, 'beware the Night Marchers.' Another time it was something about Pele."

"Pele, I understand but what are the Night Marchers?"

"It's from an old Hawaiian legend too. It's a long story but they lead people to their deaths."

"Night Marchers and the fire goddess. Are you sure someone isn't playing some kind of sick joke?" Could Matt be behind this? What would he gain by scaring Laura?

Laura's eyes suddenly turned dark and narrow. "Why can't you take me seriously now that I'm telling you the truth? I am, you know." She twisted the linen napkin in her lap.

"I'm sorry. But you have to admit it sounds peculiar."

"There are a lot of people here who take the old Hawaiian legends very seriously. You'll find that out when you start talking to the locals about your program."

Jenna didn't respond and Laura added, "Dennis' grandmother, especially. Tutu. I swear she drives me crazy with this stuff sometimes."

"Do you think Dennis' grandmother could have anything to do with this? Or his mother?"

"Not Pearl. No way. She's one of the sweetest ladies I know. Even if she did get a little weird after Dennis died. Really obsessed with her plant hobby. And as for Tutu"--Laura shook her head--"she may be a little more weird, well, I shouldn't really call her that. She's just an old-fashioned Hawaiian, a real believer in the old ways."

"The gods and goddesses, the spirits and what have you," Jenna said, for clarification in her own mind.

Part of her, the sane, rational part, said that superstitions were the result of lack of education or fear of the unknown. Or what she'd told Matt about the power of people's senses. It was another thing that kept her fascinated with hypnotherapy. But another part, the part that avoided walking under ladders without a second thought, for instance, made her uneasy.

Laura reached across the table and grasped Jenna's' hand.

"Please, Jen, you have to help me."

The urgency in her voice was clear. Suddenly Jenna felt the part of old friend again, in a way she'd let go that day she found Laura in her own fiance's arms.

"Listen, Laura, you're going to have to tell me the whole story, nothing held back, from the beginning, if you expect my help. I want to help you but I'm not sure what it is you expect from me."

She sank back in the chair with a sigh. The waitress cleared away their mainly untouched dinners with an expression of concern, asking whether they hadn't liked the food. After reassuring her it had been fine, they asked for coffee which she immediately brought, then left them alone once again.

Laura took a long sip from her steaming cup, then leaned forward.

"What I need to do, Jen, is learn the truth about Dennis' death. I don't believe it was accidental, as the official police report shows."

"But didn't you say he fell into the water while fishing?"

"Picking opihis--tiny shell creatures that are a delicacy at luaus--they cling to the sides of slippery rocks and there are often accidents when pickers lose their footing while trying to dislodge them."

"Is that what happened to Dennis then?"

Laura lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "That's what the police report says happened to Dennis. But I don't believe it. Our friend Tony was with him when it happened. Tony was injured too. And, he's had a blank spot in his memory ever since. But he told me once he remembered something Dennis said or did that wasn't quite right."

"But he can't remember what it is."

"Right. That's one of the reasons I need your help. I need you to help Tony remember what happened the night Dennis was killed."

Laura drained the rest of her coffee and sat looking at her friend expectantly. It suddenly dawned on Jenna what she wanted.

"You want me to hypnotize him?"

"Of course. I thought you'd realize that right away. Your Mom told me about your great new sideline."

"Hypnotherapy isn't magic, Laura. I can't guarantee anything. You know I haven't done this for very long and not everyone makes a good subject."

Jenna knew Laura and her Mom still kept in touch but she was still surprised.

"You have to make him remember." Laura's words sounded desperate and she looked like she was in the early stages of an anxiety attack.

"You can do it, Jen," she insisted. "Take Tony back to that day and make him remember everything that happened."

"I'm not at all sure I can help him. Perhaps he should go into counseling. He could need a medically trained professional rather than a part-time hypnotherapist like me. I've only ever handled behavioral changes like smoking, over-eating, that kind of thing."

"But Tony needs your help. Please, Jen, you've got to help him. And me too. If you can make him remember what happened that night--"

"Do you think someone is afraid of having Tony remember too much about the accident? That's why the threats to the both of us?"

"Yes, I think it's all related. I'm not sure why they mention Pele and the Night Marchers. Maybe just 'cause they're spooky stuff," she suggested. The look in her dark eyes pleaded for help.

As the waitress refilled their coffee cups with the rich fragrant Kona blend of the islands, Jenna made her decision. It was time to put the old hurts aside. Whatever Dennis and Laura had done to her was no more. Being here for her TV program would no doubt give her the freedom to poke around and ask questions. Her hypnotherapy training gave her another edge. If there were any secrets to learn maybe she was just the one to learn them.

"All right, Laura, I'll help you. At least I'll try. I'm not even sure there's anything I can do. First of all, I'll need you to tell me everything, from the beginning and in detail. Now let's pay our tab and go up to my room where we can talk more privately."

Laura's face showed immediate relief and she dug some money out of her purse, leaving it on the table for a tip. They gathered their things and stood to go. Suddenly, Laura put her hand up to one side of her head, grasped frantically at the table for support, then pitched head first into the aisle.

Chapter Three

Matt set his third Coke down on the Banyan Treetop bar. This was turning into an extremely long day, but he had sworn to follow Jenna's movements until she turned in for the night. He was getting too old to play the well-rounded, all- knowing, all-doing kind of guy. And he was getting tired of the lies and deceit.

But what would happen if he started telling the truth around a woman like Jenna? It was scary, the way he was immediately attracted to her. Truth to tell, he didn't especially want her to know about that attraction.

Get your mind off her, Kraemer. This is just like all the others. This is just a job.

"Hey, what'd you think about last night's Rainbows' game?" the bartender asked. Matt was just about to answer that he'd only caught the last half hour of the basketball team's final game of the season, when he became aware of the sudden frantic buzz of voices coming from the restaurant.

He rushed over, catching sight of Jenna and several other people clustered between tables.

"What happened to her?"

"That poor woman. Is she all right?"

"She must be sick."

Matt broke through the tangle of interrupted diners and bent quickly to Laura's side.

"Call the hotel doctor!" He threw the order over his shoulder after taking in Laura's flushed skin and fluttering eyelids. Reaching for one limp wrist, he felt for a pulse.

"I can get the house doctor in twenty minutes. I'll send for an ambulance too." The restaurant hostess fled back to her reservations desk.

"No ambulance," Matt shouted after her. He touched Laura's forehead. Cold and moist. Just fainted, as far as he could tell. He turned to see Jenna kneeling at Laura's side, her hands clenched at her sides, her brow deeply creased. She gave him a perplexed look.

"Oh, Matt! Thank goodness you're here."

Jenna's face was pale and she nervously chewed on her bottom lip.

"She's only fainted, hasn't she, Matt? It--it's nothing worse, is it?"

Nothing more, if he could help it. Damn. Was this the start of some other evil? Something he wouldn't be able to stop?

"Tell the hostess to send the doc up to your room," Matt ordered Jenna. "Give her the number."

Matt gathered Laura up in his arms. Jenna returned and picked up her friend's handbag, then fell into step behind him. He ignored the curious stares and whisperings of the people they passed on their way to the elevator.

"That poor girl."

"Do you think she's dead? Look how her arms just hang there."

"No, I think she just fainted."

Laura was okay. But they'd better have someone check her over anyway. Jenna pushed the elevator button, then glanced automatically to the lights over the door. She chewed a fingernail, worry still etched across her forehead.

Laura was regaining consciousness when Matt laid her down on the bed in Jenna's room. She blinked several times, finally seeming to focus on him leaning over her, brushing the hair back out of her face.

"How're you feeling, Laura?" She attempted a weak smile, winced and put a hand to her forehead.

"Matt. What's going on? What happened to me?" She tried to push herself to a sitting position, but fell immediately back down onto the pillow. "Was it--? Who did this to me?"

"No one did anything to you. You fainted in the restaurant and I carried you up here to Jenna's room."

Her eyes widened. Again she tried to sit up. "You did? Why?"

He chuckled, hoping to ease the frightened look in her eyes. "What do you mean, why? You'd rather I left you lying there on the floor for people to step over? It was my duty to come to the rescue of a lady in distress." His light-hearted attempt failed. She looked scared to death. Of what? It was time he found out. He couldn't delay much longer. People were getting hurt. It was getting too dangerous to take it slow.

"The doctor will be here in just a few minutes," Jenna announced after phoning upstairs to the restaurant, adding, "I don't know if that's Hawaiian time."

"There's a doc on call for the Banyan Drive hotels. Lives just a few miles away. I don't think it will be Hawaiian time."

He turned back to Laura, taking one hand between his two, taking note of her fingers' icy coldness. "I've got to get out of here. Time to go play deejay. You'll be fine, I can feel it." Liar. Well what was he supposed to say to her?

"I'm fine really. I don't need a doctor," Laura insisted. But her pale face and trembling hands were contradictory. She plucked at the white hotel sheet with nervous fingers. Matt had the feeling she was right on the edge of something bad. But what? Did it have anything to do with that big opal pendant nestled at the base of her throat? Expensive bauble, even for a jeweler.

"I don't need a doctor," Laura repeated. "I hate all this fuss being made over me. I'm fine. Really."

"Shush now, Laura. You'll see this doctor." Jenna's voice was firm, causing Matt to wonder at her taking up the role of protective friend again so quickly. Laura told him they had a falling out years ago. Five years ago. Maybe their reconciliation would do Laura some good. Get her out of whatever mess she was involved in. He'd already been in Hawaii long enough to know the volcano wasn't the only thing on the verge of erupting. This place was turning out to be a playground for all sorts of slippery characters.

Matt stood up to leave and nodded at Jenna's thanks. He suddenly found himself noticing that her eyes were an unusual mix of blue-gray, highlighted by glints of green and yellow. They gave her a mysterious, cat-like quality he found intriguing. His gaze lowered to her mouth and he thought it too bad her full lips were drawn into an intense frown. The lady needed to loosen up, smile a little more. Those rose-tinted lips were made for more than frowning.

Yeah, Kraemer. Like kissing.

The thought hit his chest, and the part of his defense system that kept him free from female entanglements kicked in. There was something dangerous about being close to Jenna Morley. He'd felt it ever so slightly that afternoon. But now? Now his defenses were telling him it was time to make a quick exit.

* * *

Something had happened when Jenna walked Matt to the door, the way he stopped and looked at her, really studying her face. Her eyes and--was she mistaken?--her lips. For one wild moment she thought he wanted to kiss her.

You've been without a man for too long, Jenna. Now you're imagining things.

How did Matt appear so suddenly after Laura fainted? Had he been drinking in the bar? Oh, great, Jenna thought. A beach bum disc jockey with a drinking problem! Or perhaps he was the jealous type and had been spying on her and Laura.

Jenna had picked up a few other things besides a flaky boyfriend to worry about on her first day here. Matt was dangerous in other ways. Ways she couldn't quite put a finger on yet. Ways that warned her to keep her distance.

Then there were the threatening letters she and Laura had both received. Plus Laura's claim that Dennis' death had not been accidental. Was Laura telling the truth these days? Would Jenna be a fool to trust her again? She needed to talk to Laura some more. Maybe get a few answers this time. But for now one concern took priority. What was wrong with Laura?

An hour later, Jenna stood at the railing of the narrow veranda outside her hotel room, gazing at the night sky. The rain had cleared up and now the stars shone against a background of indigo blue and wisps of white. It should be soothing, she thought. Soothing. But it wasn't. Not with a thousand questions hammering at her brain. Laura hadn't just fainted. Jenna knew it, felt it with a sureness from deep in her gut. But she couldn't put her finger on anything specific there either. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pin it down.

"Miss Morley?"

Jenna turned to see the doctor coming out onto the veranda. He had introduced himself as Dr. Mahuna. Except for his dark Hawaiian skin and rounded middle, he reminded her of one of those TV doctors, someone you knew right away you could trust. Trust. Yes, that was the word she'd use. Patient, kindly face. Reassuring gray hair at the temples. Gray hair he'd earned over the years.

"Your friend is fine for now. I've examined her and could find no reason for her to have passed out. She told me she's been under a lot of stress and sometimes that alone is enough to cause that kind of physical reaction."

"But what about her headaches, Doctor? Did she show you the pills she took at dinner?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stevens showed me the pills and told me why they were prescribed. It's a common medication given for muscle tension headaches. The headaches don't sound at all like anything serious. And I'm acquainted with the prescribing doctor. He has a fine reputation and you can be sure she's receiving the best of care. I'll send a copy of my report to him in the morning."

"So it sounds like her doctor is already treating her for stress."

"Yes, that's why I suspect stress is what caused her to faint. I've also given her some sleeping medication just for tonight."

Jenna thanked the doctor and walked him to the door. She peered out, half expecting Matt Kraemer to pop up again, but the corridor was empty. She was annoyed to realize she felt disappointed.

Dr. Mahuna paused out in the hall. "I'm not her regular doctor so it's hard for me to say. But I do get the impression she's emotionally keyed up about something. Might be wise to consider help for that, anyway." He left Jenna to brood over his suggestion. Should she mention psychiatric counseling to Laura? How would she react? Would she be violently opposed?

When Jenna turned back, Laura was sitting up in bed. She smiled in a hesitant way, once again twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She didn't look much better than she had at dinner. Psychiatric counseling. The phrase hovered at the edge of Jenna's mind like an annoying itch.

"Well," Jenna said, pushing it aside, forcing herself to sound cheerful, "there doesn't seem to be a whole lot wrong with you that a little rest and relaxation won't cure." The words popped back, stubborn, insistent. "The doctor thinks you're under stress," she added more cautiously. There. She'd said it. Now let Laura come unglued and get it over with.

Laura's eyes narrowed in suspicion. A quick denial spluttered out. "Not me, Jen. No way. My mind doesn't need any help. There's nothing wrong with me. But Tony's mind does need help. Help you can provide."

Tony? For a moment, Jenna had forgotten about the friend Laura was so insistent she hypnotize.

"I'm serious about wanting you to help him. I have to tell you..."

"You're not telling me any more tonight, Laura. What you need is a good night's sleep. So why don't you lie back and give that sleeping tablet a chance to work? You can tell me the whole story in the morning. Do you need to call your mother-in-law so she won't worry about where you are?"

Laura frowned. "Yeah, I guess I better tell her I'm staying with you."

Laura picked up the bedside phone and punched in the numbers. Jenna watched the way her friend's lips were pressed together, as if she was holding her breath.

"Hello? Tutu? Let me talk to Pearl." Laura's instruction sounded curt, impatient. "Pearl? It's Laura. I'm going to be staying at the Banyan Tree with my friend tonight. I didn't want you to worry when I didn't come home." She listened, looked at Jenna with a roll of her eyes. "No, no. Everything's great... What? No way. Tell her I'll take care of it when I get home tomorrow."

Jenna listened, unable to help herself, puzzled by Laura's lie and the cryptic, one-sided conversation.

After the call, Jenna sat on the edge of the bed. Lauralooked wan in the teal green silk nightgown Jenna had lent her. She certainly didn't need tucking in. But Jenna fought down a niggling sense of impending doom. She was being crazy. Feeling a twinge of guilt perhaps, because she and Laura had never had it out about Dennis. She wasn't about to do that now. Maybe not ever. Maybe it didn't matter.

Jenna watched her unexpected and, truth to tell, unwanted roommate yawn and snuggle back into the pillow. With a strained smile, Laura said almost shyly, "All of a sudden I feel like everything's going to be all right, Jen. You'll look after me now, won't you?"

That was a twist. Jenna couldn't help feeling a tug of the old big sisterly protectiveness she'd felt sometimes years ago. Before there was Dennis.

"Of course I will. Didn't I always when we were kids?"

"Jen, I'm really sorry...about Dennis and all. We couldn't help--"

"Shhh, not now, Laura." And not ever, if Jenna could help it. "Just go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Maybe she shouldn't have cut off Laura's apology. Was it because she still couldn't bear thinking about the man who had in turn been loved by both of them?

She reached out to switch off the bedside lamp, noticing for the first time Laura's necklace and earrings lying on the nightstand. The pendant Jenna had noticed earlier now captured her attention. She picked it up for a closer examination and was drawn by the unusual elegance of the stone. Unlike anything she had ever seen before, it was a flurry of colors--reds, yellows, blues, greens, oranges.

"Laura, did you make this necklace?" she blurted.

"Mm-hm," came the sleepy voice. "The opal. My latest piece."

"It's gorgeous."

The stone had been cut differently from the normal round or oval shape so common in pendants. It was an amorphous shape, either cut that way by Laura or possibly in its natural state. The opal was set into a thin layer of gold in such a way that the gold appeared liquefied and dripping around and over the stone's edges. The pendant hung on a fine gold chain.

"This stone is incredible. What is it?" Suddenly, Jenna had to know.

"It's a fire opal. From Australia."

The opal seemed alive and warm in Jenna's hand and she had trouble taking her eyes off it. She finally set it back down on the nightstand and turned out the light.

"You do lovely work," she said softly, getting up to get ready for bed herself. She would take the extra blanket and pillow she'd found in the closet and settle on the settee. But Laura's sleepy voice drew her attention back to the bed.

"Never should've touched it," she slurred the words. "Too much trouble." Within another moment, she was asleep.

What did Laura mean by that? Jenna wondered. Was the fire opal difficult to work with, or was she referring to something else? What kind of trouble?

She was exhausted by the time she'd changed into a nightgown and settled down on the settee. Laura's even breathing from across the room told her she was resting peacefully at last. Why hadn't Jenna asked the doctor for one of those sleeping tablets herself? Never mind how tired she was--her mind was awake and buzzing over the day's puzzling revelations.

She sat up and turned on the small light next to her, reaching for the local newspaper she'd purchased down in the lobby earlier.

Suddenly, the bedside phone erupted in a shrill ring. Jenna started, got up to answer it before it awakened Laura. But it was too late. Laura was sitting up, the receiver tucked between shoulder and neck.

"Hello?" Jenna saw the quick anger sweep across Laura's face.

"Leave me alone!" her friend's words ripped through clenched teeth. Laura listened for a moment. "Hah! That's what you think," she said, then slammed the receiver back down on its base.

"Who was that?" Jenna asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Laura glared at her. "Not a single solitary thing." She drew the last few words out emphatically, syllable by syllable. Another lie.

Jenna watched Laura punch down her pillow, then flop down into it and turn away, her shoulders tensed in a way that dared Jenna to question further. Okay, she'd let it go. For now. But she'd want to know in the morning.

* * *

She picked up the newspaper again and glanced through it distractedly. Most of the words filtered through her mind ineffectually, preoccupied as she was with Laura's erratic behavior. She was just about to give up and lay the paper aside when the headline of an article on the back page caught her eye.

OLD WOMAN SIGHTED ON VOLCANO ROADS: COULD IT BE PELE?

Jenna read with sudden interest:

The third sighting within two weeks of an elderly woman described as "a wrinkled hag," has been reported by Big Island visitors. Hilo and Volcano areas are already alive with rumors of another volcanic eruption.

Legend has it that Pele the Volcano Goddess appears in the form of an old woman when she wishes to test the kindness of the mortals she meets. According to a couple of island visitors, who wish to remain anonymous, they gave a ride to a woman they found hitchhiking a few miles away from the entrance to the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. She reportedly got into the back seat of the car, slamming the door behind her. But when the driver turned back to ask her where she wanted to go, the woman had vanished. The couple has decided to cut short their Hawaiian vacation and head back to Minnesota a week early.

Volcano investigators are still working on another case, the accidental, so far unrelated deaths of two tourists to the area last month.

By the time Jenna had finished reading the article the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Her fingers clutching the newspaper were trembling and she once again felt like there was a cold hand squeezing her insides.

What was the matter with her? This is why she was here after all. To investigate the volcano goddess Pele as a part of Hawaiian culture and superstition. She should be eating up this stuff with relish.

It's those damn threatening notes making her feel edgy--it had to be.

Of course the local newspaper would play up a story like this and make it into a big spooky incident. She was surprised they hadn't added wisps of smoke coming out of the old woman's ears.

Jenna found the idea amusing and felt her insides settling back to normal. Then she remembered something else. Hadn't Dennis once told her something about leaving what belonged to Hawaii there in the islands?

He'd even teased her about wanting him to stay with her permanently in California rather than letting him return to the island of his birth. Was she going to be punished for that, even though Laura eventually brought him back to his homeland? Did his being snatched away from life while still in his youth have anything to do with a payback?

Now you're being stupid, Jenna!

She was really letting her imagination run away with her. Even if there was anything to these Pele legends, Dennis was killed by the ocean, not by anything to do with the volcano.

With that thought in mind, Jenna was folding the newspaper to set it on the table for the night when another headline caught her eye.

CUSTOMS OFFICIALS INVESTIGATE SMUGGLING OF RARE AUSTRALIAN OPALS

She scanned the article quickly, but sleep was finally catching up with her. Reluctantly, she put the paper down, turned out the light and gladly surrendered, only to toss and turn for the next six hours.

Every ominous legend she had ever read about Pele seemed to parade through her dreams that night. She saw the fire goddess in every one of her imagined forms.

In one dream, Jenna encountered Pele as the beautiful young maiden, her long blonde hair swishing seductively around her shapely hips. Pele stood on a jagged arm of lava rock jutting out into an ocean of smoky blue. Wisps of steam rose up from the water lapping at the young maiden's bare toes. She laughed and reached a long tanned arm out before her, beckoning enticingly.

A young man was suddenly walking out along the rocks, stepping carefully onto the finger of lava to join her. She held her arms open for this tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned man wearing swimming trunks, and he stepped willingly into them.

Pele laughed again, a rich throaty sound rising up out of the gentle swell of her belly, half-bared by the scarlet length of cloth tied low on her hips. The man turned in her arms, laying his head on her shoulder, and Jenna saw that it was Dennis! Then Pele, her arms wrapped around his body, began stepping backwards, nearer to the lapping tongues of ocean water that were suddenly not so gentle.

Dennis turned and looked at Jenna and she called to him. "Be careful, Dennis, break away! She'll pull you down with her, Dennis, she's trying to kill you!"

But Pele kept backing away until she and Dennis both stepped into the ocean, seeming to balance on water for the merest second, before the ocean swallowed the two of them into its waiting jaws.

Jenna woke to find her face wet with tears, and she scrubbed at it with the edge of her blanket. She punched the too-flat pillow in the darkness, then lay back down and drifted off again.

She was driving a car along a twisting deserted road. It was a black Chevy Blazer--Matt's car--but she was alone. She was lost and the only thing she could think was to keep driving farther and farther ahead. She was bound to come to something sooner or later.

Up ahead, a blurry shape began to take form--no, wait--two shapes. People. Hitchhikers on a desolate road like this? Her stomach clenched in on itself in fear but she had to stop for them. She couldn't just leave them out here.

Drawing closer she recognized Matt Kraemer. But who was the old woman with him? Such a wrinkled and bent creature Jenna had never seen before in her life. Why, the woman must be a hundred or more!

Matt was smiling as she braked to a stop and he opened the back door to help the woman in. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't stopped for us. You've got to be our last hope," he said, climbing in beside the woman and slamming the door shut.

"Where are you two going?" Jenna asked, turning to glance over her shoulder into the back seat. And gasped in shock when she saw that there was no one there. On the vinyl seat where she would have sworn her two passengers sat, was nothing more than a few spidery wisps of smoke.

Jenna moaned in her sleep and murmured aloud. "Matt."

The old woman had spirited him away. Where had he gone?

Then Jenna was on foot out on an open field. As far as the eye could see were mounds, both jagged and smooth, of black lava. The dark formations glistened in the sweltering sun and Jenna wiped beads of perspiration off her face, even as she felt the trickle of sweat down her back and along her arms. Her feet, too exposed in their strappy summer sandals, were blistered and cut raw.

The sky above her was pulsing blue and white-hot. But on the horizon everything was red, the glowing red of a blazing fire. She knew she was about to meet Pele in her most basic and terrifying form--the powerful, temperamental deity of fire.

As she got closer, she could feel more of the heat, like the blast of a giant furnace door open in her face. Then suddenly, she saw the crater, a massive yawning mouth spewing flames high into the air.

So this was Pele, dancing in all her glory of spewing red, yellow and orange flames with billowing smoky pillows of white, black and gray.

Jenna shaded her eyes and squinted up at the mass of pulsating patterns over the pit. Somehow she was not surprised to see a face taking shape there, the great Madame Pele in blazing magnificence.

Fingers of smoke drifted out to Jenna, tangling themselves in her hair and around her neck, drawing her closer and closer to the edge.

"What have you brought to offer me?" Pele hissed across the heated breeze. "Where are my gifts-s-s-s?"

Jenna shook from both fear and the trembling earth surrounding the boiling cauldron. How could she tell the fiery goddess she had brought nothing? But suddenly, though Jenna didn't speak, Pele knew. Knew she had come empty- handed.

"I will take your soul then, as I have taken the others-s-s-s."

Rings of smoke rose out of the deity's mouth as she laughed, rings that settled above the flames and showed her the shocking pictures of those Pele had already destroyed.

Dennis. Laura. Matt.

Chapter Four

Jenna woke, clutching the pillow to her mouth to stifle the scream that bubbled up from deep in her dreams. The taste of sulfur was strong in her mouth. She peered through the darkness, and was relieved to see by the moonlight shining through her hotel window, Laura's sleeping form on the bed across the room.

Her old friend was safe.

Jenna lay back, breathing deeply, from her toes, slowly up to her head, using the power of her mind to still her trembling body. The self-hypnosis always worked.

Once again she slept, dreamless, peaceful at last.

* * *

Matt Kraemer poured himself another cup of coffee and settled down back at the announcer's desk. His radio shift was almost over and he couldn't wait to hit the sack. No surfing this morning. He'd been stretching himself too thin these last few months.

His mind sifted through the events of the day before. Jewel smugglers' arrests. Get acquainted with Laura's friend from the mainland. Keep an eye on both ladies all evening. Rescue Laura and see her and Jenna settled in the room.

He'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours and, except for the arrest he'd provided the lead for, hadn't accomplished a heck of a lot.

No leads on Dennis' death, the one he'd been put at this radio station to nose around about. Dennis had worked here until two months ago. Had it only been two months since Matt had fled Chicago and landed in paradise? Seemed like he'd been here a lot longer. At least he felt safe here. He was pretty sure no one had followed him. But he had a whole new set of problems.

The tourist killings started first. There'd been six of those in the past year. He still hadn't figured out if they were related to Dennis' so-called accident and the jewel smugglers. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad that Laura wanted Jenna's help in coping with it all.

All it meant for now was that he had an extra woman to keep an eye on. But going by first impressions, keeping tabs on Jenna Morley might just be one of the better jobs he'd ever done.

* * *

The morning following her series of Pele dreams, Jenna felt bleary-eyed and exhausted. But she perked up as she made it through a breakfast of luscious macadamia nut pancakes drizzled with a sweet coconut syrup. And plenty of strong Kona coffee. They ate at the hotel's glass-walled cafe with a view of the ocean. There were so many potted palms and hanging plants everywhere it made Jenna feel like they were sitting in a greenhouse. No looming banyans or black bat flowers here.

Laura, looking miserable after last night's disaster, did little more than toy with her food. Jenna hoped she'd at least get the story out of her, the one she'd insisted on trying to tell the night before. But Laura was quiet and sulky, repeatedly twisting her over-worked strands of dark brown hair.

"You wanted to tell me about Tony," Jenna prodded, hoping to nudge Laura in the right direction. Not that it mattered to her. She needed to get started on her Pele video project and Tony wasn't her problem.

Laura's expression lifted at the mention of his name. Just how many boyfriends was Laura keeping these days? How many had she stolen from other women?

"Tony does my hair." Laura's eyes were vacant and a little too bright.

Patience, Jenna. "What was it about Tony you wanted to tell me last night?"

"Oh, Tony's a good friend of mine. He was Dennis' friend too but then Dennis got killed. Tony was real different after that."

"Why don't you tell me all about Tony? From the start." Jenna, finished with her pancakes, set her fork down and picked up her just refilled coffee cup. She sat back to listen, noticing how little Laura had eaten.

"Well, his name's Tony Pereira. Like I told you, he does my hair. But he used to be a model too, on the side. Did ads for Liberty House, fancy stores like that."

"That's great, I guess," Jenna commented, knowing Laura would take her usual long-drawn, evasive way before getting to the point with her and how she was supposed to help this hair stylist/model named Tony.

Laura watched a drizzle of syrup trickle off her fork onto a pancake. "He wanted to be an actor some day," she added, looking at Jenna expectantly.

"That's nice too. But can you get to the point now? All of you people might be on Hawaiian time but I can't afford to be. My project has a one-week limit."

Laura let the fork drop onto the plate with a clatter. "Chill out, Jen. You're making me nervous."

"I'm making you nervous? Laura, I'm trying to help you here but so far your story about Tony is going absolutely nowhere. Now Tony's a model and a hope-to- be actor. Is he any good at it?"

"He was. He hasn't done a job since the accident."

"Why not?"

Laura picked up her fork again and toyed with it some more. Jenna had the feeling she was trying to arrange her thoughts carefully before answering. Eventually, taking her time and continuing to fidget and look uneasy, she got the story out.

She said Tony was injured more than just emotionally in the accident. He had apparently gone in the water to try rescuing Dennis when a big wave swept him from the rocks. Tony was found unconscious, one leg wedged into a crevice. The rocks had cut him up pretty bad and he still has a couple of nasty-looking scars on his face. Major damage was done to the leg that was caught. The doctors were able to save the leg but he lost two toes and has to use a cane to help him walk.

Jenna set down her coffee cup. "Laura, all of this is very interesting but I can't see what any of it has to do with your claim that Dennis was murdered."

It was the first time either of them had said the word out loud and she watched Laura's face go pale. For a minute she was afraid of a repeat of last night's fainting episode but Laura continued, tugging at the lock of hair she kept wrapped around her fingers.

"I'm getting to that, Jen. But I need to tell you about Tony first. So you'll understand everything."

"Is something going on between you and Tony? Or was there at the time of the accident?"

"I never cheated on Dennis, if that's what you mean." Laura's words were flung across the table. "Just because I once cheated at love, you thought I would just keep on doing it?"

"That's not what I meant, Laura and I'm sorry you're taking it that way." Last night Jenna realized she held no more bitterness in her heart. Laura was her childhood friend, and what happened was long ago. It was time to go on.

"Let's start fresh from here, Laura. I'm your oldest friend and I'm here to help."

Laura's eyes filled with tears and she reached into her handbag for a tissue.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I guess I thought you still hated me for taking Dennis away from you. All those other times I tried to make up--the letters you never answered and all."

Jenna had thrown all those letters away, hoping that if she ignored them, they would eventually stop. She had convinced herself it was easier to deal with the hurt of Dennis' rejection and betrayal if she refused to acknowledge the link that was her own best friend.

"Laura, I never hated you. Oh, I may have thought I did at the time," Jenna responded to Laura's look of disbelief. "But I know now that was the 'little me.' The 'big me' wants to hear the rest of the story, and then I've got to start work on my video. Now tell me more about Tony."

"Before I begin again, I'd better tell you that I do care for Tony in a special way. Not romantically, but he is a very special friend. Although his mother seems to think I've got my claws out to get him."

"His mother? What's she like?"

Laura made a face. "In a word, she's a bitch. Nosy, bossy, overprotective of Tony. Doesn't think any woman is good enough for him. If you ask me, I think she's just afraid someone will come along and replace her as the main woman in his life."

"Laura, do you think she might have sent those threatening notes?"

"Bea? I wouldn't put it past her. I know she'd love to get me out of the picture so she can have Tony all to herself. The first thing she said to me at Dennis' funeral was 'when are you returning to California?'"

Laura's face twitched with dislike--and something more, something undefinable, something close to fear.

Jenna was surprised at the force of the dislike that showed in Laura's words. She reached across the table and put a hand over Laura's trembling one, and recalled the terror she felt in her dream when she lost her into the fiery clutches of Pele. Maybe she was borrowing trouble by letting that annoying worry hover in the back of her mind.

"Dennis was acting a bit strange for a couple of weeks before he died." Laura went on with her story. "He seemed preoccupied, maybe worried about something. When I asked him about it, all he would say was that he'd learned some bad news involving a close buddy and he was trying to decide whether to tell him or not. He said it had nothing to do with me and he wanted to wait until he'd gotten some facts straight before telling me. I'm almost certain that buddy was Tony."

Laura paused while the waitress cleared away their breakfast plates and poured more coffee.

"After the accident, when I went to see Tony in the hospital, I asked him if Dennis had confided in him about anything lately. I figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

"What did he say?"

"He said he couldn't think of anything specific. Then he said the thing that started me suspecting something was wrong. He said, 'It should have been me, but they got Dennis instead.' Afterwards, Tony couldn't even remember telling me that. He hasn't been the same since the accident. It's sort of like, his memory comes and goes."

"Caused by the physical and emotional trauma of the accident, I'm sure. I've heard it happens quite often when someone has been through a shocking experience."

"Such as, if Tony was witness to Dennis' murder."

"Exactly. But let's not get carried away here. It doesn't sound like you have anything solid to base a suspicion on. Murder is a serious charge."

"That's why I need you to help Tony remember," Laura insisted, a desperate edge creeping into her voice.

"So when do I get to meet Tony?"

"Today."

Jenna shoved back an insistent word of warning that popped into her mind. Just meet with Tony and get it over with, she told herself. Then she could get on with her video.

"Okay, let's say I meet with Tony and he agrees to try the hypnotherapy. He still may not remember anything else. Like I said before, it isn't magic. You could be left right where you are now, with nothing more than a slight suspicion and no evidence."

"I realize that. But what about the notes, Jen? Someone took the time to try and frighten you and me. So something must be going on."

Laura reached into her handbag and brought out her pill case. She removed two tablets and swallowed them with a glass of water.

"Headache again?" Jenna was concerned. "Maybe you should see another doctor for a second opinion."

"I got a second opinion last night," Laura pointed out.

"Well, maybe you should see a neurologist. Headaches can be a dangerous sign. Or maybe you should consider a psychiatrist."

"I told you there's nothing wrong inside my head!" Laura, obviously deciding their discussion was at an end, stood and gathered up her things. She picked up the check, glanced at it, and dropped some money on the table.

Jenna could do little more than follow, musing on the changes that had overcome Laura since they'd last seen each other. She could remember a bored teenager who discarded one interest after another as she tired of each one and moved on. Nothing had ever held her attention for long until she discovered art. She had found creating things with her hands to be great fun and showed an amazing talent for design.

The last time Jenna spoke to her a few days ago, she'd commented that Laura's art career was what had finally put some maturity into the, flightier woman.

Laura hadn't made a terrific come-back from last night's fainting incident. When she'd awakened in Jenna's room that morning she'd declared she felt brand new, but Jenna knew she was lying. She'd emerged from the shower looking anything but refreshed. But Jenna had to admit, even wearing last night's rumpled dress, with damp hair and no makeup, she couldn't help but notice how beautiful Laura was. Except for the dark circles and tired lines around her eyes.

Laura wanted to spend the day taking her old friend sight-seeing and shopping, and pouted prettily when Jenna insisted she had better get started on the work she came to Hawaii for.

They were saying their goodbyes in the hotel lobby when Matt Kraemer walked up to them.

Was she going to run into him every time she turned around while she was on this island?

She took in his ragged, cut-off denims and faded blue aloha shirt. His hair was wet and he looked as though he had just stepped off the beach. Again she breathed in the scent of sea and sand. The wide smile he gave Jenna and Laura once more impressed Jenna with its game show host set of teeth.

"Just the two ladies I was on my way to meet. Are you feeling better this morning, Laura?" He cupped her elbow with his palm in a gesture of familiarity.

Jenna was unsure why she was annoyed at his concern. Had she expected him to check back with her after the doctor left last night? She was still wondering why he'd been upstairs at the restaurant in the first place. Did he make a habit of following Laura around? Wonder how he feels about Tony? she mused, just before turning her attention back to what Matt was saying.

"We need to set up some sort of schedule so I know when I'll be working with you. I do have to make sure it doesn't conflict with my radio show, you know."

Now it was Jenna's turn to be surprised. Work closely with him all week? No way. But deep inside her traitorous heart, she felt an urgent tug of secret excitement. She struggled to keep a grip on her slipping composure.

"Working with me? Mr. Kr--Matt, I'm afraid I don't understand."

Matt turned to Laura accusingly. "Didn't you tell her about my new gig?"

"Jenna, Matt is the person who'll be operating the video camera for you on your shoots. That's another reason I sent him to pick you up at the airport yesterday." Laura had the good sense to look sheepish.

"But my station was supposed to arrange through the broadcaster's union for a local television cameraman. You're a disc jockey!"

He looked as though he'd been slapped. "It's a perfectly respectable profession, you know."

"Yes, but I need a camera operator, not a person who plays music." A good- looking person at that. Jenna tried not to be obvious while she studied him. Not merely good looking. What Matt Kraemer possessed was better than good looks. The man positively oozed sex appeal.

"Ahh, let me clear things up. Hilo only has one very small television station with, believe-it-or-not, one camera operator."

"One!" Jenna interrupted. "How does anything ever get on the air?"

"I'll have to take you over there one of these days. It's a very small operation that only produces one local show--the area news, with one newscaster and one camera--and otherwise airs reruns of old programs off of videotape."

Jenna stared at him, her mind digesting what he'd just told her. What kind of place had she chosen for The Pele Mystique? It was that damned easy-going Hawaiian time everyone seemed to live by. It was a wonder anyone worked at all.

"That doesn't explain how I got you as my camera operator." Or why she was here trying not to notice how attractive he was.

"Simple. I used to run camera at a Chicago station some years ago. I'm still in broadcasting here, and have kept up my union membership, where I am also listed as a camera operator. So, it looks like you're stuck with me, boss. When do we get started?"

Matt was actually enjoying her discomfort, Jenna could tell. Stuck with him, he'd said, plucking the words right out of her own head. How in the world was she going to get any work done with Laura's latest playboy beach bum helping her? Especially when the sight of him made her want to grab his hand and head for the bedroom.

Laura scowled at the unlikely pair, made some vague excuses and walked away. Jenna had the feeling she'd wanted to stay and act the guard dog over Matt.

"Meet me at the shop when you're through, Jenna," Laura tossed over her shoulder before leaving the hotel.

"Well, boss, looks like it's just you and me."

"Please don't call me that." Jenna was suddenly in a sour mood. She refused to be a fool and yield to his abundance of charms. He wasn't going to treat her like one of his groupies.

"No problem, Jen." She didn't know if that was worse. Only Laura and Dennis had ever called her by her shortened name. She refused to let him get that close to her. Refused to let herself think about how close she'd like to get. Refused to consider the possibilities of a week-long island fling just for the pure pleasure of it.

Warning bells blared in Jenna's mind. Instinct told her it was a bad idea to spend too much time in Matt Kraemer's company. He set entirely too many dangerous reactions pulsing through her. Reactions she'd allowed to remain dormant far too long. If anyone could get her hormones out of hibernation, it was Matt.

She took a moment to weigh her options. She definitely needed a camera operator with her. It would be impossible to do her project without one, and it appeared he was it. No matter if she was wary of this man with the casual air she so disliked, she couldn't deny that she needed him. She also couldn't deny his physical appeal. His rich chocolate brown eyes looked as though they could see clear through to her soul. His touch seared her skin and made her long for more. So much more.

"All right," she said on a heavy sigh. "I guess we'd better have a briefing meeting right away so I can fully explain the project."

She glanced around the now busy hotel lobby looking for an appropriate place.

"Shall we go to your room then?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said, shall we go to your room? So we can discuss your project."

His innocent expression made Jenna realize she had overreacted. Her heart was thumping so loudly against her chest cavity she involuntarily took a step back so he wouldn't hear, then felt her face flush at her own foolishness. Why did this man make her behave like a schoolgirl?

"Don't you think it would be difficult here with all this noise?" he added.

Of course he was right. But alone in a hotel room with a man who was probably used to young women--radio station groupies--throwing themselves at him. She remembered the ones who hung around Dennis in his California radio days. He even had the nerve to tell her he'd slept with a couple of them before he met her.

She wondered how much like Dennis Matt was when it came to women. Well, he was in for a shock if he expected her to be captivated by his charms.

Still, he was good-looking. Jenna had to admit he was very nice to look at. Broad shoulders and tanned arms she imagined wrapped around her body. No, she had to stop that. Stop noticing how physically appealing he was and get on with her work. Anyway, in a week she'd be gone and he could tempt some other woman with his dangerous appeal.

They stood side by side in the small elevator on the way up to her room. Once again she was aware of his masculine scent, somehow mingled with a bit of the fresh sea air.

"Were you out swimming before you came here this morning?"

"It would have been surfing," he clarified. "I go surfing every morning at sunrise. Almost every morning. This morning I went home and hit the sack. But I'm usually out there. There's little that affects me as much as watching the sun come up over a rolling surf."

Jenna tried picturing it, sunrise on the beach, and had to admit the setting appealed to her.

"You're welcome to join me any morning." Had he read her mind?

"What do you do when it rains?"

His eyes glistened like chocolate syrup when he smiled. "Ahh, liquid sunshine. Anyone who's lived here awhile isn't going to let a little rain cramp their style."

When they reached her room, Jenna silently thanked the efficient housekeeping staff that had already been in to make the bed and straighten up. However, she felt a slow flush rising into her cheeks again at the appreciative glance Matt gave the shimmery white silk nightgown she had draped over a chair. Quickly, she swept it up and folded it into a bureau drawer, then moved her briefcase to the table and motioned to one of the chairs.

"Why don't I start by giving you a quick summary of the program I have in mind, we'll go over the notes I've prepared, and then you can ask me any questions that come to mind." She hoped her voice sounded calmer and more authoritative than she felt. Why did this man make her so jumpy?

The way he looked with such interest at her sheer nightgown had something to do with it. Plus being in this room with him alone in such close proximity to the queen-size bed. For a few wild seconds she let herself imagine his naked body stretched out on that bed. She wondered how much of it was tanned.

Jenna handed him the outline she'd prepared and launched into the project.

"My working title is The Pele Mystique, and it's a documentary about the Hawaiian people and their beliefs about the volcano goddess. I want to delve into the legends surrounding Pele, get feedback from both local people and visitors, and investigate any sightings of her in any of her forms. My main job is to write the text that will be the voice-over to the documentary."

She glanced from the sheet of paper over to Matt to see if he was with her, and was unnerved to find his eyes glued to her and his own notes lying unread on the table in front of him.

"Matt, you're not following along."

"Don't need to. I've got everything you said right up here." He tapped his forehead and continued looking at her.

Why were his eyes focused on her mouth? Did he have to do that to listen to her spiel? With a heavy sigh she looked back at her outline.

"I'm also hoping to try something a little different. If I can get some of the people who claim to have seen Pele to agree, I want to hypnotize them in order to learn what their subconscious mind has stored away from the experience."

Jenna looked at Matt again but his expression showed no surprise. Laura must have already told him about her hypnotherapy studies.

"How did you get started in hypnosis?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Hypnotherapy," she corrected.

Jenna thought back to her earliest interest in hypnotherapy. "I took a couple of psychology courses when I was in college in California, just because I've always found the human mind a fascinating instrument. One of them touched on using hypnosis to help people--not just people needing behavior modification therapy for things like smoking, but others too--people who have serious emotional problems, fears that interfere with their lives. Fear of speaking in public, for example. Some people are even afraid to leave their homes."

"Agoraphobia," Matt contributed. "I've heard of using hypnosis for pain-control too."

"Yes, you're right. There was a student in my class who was a private care nurse. She was planning to study hypnosis to help her cancer patients. She said hypnosis for pain control can be so helpful that sometimes pain medications can be decreased or even discontinued altogether."

"You seem so fascinated with this, Jen. Why didn't you go into nursing yourself?"

She shook her head. "I haven't got what it takes to get through all that scientific and medical training." She hoped that didn't make her sound like a wimp, afraid of the sight of a needle or a little blood.

"Anyway, that was my first interest in hypnosis. Then a few years ago, when I worked as a researcher for a business channel in TV, a hypnotherapist appeared as a program guest. She talked about the benefits of using hypnotism in the workplace, for everything from eliminating phobias to breaking bad habits to inspiring confidence. Some people in high-stress jobs use self-hypnosis techniques to help them relax."

"So doing research for that show rekindled your interest." Matt was studying her with what appeared to be approval.

"That's right. Then I found a hypnosis learning center, went through the program, and became certified." She felt suddenly proud of her accomplishment.

"Are you planning to videotape the hypnotherapy sessions?" he asked, getting their conversation back where it belonged. She was glad. This meeting was supposed to be about her program, not a session to trade life stories.

"Yes, although I'm not sure that won't be too distracting to the subject. We have to see what happens. If I can't video tape the sessions then I'll record them on audio only and use it for my own information."

"Awesome! I've never seen anyone hypnotized before."

His reaction surprised her. She didn't know men his age used words like "awesome." But then she noticed his expression was that of a kid in a video game parlor.

"Would you hypnotize me sometime? I've always wondered what it would be like."

Something about having that kind of control over Matt excited her.

She recalled her earlier impulse at the airport, when she thought of trying that very thing on him. What secrets would she uncover in this man? Would she find him to be much more complex than he seemed?

Matt was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her answer.

"Um, that's a possibility. We'll have to see how everything goes time-wise. My time here is limited to a week, you realize?"

"Of course. I just thought it would be kind of a kick. New experience and all. I always want to sample everything life has to offer."

His gaze settled once more on Jenna's mouth, causing her to lick her lips subconsciously. Was she one of the things he wanted to sample? The idea was oddly appealing and she pushed the thought aside and delved back into her briefcase, searching for anything that would get them back on the right track.

She pulled out several leaflets she'd obtained from the Volcanoes National Park Service during the program's early planning stages.

"Of course I'll need footage of the volcano area to use during our narration. A video crew was here last month so we already have much of it in the can--lava fields, the local terrain, area landmarks, the Hawaii travelogue kind of stuff. People always like that in a program on Hawaii."

"Hawaiian paradise," he agreed. "No problem. I know lots of settings we can use."

They discussed the program for another half hour, then Jenna tossed her papers back into her attache case and stood up.

"How about meeting me downstairs first thing tomorrow morning, say about eight o'clock?"

"Eight o'clock! You call that first thing? If you want to tape something really spectacular, come out to the beach with me and catch the sunrise over the Pacific. I guarantee you've never seen anything like it."

She hesitated, but had to admit the idea was a good one. "Okay, tell me what time."

"Meet me at the radio station when I get off. Five o'clock. Laura will show you where it is."

"Five o'clock?" Was he out of his mind? What kind of person expected someone to meet them at that insane hour of the morning? "Let me get back to you on that. I'm not exactly the early bird type."

At the door he turned back, seeming unaffected by her hesitation. "We'll have to go up in the chopper too. The views right over the pits are spectacular."

"That's a great idea." She made a mental note. "I'll need to arrange that with someone."

"No need," he said. "I've got it covered."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I can fly a chopper," he admitted casually.

"Well, Matt, it appears the union's given me a man of many talents."

He chuckled. "You'd be surprised if you knew them all, Jen. You really would."

She closed the door behind him and leaned up against it, feeling the delicious thrill that was suddenly tingling through her spine.

Chapter Five

"Okay, Kraemer, better not get carried away this time," he warned himself while pulling his Blazer into a space along Banyan Drive. In his haste to win Jenna's favor had he perhaps stretched his knowledge and accomplishments a little bit too far?

He made a mental run through what he'd already told her. The DJ part was okay, he had that one down. And he was perfectly capable of running a video camera.

Then he'd mentioned "his" paintings Laura sold at her gallery, leaving out the part about the elderly woman who actually painted the island scenes that were part of his cover. He hoped Jenna would never see one of his real paintings. The ones he made to help him puzzle out a case.

Then he'd told her he could surf and fly a chopper. Okay, so he was athletic. Nothing wrong with that.

He hoped he hadn't put it on too thick last night with his pretended knowledge of Hawaiian flowers. Jenna wouldn't know he'd questioned the florist who made the hotel delivery a half hour before she'd come down from her room.

So as far as he could tell the only time he'd gotten carried away was when he suggested Jenna hypnotize him too. No way did he intend to give anyone that kind of control over him. It would be way too risky. Anyway, she didn't seem too keen on the idea so maybe she'd just forget about it.

In the meantime, he could imagine another kind of control he wouldn't mind giving the lovely Jenna Morley. At least it was pleasant to think about.

* * *

"I thought you'd be gone by now." Laura's words to Matt sounded strangely harsh to Jenna's ears.

"I was hanging my latest paintings for you, Laura. Hi, Jenna." He looked pleased to see her, even if Laura didn't.

"Hi." Jenna remembered Matt saying he sold his work at Laura's gallery. Curious, she looked around. What she saw surprised her.

There was much more than the long glass and chrome jewelry counters she had expected. Oil and acrylic paintings hung along all three walls and also stood on easels set up at various points around the room. Sculptures stood on pedestals and on the counter along the front wall just behind the window display.

She had been looking forward to seeing her friend's jewelry, and concentrated on the display cases while Laura and Matt got into a discussion that sounded like shop business. Jenna lost all concept of time as she examined Laura's work, stunned at the beauty in many of the pieces. Her friend had far more artistic talent than she had ever given her credit for.

Laura had transcended far beyond the experimental jewelry she had seen her produce while living in California. Jenna remembered her mentioning something about Laura's special studies in jewelry-making here in the islands, using some of the unique, Hawaiian raw materials.

She apparently favored the volcanic products and there were several showcases with pieces labelled "Pele's Jewels." Small, hand-lettered cards explained what the various materials were.

What looked like small crystals, in shades of delicate yellow-green, were called olivine, and the explanation was that these rare gems, popularly referred to as "Hawaiian diamonds," were found in the volcanic ash. The mineral was actually a magnesium-iron-silicate.

Although Jenna tried to conjure up memories of her college geology class, knowing the mineral content did little to aid her understanding of just how and where Laura had obtained the delicate stones.

She particularly liked a pair of earrings with gold leaves shaping small cabbage roses. Nestled at the center of each rose was a tiny green diamond. She decided to purchase the pair when she had finished her tour of the shop.

In the next showcase, she admired a pendant, glass or acrylic encasing something known as "Pele's tears." Her thoughts went back to Laura's stunning opal necklace they had talked about the night before and she made a mental note to bring up the newspaper article she'd read before going to sleep. The smuggling of rare opals.

Jenna admired the rest of the jewelry, then the sculptures, before turning her attention to the paintings hanging on three walls. The initials "MK" were delicately entwined at the lower right corner of many of the works.

Matt Kraemer seemed to have two specialties when it came to choosing subjects for his paintings. Hawaii's children and Japanese gardens. Jenna walked around the gallery looking at them all. She found both subjects to be strongly appealing. The paintings of children held a certain charm and she noticed the racial mix immediately. The children were Hawaiian, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, and Caucasian, and she remembered reading about the islands being called a "Melting Pot" for the different cultures that had joined together there.

The Japanese garden paintings had a tranquility about them. Jenna had always loved such gardens--there was a beautiful one back home in Portland, that she had visited during each of the different seasons. She liked one of Matt's paintings in particular, a red and gray pagoda-style building atop an arching bridge.

"That's Liliuokalani Park, Just a short walk from here."

Jenna was startled at the suddenness of the artist speaking close by her side. She looked around, surprised she'd become so engrossed in the artworks, she'd totally forgotten about anyone else being in the shop until Matt spoke to her.

"Where's Laura?" she asked.

"She went home," he announced as if that was normal for this time of day.

"What? Why?" And without saying goodbye.

"Another headache." His voice held concern.

"Why didn't she tell me she was leaving?" Jenna felt suddenly miffed Laura's rude behavior. Even if she was sick.

Matt gave a shrug of his shoulders. He didn't appear the least bit put out. Jenna turned back to the painting. What had he called the park?

"Lili--that's quite a mouthful. Would you say it again?"

He smiled, seeming happy to oblige. "Li-li-u-o-ka-la-ni," he enunciated each syllable carefully. "The park is named after Hawaii's last reigning monarch, Queen Liliuokalani." He shrugged. "Why a Japanese-style park would be named after a Hawaiian Queen is anyone's guess."

Jenna couldn't help but laugh, both at his observation and at herself and her awkward tongue. "I wonder how long it will take me to get the hang of the Hawaiian language. If I ever do! I've never heard words with so many vowel sounds in them. All those syllables. It's so confusing."

"You ought to pick up one of those 'Learn Hawaiian Instantly' guides they sell in the tourist shops. But I'll give you a little hint that might help, if you like."

"Sure. I don't think it could hurt anyway."

"There are only twelve letters in the Hawaiian alphabet, very much smaller than our English one. Five of those letters are the common vowels: a, e, i, o, and u. The others are consonants, and no more than one consonant is ever used in a syllable. Once you recognize that, and the fact that you pronounce each syllable individually--a syllable always ends in a vowel, by the way--you should be able to pronounce any word in the Hawaiian language with the utmost of ease."

"Now you're making fun of me," she accused, once he'd completed the long language lesson. She tried to imagine having a good-looking teacher like him and decided she'd never be able to concentrate if she did.

He looked comically aghast. "Me? Now why would I do a thing like that to a helpless tourist?"

"Helpless? I certainly will pick up one of those guidebooks and then I'll show you!"

"No doubt you'll be talking like a kamaaina in no time," he threw back at her with a smug expression.

"A ka-what?"

Matt laughed at her perplexity and she decided he had definitely won that round. Deciding it was time to change the subject, she turned once again to the painting.

"How far away is this park located? Is it within walking distance?"

"Definitely. It's about the equivalent of a city block from here. I'll walk over there with you if you can wait about fifteen minutes. As soon as the shop person gets back from lunch."

Jenna nodded, and Matt disappeared into a room at the back of the shop. Once again she puzzled over Laura's behavior. She had promised--had seemed to want so desperately--to take her over to meet her friend Tony. Now what was Jenna supposed to do? Walk over alone and introduce herself?

It would serve Laura right if she just left without bothering to go to the beauty salon. Let Tony solve his own problems. But, no. That wasn't like Jenna. It wasn't one bit like the woman who studied hypnotherapy in the first place because she wanted to help people improve their lives.

Jenna continued looking around the shop until a teenage girl came in and took her place behind the counter, followed almost immediately by a UPS deliveryman wheeling a cart piled high with cardboard boxes. Matt came out from the back, eyed the delivery and looked disappointed.

"I'm afraid I'll have to give you a raincheck on that trip to the park. Laura usually takes care of unpacking new merchandise but since she's not here..."

Jenna felt more than just a little let down by his cancelling their spur-of-the- moment plans. Going to view the Japanese park with Matt had seemed like a nice distraction after Laura baling out on her. Now she had little choice but to go on to Tony's shop alone.

Yet the minute Jenna stepped out of the shop, Laura was suddenly there beside her.

"I thought you were sick," she accused, wondering once again what game her friend was playing.

"No, I just took a walk. My headache is better so I came to take you to Tony's. Come on." She grabbed Jenna's arm and urged her forward. Jenna decided to just let it go. For now.

They walked past three or four shops and then Laura pulled her through a door marked "Tony's Hair Design."

Although Laura had described Tony pretty well over breakfast that morning, Jenna was still surprised at what she saw.

Tony Pereira was sitting on a high, wheeled chair behind an elderly woman whose silver-blue hair he was in the process of combing out. His eyes sparkled when Jenna and Laura walked into the room, and he waved his wide-toothed comb in greeting.

"Be with you in about two minutes," he called above the sounds of a rock and roll song Jenna recognized as an oldie from the Sixties--"Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man." "Have a seat."

Laura plopped down in an orange vinyl beanbag chair. There were two others- -hot pink and avocado green--not exactly today's fashion colors. Jenna opted to stand and walked over to the flashing jukebox in one corner. It didn't take her long to realize it was filled with Sixties hits and Sixties hits only.

Looking around the rest of the shop, Jenna felt like she'd stepped into a time machine that was stuck in that one popular era. Psychedelic rock and British Invasion posters decorated every available wall space and she read the names of different groups she knew from an oldies radio station she sometimes listened to and others she'd never even heard of. The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, Jefferson Airplane and the Strawberry Alarm Clock.

One poster with a lemon yellow background read in black letters: War is not healthy for children and other living things. She vaguely recalled hearing the saying somewhere before. While poking around an antique shop perhaps.

A lava lamp, the first real one Jenna had ever seen, stood on a side table. Magazines were stacked on other tables, and she glanced through a few, actually surprised when they turned out to be current issues. She'd half expected them to be thirty years old.

She stole a quick look at the hairdresser as he worked, noticing the woman in his chair held his complete attention. Yes, he had been old enough in the Sixties to participate, unlike herself and Laura. He looked to be in about his mid-forties. His hair was dark brown with flecks of gray and he had a high forehead, long sideburns ala Elvis Presley, and long glossy strands flowing freely to just below his shoulders.

His mustache was thick and straight above his mouth, striking Jenna as unusual because it did not curve even slightly like most mustaches. She noticed two scars, one slanting across his left temple, the other wider scar running across his cheek and jaw-line.

Tony gave the woman's hair a final touch and then whipped her plastic cape away with a flourish, declaring his magic done.

Jenna watched him grab a cane to help him out of his chair, then walk to the counter where he collected his money and the customer's praises. When the woman had left, Laura scrambled out of her chair and joined Jenna to make the introductions.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Tony took Jenna's hand and kissed it with a dramatic flourish.

"Charmed to meet so lovely a lady," he said with such obvious sincerity, Jenna was taken in immediately. "Laura has told me about you but she neglected to mention your beauty."

The Don Juan type. Jenna wondered how long he had been playing the part of the charmer as a model and would-be actor. All his life?

"Laura seems to think I can help you remember more of the details about the accident." Jenna decided the best approach was to jump right in.

Tony looked surprised. "Yes, she told me you might try your hypnotherapy on me."

"You make it sound like a lot of hocus-pocus," she commented with a raise of an eyebrow. A non-believer.

"Oh, please, take no offense. I just hope we can get to know each other a little before we start with this psychology stuff."

What an odd comment. But before Jenna could speak he hurried on. "Why not let me do your hair?" he offered, moving slightly forward to appraise her hair. He smoothed the plain brown strands gently, not only with the practiced touch of a hairstylist but with what also felt like a gentle lover's caress.

Jenna's breath caught and she stepped back a bit, then was embarrassed at having done so.

Laura stepped in and put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

"Tony, Jenna's not used to your ways yet. Don't frighten her away."

Her eyes held a brief, teasing sparkle Jenna had not seen in her for a long time. Was Laura involved with Tony too? How would Matt feel about that?

Tony grinned. "Sorry. Sometimes I do get carried away. There is so much beauty in a woman and in her tresses. The first thing I always want to do when I meet a beautiful woman is to style her hair. And, Jenna," he fingered her hair again, causing a shiver to run down her spine, "yours has such potential."

She touched the shoulder-length hair she wore clipped back with a wide, tortoise shell barrette. Perhaps she should let him work on her. What harm could it do? Maybe he could give her a better style. Laura's hair was certainly lovelier than she'd ever seen it before, and if he was responsible for that, it would be worth a try. Also, it would be a good time to chat and get to know one another. If he was uneasy about submitting to hypnotherapy, she might be able to ease his concerns.

"Okay, Tony." She smiled. "If you think you can work magic with these plain tresses of mine, go ahead. How soon can you give me an appointment?"

Both he and Laura seemed surprised and delighted that she wanted the appointment as soon as possible. Only she knew the reason was so she wouldn't have a chance to change her mind and chicken out. She was never one to spend too much time on fixing her hair.

Tony checked his appointment book and wrote out a card with an appointment for that afternoon at two. Two hours from now. Jenna was just thinking that would give her plenty of time to check out the other shops in the area and maybe take that stroll down Banyan Drive that Matt had suggested, when a woman hastened into the shop, sweeping past Jenna and Laura as if they weren't there.

The woman put a hand up to caress Tony's cheek dramatically--possessively. "Anthony, darling, you left the house without your pills this morning. How are you feeling? Has the pain been very bad? I brought the pills along as soon as I realized you'd forgotten them."

She stopped her rush of words long enough to reach into a large straw handbag embroidered with colorful flowers, and took out a prescription bottle of pills. "Now take one immediately," she ordered. "I can tell by the way you're leaning on your cane that the pain is bad. My poor Anthony!"

He glanced at Jenna and Laura with no embarrassment, to Jenna's surprise. At this, the woman suddenly noticed that Tony was not alone and turned to them.

"Hello, Laura." She sounded as though she begrudged her the simple greeting.

Jenna eyed the woman. She was short--not much more than five feet--sixty-ish and on the chunky side. Her silver and gray hair was cut short around the sides and back, left longer in front and blown dry to add fluffiness above her forehead. There was a resemblance to Tony in the wide, straight mouth and narrow eyes, so Jenna was not surprised when he introduced her as his mother, Beatrice Pereira.

"Call me Bea, dear. Everyone does." She smiled broadly and held out a meaty hand. Bea had a very firm grip.

Jenna mumbled some appropriate pleasantries and tried not to stare at Bea's bright blue eyelids. Her pet peeve in makeup--too much shadow. At least it wasn't purple.

"I know I shouldn't but I do so worry about my Anthony. A mother does, you know." She sent a dramatically loving smile his way.

"He left without his pain medication," she explained again. "My poor dear. So difficult for him since the accident, you know."

"Ma...." Tony's face was calm. A less confident man would have shown signs of embarrassment by now.

"I know, I know." She held up a hand. "I fuss too much. Anthony's always telling me I do. But a mother is concerned, you know?"

Jenna wondered if the stereotypical Jewish mother characteristics were also true of the Portuguese mother.

Bea turned to her again. "What brings you to Hawaii? Visiting your best friend?"

Jenna got the impression Bea knew all about the rift that existed between her and Laura for five years. She smiled politely anyway. "Actually, this is a working trip. I'm doing a TV program on the fire goddess, Pele."

Bea beamed at the news. "Then you must visit our local Pele expert, Iolani Hanoa. I'm sure Laura's told you all about her illustrious grandmother."

"Thank you, she already has and I believe I'll be meeting her this evening."

The woman's smile suddenly became devious. "How wonderful! You must have her tell you some of the more interesting legends. Especially the one about Pele and her sister, Hiiaka."

She glanced meaningfully from Tony back to Jenna, and Jenna wondered if Tony was in on the secret significance of the legend.

Jenna had the uneasy feeling she would not like hearing that particular tale.

Bea let out a heavy sigh, then clutched her straw purse to her ample stomach. "Well, I need to get back to the drugstore. It was nice to meet you, Jenna. Goodbye, dear." She patted Tony's cheek and breezed out the door.

Jenna noticed Bea had almost totally ignored Laura after her initial lukewarm greeting.

"My mother is a pharmacy assistant," Tony explained. "She works at a drugstore out at the mall about five miles from here." The first person Jenna had met who wasn't situated on Banyan Drive.

A mother like that would drive me crazy, she thought, thankful for her own sweet, non-interfering mom, retired and living in a mobile-home park in Florida.

She turned her attention back to Tony who was still speaking. "Jenna, come back for your appointment a little bit early if you can. In case I finish with my previous customer early, it will give us a chance to talk."

Jenna smiled at him. "Fine. I'll try not to get too carried away in my wanderings. Perhaps we can set up our first hypnotherapy session after I've explained the process to you a little."

Tony grinned, moving his right index finger back and forth in front of his face. "You are getting slee-ee-py," he teased, making Jenna laugh.

"By the way, Laura," he called after her as they neared the door. "Have you been using that special conditioner I mixed for you?"

She flashed him a smile, a special one she seemed to hold just for him, then went back to the counter and fluffed out her hair. "Feel for yourself. What do you think?"

"The conditioner seems to be doing your hair a lot of good."

Jenna was once more aware of how great Laura's hair looked. Maybe it was a good idea, trusting her hair to him. She realized she was looking forward to seeing what magic he would work on her.

"Well, now you've met Tony and his mother," Laura said outside the shop. "What do you think?"

"Tony seems nice enough, but that mother of his!"

"Say no more. We've all learned to deal with her and her smothering ways. Actually, I should feel kind of sorry for her. Her husband was lost at sea in a boating accident some years ago. His body was never found and they suspect he ran into some nasty sharks." She paused, perhaps considering what she'd just said, then added, "But I don't feel sorry for her one bit. Not when she's so mean to me." Laura's eyes flashed. "Sometimes I think she got rid of him herself."

"You think she murdered him?"

Laura just shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past her."

"Do you know the legend of Pele and her sister that she mentioned?" Jenna wanted to get off the subject of murder.

Laura seemed uncomfortable, and her quick denial struck Jenna as a lie. She added, "But I wouldn't pay attention to what she says anyway. She's such a witch, always trying to come up with some nasty comment."

"I noticed she didn't act like any friend of yours. What's the deal?"

"Oh, she thinks I've got my sights on her precious son, that's all. You saw how over-protective she is."

"Tony is obviously in love with you, Laura. It seems understandable that she'd worry."

Laura looked surprised. "Tony's not in love with me, Jen. No way."

Was her friend really that dumb where men were concerned? Or was she playing around with both Tony and Matt and trying to keep it quiet?

When they got back to Laura's gallery, Jenna recalled the earrings she'd liked and asked the shop clerk to get them out of the case for a closer look. Liking them even more close up, she made the purchase, tucked the tiny box into her bag, then turned to Matt who had once again emerged from the back room.

"I think I'll do a little wandering around the other shops here for now and leave the Japanese garden for later," she told him. "I'll have to get to Tony's for an appointment before long and I'd rather enjoy the park when I won't have to keep an eye on the time."

"Good idea. But why don't I come with you anyway? I can be your shop guide and interpreter."

"Don't you do anything but hang around Banyan Drive? When do you work?"

If he found her blunt accusation rude he gave no indication.

"I work the late-night shift. I thought I'd already told you that. Eleven to five."

"Ah, yes. And then you go surfing. I had forgotten."

"I still want you to join me one morning. How about tomorrow, before we start work? It'll put you in a great island mood."

"I'll think about it," she promised, remembering that he wanted to be there before sunrise.

Jenna said goodbye to Laura, then walked ahead of him out the shop door. She didn't want him to read the thoughts she seemed unable to push away. Sunrise on the beach with Matt Kraemer could put her in a mood all right. A very dangerous mood.

Chapter Six

Matt wasn't sure what made him suggest accompanying Jenna on her first island shopping trip. The way he'd been stretching himself so thin the last few weeks, he could have used the time for something else. Like sleeping. God knew time for sleep was in short supply on this job. But he wanted to spend time around Jenna too. Lots of time if he could get it. Admitting that scared him.

He was attracted to her in a way he'd almost forgotten he could be attracted to a woman. More than just physically, although Jenna had no problems there from what he could see. Petite, slender, a nice body he was dying to see more of. Smooth soft skin begging to be touched. Blue gray eyes that intriguingly changed color, chameleon-like, with her surroundings. Matt smiled to himself at the thought of having a pet like her around. But Jenna did have one problem.

She needed to loosen up and let go. She was too up-tight, just like he used to be when he still lived in Chicago. Hawaii had cured him of big-city stress syndrome. He could help set her free too if she'd let him. Setting her free would be a pleasure.

He wanted to remove the clip from her hair and shake the strands out free and loose about her shoulders. He wanted to dress her in a skimpy bikini. Or, better yet, in nothing but that tousled hair and a welcoming smile.

"Are you always so cheerful?" Jenna asked in the middle of his daydream.

"Are you always so serious?" he retaliated, arranging his mouth in an exaggerated frown. Good thing she didn't know what he'd been thinking.

Jenna laughed, a light-hearted sound that gave Matt a spark of hope. "Have I been that bad?" she asked.

"Let's just say I wouldn't take you to a dying man's bedside. And," he added, "I think that's the first time I've heard you laugh since yesterday. You should do it more often."

"Oh, dear. That does sound bad. I guess I've got a lot on my mind. Thinking of all the work I have to get done on my project in a week. Plus worrying about Laura. I don't know what to make of those headaches. Or her behavior," she added.

"I take it you two aren't exactly close." Should he let on that he knew about Dennis?

"We were once. Especially when we were kids. After it became just me and Mom, after my father left. It was great to have a close girlfriend who was more like a sister."

"Rough on a family when one parent leaves. I know."

Jenna's eyes grew wide and Matt watched an inner spark turn from yellow to green. "Your father left you too?"

He shook his head. "My mother. But she died, when I was twelve" After all this time it still hurt when he thought about it. "My kid sister and I grew especially close. She's twenty-three now."

"Same age as Laura," Jenna observed.

"That's right," Matt said, wondering why that seemed important to her. "Did your father leaving make it hard for you to trust men?" he asked suddenly, the instant the thought occurred to him. Her father and her fiance. Two important men let a girl down big time. He could see how that would have an effect. Jenna stopped walking and gaped at him, and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to respond. She shrugged and continued walking.

"I guess it might have something to do with it. I didn't know I was being so obvious. Are you always this blunt?" she asked.

This time it was his turn to shrug. "Natural curiosity. It's the reason I know so much."

He held the door of the souvenir shop open for her, watching her face carefully to see if she knew he was teasing. She knew, and immediately fired off a comment on his modesty. Good for her. She did have some spirit. Maybe teasing was the way to bring her out of her gloom. At least while she was with him.

For the first time he realized her apparent lack of interest in him had wounded his ego. Trouble was, he had the habit of being more interested in women who weren't interested in him. The ones who were so different from the radio station groupies and surf bunnies he was used to. Oh, they were fine for sometimes. But, geez, a girl like Jenna could really spark his interest.

A girl like Jenna could mean trouble with a capital T.

The first thing he pounced on in the shop was one of those quickie Hawaiian language guides.

"This is what I was telling you about. Memorize one of these and you'll be talking like a kamaaina in no time."

"Right. Like I have tons of time for doing that. I'll pick one up if it'll help some, but I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with me sounding like a haole."

Oh, he'd put up with her all right. No matter what she sounded like.

Matt walked over to a rack of colorful garments.

"Here's what you need," he announced, pulling out a yellow and orange floral creation that looked like a sarong. He'd like to see that wrapped around Jenna's curves.

She eyed the dress critically. "I don't think it's my kind of style," she said, wrinkling her nose, and giving him the sudden urge to kiss the tip of it. Then move lower.

He tried again. "How about this pareau?" he asked, holding up a garment covered in bright splashes of purple and blue. "There's meant to be something like a dozen different ways to wear it."

"Why, that's nothing more than a rectangle of fabric. Where are the sleeves? Where's the neck? For that matter, where are the seams?"

"You just wrap and tie." He grinned suggestively, liking the flush of color that appeared in her too-pale cheeks. He had to get her on the beach.

Jenna obviously didn't think much of his suggestions, but at least he'd gotten her to look through the rack at the other dresses. He was glad she stayed away from the voluminous muu muus. A slender figure like hers would be lost in one of those.

"Do you mind if I try on a couple of things?" She sounded almost shy and Matt was pleased she'd gotten into the spirit.

"Not as long as you give me a fashion show."

She agreed and the next hour passed quickly, with Jenna trying on a number of different styles, colors and patterns of aloha wear and gamely coming out of the dressing room where she gave a little spin for Matt's inspection.

But he rejected every one. Matt couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He wasn't normally so picky. But it never seemed as important as this. What Jenna wore needed to be exactly right.

He went back to the racks for another look. Finally, he picked something out and handed it to the salesgirl who'd been helping Jenna, whispering his instructions in her ear. A moment later Jenna's protest rang out from behind the curtains.

"I told you I didn't want a pareau. Matt, you put her up to this," she accused.

"Just try it," he suggested. "If you don't like it I promise I won't say another word about them."

Matt wasn't a whistler but if he was he would have whistled loud and long at the sight of Jenna wrapped in the blue and purple print he'd recommended. The colors were reflected in her shining eyes and turning them the bluest he'd ever seen.

The pareau was wrapped just right around her hips to provide a snug fit, pulled up across her full breasts and tied halter-like at the back of her neck. The fabric parted perfectly in front, for a glimpse of creamy thigh when she walked. She looked gorgeous and sexy and good enough to eat.

"Wow," was all he could say for the moment.

What had he done? He'd been attracted to her before but this was downright scary.

Okay, Matt, breathe normally.

"You look beautiful," he finally managed, meaning it.

"I never would have believed that one rectangle of fabric could actually be worn to look like a dress. It's like magic."

It's magic all right. Magic on his hormones.

"I'm going to buy it," she said, "to wear to the club tonight."

"The men are going to have a hard time taking their eyes off you to watch the show," he said, knowing he would especially.

Jenna made her purchase, along with the Hawaiian guide book, some post cards and a map of the volcanoes area.

"You were right, Matt," she admitted a few minutes later at the door of Tony's Hair Salon. "That was fun. Thank you." She touched his arm tentatively in farewell, then turned to go in.

My pleasure, he thought, willing his heartbeat back to normal. Definitely my pleasure.

* * *

Jenna was amazed the time spent wandering the nearby shops with Matt went so quickly and she felt mildly disappointed when he left her at the door of Tony's shop. Surprisingly, he didn't insist on accompanying her inside. She had noticed Matt was a man of very definite opinions. Like the way he'd criticized her style of dress yesterday at the airport. Or today, when he'd insisted she try on the pareau. She hoped his strong opinions wouldn't get in the way of their working together on her project.

Tony Pereira's face lit up when she walked back into his shop.

"Ah, my next creation has arrived right on time, escorted by no less than our enigma of Banyan Drive."

Jenna thought it was an odd thing to say. Enigma, huh? Did that mean he didn't know very much about Matt either?

"Just be aware of his dark side and stear clear when it shows up."

Was he always in the habit of making such cryptic comments? Matt's dark side. She'd have to see if he would tell her more.

Tony led her, with the help of his carved wood-handled cane, to the back of the salon where she settled herself comfortably into his black vinyl chair and allowed him to drape the wine-colored plastic cape around her and secure it by its Velcro strip at the back of her neck.

He released her hair from its barrette and combed out what she saw as limp tresses reflected back. He ran his fingers through them, studying her image in the large mirror in front of her. What if it was Matt releasing her hair from its clip and running his fingers through it? It would feel heavenly if it was Matt's touch.

"Your face has the gentle flush of a woman in love."

Tony's comment brought her back to reality, and caused her "gentle flush" to turn into embarrassing beet red.

Once again, she had a mildly uneasy feeling under his caress, under his eyes' careful scrutiny. She felt as though they didn't know each other well enough for him to touch her that way. Yet, it was silly, she knew. Many different hairdressers had combed her hair over the years. Why should he be any different?

"Gaze long and well into the looking glass, my lovely. For in a couple of hours, when the transformation is complete, you will not know yourself as you appear now."

With his curious preamble, Jenna considered she had perhaps made the wrong choice in putting herself in his hands. Exactly how much emotional damage had he suffered from his accident?

Yet as he set to work, dividing her hair into sections and wrapping each into a neat foil and cotton packet, it was obvious he was good at what he did. Jenna had expected his injury to be more of a handicap than it apparently was, but he perched himself in the high, wheeled chair that was taller than hers, maneuvering it as needed, and was quite adept.

"The first thing I'll do," he said after he'd done one entire side of her head in silence, save for humming along to the Mamas and Papas singing in the background, "is to put some golden highlights into your hair."

"That should spark up my mouse brown." Maybe it would spark Matt's interest too. He had seemed so preoccupied. With her project, with his work, with Laura. Except when he was helping her pick out her new dress.

Tony abruptly stopped wrapping. "Never speak of yourself that way. You are truly a beautiful woman, and you'll see when I'm finished, how I'll turn your hair into a royal crown."

"Do women ever come in here and say, 'Make me look like Meg Ryan' ?" Did any island women say, make me irresistible to Matt Kraemer? Could Tony work that kind of magic?

He laughed. "As a matter of fact, they do. Meg Ryan or Hillary Clinton. Depends on which public figure they're enamored of at the time. It used to be Princess Di," he added, suddenly sad.

"So what do you do? Especially when you know it's impossible to get even close?"

"I point out that their own hair and facial shape are so unique as to make it possible for them to be even lovelier than their idol. It works most of the time." His voice took on a note of concern. "But I don't lie to them. I believe every woman I work on is the loveliest of the moment. I never go so far as to think of another head of hair when there's one right in front of me."

When he'd finished wrapping all of Jenna's hair, he guided her to sit under a large hooded dryer.

"Now the heat will work its magic with the highlighter."

Tony seemed a great believer in magic. Perhaps he was open-minded enough to give hypnosis a chance too.

Jenna had expected him to leave her under the dryer with a magazine to help her pass the time but he surprised her by seating himself on a stool at her feet. She stared for a moment at the intricately carved wooden handle of his cane, noticing for the first time that it was a tiki of some kind. She had seen several different styles in the shops earlier, and knew tikis represented images of Polynesian supernatural power but couldn't tell the difference between one or another.

But before she could ask Tony about the tiki's significance, she realized with some alarm that he had pulled off her sandals and was applying lotion to her feet.

"What are you doing?" Her voice came out a couple of octaves too high. What if Matt walked in and saw them?

"I'm helping you to feel relaxed," he replied easily. "You mainland haoles--too uptight."

What should she do? If she wanted him to relax and trust her enough for hypnotherapy sessions, she had to show she trusted him too.

Jenna knew her thoughts were right. But no man had ever given her a foot massage before. Not even a lover, not that there had been many of those in her life. Suddenly, she caught herself wondering what Matt's large tanned hands would feel like on her feet. On her body. What if his lips...?

"Do I make you nervous?"

"What?" Jenna realized she had started slightly when the unexpected thoughts of Matthew Kraemer broke through.

"Do I make you nervous?" Tony asked again. "You jumped just then."

"No, I'm not nervous," she answered truthfully. "My thoughts had just wandered off."

She looked down at her right foot in his hands, feeling strangely far away. Like Alice in a Hawaiian wonderland.

"This lotion has just the right amount of coconut oil in it. Sesame oil too. My special blend. Excellent for our much-forgotten feet that carry so much of our burden."

Jenna glanced at his own feet before she could stop herself, remembering Laura saying he'd lost two toes in the accident. He wore brown loafers without socks. She pulled her gaze away.

"Your own blend? How interesting."

He smiled, seeming almost shy for the first time. No, it was just modesty showing, she decided.

"Laura calls me a 'brilliant Hawaiian chemist.' I mix up many of my own shampoos and conditioners, some of the hair colors, and this lotion."

He had looked like a chemist when he'd put on a smock before mixing her highlighting solution. Jenna wondered if it had anything to do with his mother's influence as a pharmacist. She could imagine Beatrice Pereira being sure her son followed her footsteps in some way.

"I made up a special conditioner for Laura. Maybe I should mix a batch for you too."

Tony stood, capped his bottle of lotion, checked her hair and pronounced her "done."

They moved over to the shampooing area and Jenna had just resumed her seat in front of the mirror when Laura popped in. She gave Tony a loud kiss on his cheek before turning to Jenna.

"How's it going?" She eyed her friend's hair critically but Jenna doubted it looked any different with it still so wet.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had all that new merchandise to deal with."

"Yeah, I did. But Matt already took care of most of it."

"The transformation will be complete within the hour, and I'll send this lovely creature back to you at your gallery," With a flourish Tony brandished his scissors and comb, prepared to start cutting. But the phone rang just then and he muttered at the interruption before going to answer it.

"I came by to tell you it's all set for tonight."

"What's all set?" Jenna asked.

Laura scowled. "Did you forget? We're all going to the Banyan Grove so you can hear some real Hawaiian music and see the dances. Pearl's got a terrific dance tribute to Pele that's positively spooky! I promised her we'd all be there to watch its debut."

Was Laura planning on doing another disappearing act? Jenna wondered. Laura had always been moody but the way she behaved now was getting on Jenna's nerves.

"If Pearl's doing a dance to Pele, I'd better get Matt over there with his video cam." The thought of being close to him again made her toes tingle.

"Already thought of and arranged." Laura's voice was shrill but smug.

"Listen, don't go taking over my project too!"

Oh, God. Why'd she snap at her like that? Because of five years ago? Because of five hours ago?

"Laura, I'm sorry."

But Laura had already stormed out.

Jenna glared at the door. Who else was going to drop in before her hair was finished. Why not another visit from Bea? Why not Matt?

She was definitely not used to this small town closeness. But she needed to get Tony talking if she was going to try helping him.

"Tony, will you tell me about the accident?" she asked when he got off the phone.

For the first time since they'd met, he looked uneasy. Was he still reluctant to talk about it? Maybe even a little afraid of bringing back bad memories?

"Listen, Jenna." He came up behind her, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. "I don't like to talk about anything heavy when I'm creating. You get the picture?"

She nodded, and a trickle of cold water slithered down the side of her neck.

"Anyway, you're my last appointment for the day. So why don't I finish your hair, which should only be another half hour, and then we'll go have a drink and we can talk. Okay?"

More drinking. Was that all these islanders did with their afternoons and evenings? Like Matt. But she agreed to put off their talk until her hair was done, hoping she'd then have Tony's total attention and could introduce hypnotherapy.

True to his word, in half an hour Tony whisked away the plastic cape, and pronounced Jenna's new hair-styling a success. Jenna couldn't believe her own reflection. He'd done a marvelous job on her hair. He'd trimmed off her straggly ends and layered other sections in a way that added general fullness throughout.

"I adore the effect of the highlighting, Tony!"

She turned her head to one side, admiring the way the light caused her new golden strands to sparkle.

"Okay, tell me what I owe you and then let's go get that drink." These drinking islanders. Might as well join them. Briefly, she wondered if Matt would be there.

Tony was shaking his head. "No charge for this one. It was my pleasure, Jenna."

"I can't let you do that. This is how you make your living. You'd go broke if you went around offering free hair stylings!"

But he was emphatic. "I insist and I don't want any more argument. When you come back for a touch-up, then I'll charge you. For now you can buy me a drink."

"Okay, okay." Jenna pretended to give in but while he was preoccupied with sweeping and clearing up the shop, she tucked a folded bill into the pocket of his smock, hoping he didn't realize it was hers when he found it.

A few minutes later, they were settled comfortably in the Banyan Drive Lounge, large tropical drinks shimmering in front of them. But this time Jenna had ordered non-alcoholic--fruit juice only, please. She wanted her mind clear to concentrate on how she would help Tony.

For the second time that day, she found herself telling how she'd become interested in hypnotherapy.

"What will it feel like to go under?" Tony asked. "Have you ever been hypnotized?"

"Of course. It was part of our training to undergo hypnosis ourselves." She sipped her drink. "It feels like being relaxed, slowly and totally relaxed."

"Like falling asleep?"

"No, in falling asleep you lose your awareness. In a hypnotic trance you can still think and you can respond to other people as well. I'll be giving you hypnotic suggestions to take your mind back to the accident."

"I don't really want to go back to the accident. I mean what if it's really gruesome? But I want to remember what really happened so I guess I have to do it."

Jenna put a hand over his. She felt bad, seeing a man who was usually so confident look as uneasy as he did. "If it gets too awful I'll bring you out of it right away," she promised. "Don't worry. I'll try to make it as painless as possible."

"What do you do?"

"Okay, first I make sure you're physically comfortable and then I talk you through to relaxation. I have you focus on an object like a candle flame and then I make my voice rhythmic and urge you to relax more and more. I use other things to help. Music or sound effects tapes, scented candles. I believe in involving the senses."

"Sensuality, scents and sounds. Seems like a very Sixties kind of thing," he said, draining his drink and signaling for another. He looked more relaxed and Jenna hoped it was because he was starting to trust her. From the brief amount of time she'd already spent with him, she recognized his innate sensuality and she planned to use that as much as possible.

"Everything will be all right, Tony. Honest."

If only she could make herself believe that.

Jenna thought of everything that had been thrown at her since yesterday. A friend with a problem. Threatening notes. Accidental death that might be murder. Jewel-smuggling. Superstitions. The Night Marchers. A gorgeous hunk.

And an overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Chapter Seven

Jenna watched the primitive fire dance feeling a combination of respect and fear. She sat at the edge of the chair, her fingers gripping the table in front of her, eyes focussed on the eerily lit stage.

Pearl Stevens and two other women danced, their movements draped in flowing satin, crimson fabrics and feathers, with twisted vines of the fragrant green maile leaves around their necks and heads. Iolani Hanoa, who'd ordered Jenna to call her "Tutu," sat beside her, like a crowing rooster puffed up with pride. Her gaze was held riveted on the stage, and she watched only her daughter.

"I see you cannot resist Pele's lure." She eyed Jenna, who had been swaying to the rhythm.

"It's fascinating." More than just fascinating. It was sensual. Erotic. It contained raw power, both desired and feared.

Laura sat beside Jenna, her shoulders slumped, repeatedly twirling the pink paper umbrella from her drink. This evening she was acting forlorn, and had been since they'd all arrived at the club.

"Tonight's dances are a drag," she complained. "I should've stayed home."

Jenna wished Laura had stayed at home too. She wanted to relax this evening, to lose her thoughts in the exotic program. She'd wanted to forget the strange threats that hovered over the last few days. Forget the anonymous notes, forget her friend's health problems, forget that she was really here to work. Just for tonight, she'd hoped to forget she wasn't just an ordinary mainland tourist here for a vacation in paradise.

But something was wrong with Laura. Again. What was it this time? Upset because Matt had to run camera and couldn't pay attention to her? Maybe having another one of her mysterious headaches? Something had to be done about those headaches. They kept coming back. Jenna pushed aside thoughts of a brain tumor. It was time Laura got herself to a specialist who would know if it was something serious.

Laura's sullen mood and her kettle-about-to-boil behavior troubled Jenna. She wanted to watch the program and soak up the Hawaiian atmosphere. She was hypnotized by the sexual nuances of the dances, seduced by the music and the thunderous drums, her heart matching their impassioned beating stroke for stroke.

The dancers moved their hips in a hypnotic sway, their arms and fingers weaving the tale of the almighty Pele. Jenna could almost feel the waves of heat emanating from the volcano goddess, flowing outward into the candle-lit room. The scent of exotic flowers and pungent maile leaves was a heady addition. The depth of emotion swirling around inside her head and her throat frightened her.

At the right of the stage Matt Kraemer stood with his video camera, recording the stunning tribute to Madame Pele for her TV program. She watched his movements, pleased that his thoughts seemed to match her own. He seemed to know just when she wanted a close-up, just when to back away for a wide-angle shot of the three dancers, and just when she would have wanted to focus on Pearl alone.

Jenna felt the rush of hot blood coursing through her veins at the sight of Matt's tanned muscular arms tensed around the video camera. At times he stroked it as if it were alive. What would those hands feel like, stroking her body?

No, she couldn't be having those kinds of thoughts about him. They weren't realistic. Weren't logical. Weren't at all like her.

It was just the atmosphere. The erotic dances. Perhaps the alcohol in the tropical drink she had half-consumed.

She forced her attention back to the stage, now, like Tutu, watching Pearl's dancing in particular. Dennis' mother was a graceful dancer, her fluid movements indicating an exuberant youthfulness of manner and appearance. Her hair, waist- length and shining black streaked with white strands, glistened in the seductive stage lights.

The dance ended abruptly with the two background dancers sliding to the floor, collapsing sylphlike at the feet of Madame Pele. The goddess stood tall and proud, her arms raised high in the triumph of her power over all Hawaii.

Tutu stood and raised her arms high in proud salute. Jenna's enthusiastic clapping was interrupted by a jab to her shoulder.

"I'm outta here," Laura yelled in Jenna's ear over the thundering applause, grabbing her purse and rushing toward the exit. Jenna started to stand but Tutu's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Let her go," the old woman advised. "She has much trouble, that one. Plenty pilikia."

The skin of the gnarled hand felt paper-thin and cold against Jenna's smooth, heated flesh.

"Pilikia?"

"Trouble," she said again, jerking her head in what looked like a a nod of affirmation. "All brought on herself by her thievery and disrespect. She does what is kapu. Forbidden."

Thievery. Disrespect. What was Iolani Hanoa talking about? "What is Laura mixed up in?"

But Tutu shook her head again and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "No more," she said, in a tone that was also a dismissal.

"Laura tells me you wish to know about Pele."

Jenna felt puzzled by the abrupt change of subject. She made a mental note to question Laura about the old woman's accusations. Was her friend involved in something illegal? Suddenly she remembered the article she'd read in the local paper the night before. Jewel smuggling.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, sending an unsettling wave of tremors to her stomach. There was nothing she could do about Laura at this very moment.

She gave Tutu her full attention, noticing again the whiteness of her shoulder length hair, contrasted against the darkness of her wrinkled skin. Iolani Hanoa-- Tutu--appeared as a woman who had seen much in life. Perhaps struggled through some of it, but always emerged the victor. Definitely a person in possession of great inner strength and power.

"Yes, I'm especially interested in some of the legends. Oh, and the alleged Pele sightings."

"Hmph. Alleged."

"So called," Jenna supplied.

"Yes, I know the meaning of the word. We Hawaiians are not all uneducated heathens as many seem to think."

Jenna felt the flush of color rising in her cheeks. She'd just managed to insult the one person who could probably give her the most information on Pele. Good move.

"I...I'm sorry. I misunderstood. Please tell me about one of them. The legends, I mean."

Get a grip, Jenna.

"Tell me the one about Hi--Hiaka. I'm probably mispronouncing her name."

Tutu smiled, looking pleased, and a glint of candlelight was caught and reflected off a gold front tooth. Jenna shivered, a strange sense of foreboding crawling up her back.

"Hi-i-aka." Tutu pronounced the name slowly, by syllable. "Hiiaka was the much-loved younger sister of Pele. One day Pele asked Hiiaka to do a great favor, instructing her to go to the farthest island, Kauai, and bring back a man by the name of Lohiau. Pele was in love with Lohiau, who was a great chief, and she wished to marry him. But Hiiaka was, like Pele, a great beauty. So Pele warned Hiiaka never to embrace her intended, promising to keep Hiiaka's treasured land area safe from her fiery destruction.

"But Hiiaka and Lohiau were delayed in their journey back to the Big Island, and Pele thought her sister had deceived her and run off with him."

Jenna felt a sour taste in her mouth, realizing why Bea Pereira had insisted she hear this tale. Laura was right. Tony's mother was a nasty, unpleasant woman.

Tutu's story continued. "...when Hiiaka returned and saw the blackened terrain that had once been her precious land, she knew Pele had not kept her word. Hiiaka embraced Lohiau passionately in front of her sister, bitterly pleased when Pele once more erupted in anger. Pele rained fire and ashes down on the pair of lovers, but Hiiaka had great powers too and was able to fight off each tirade. Taking Lohiau with her, Hiiaka went back to Kauai where they could marry and be safe from Pele's wrath."

Tutu finished her story, took a long pull on her drink, and sat back in her chair to look at Jenna.

To gloat. She took great delight in telling me that story, Jenna fumed. Tutu was trying to tell her something.

Someone clamped a hand on Jenna's shoulder. She turned and stared into Matt's face so close to hers she could feel his breath lightly caressing her cheek.

"Hey, boss. I've got some great dance footage for you."

Jenna winced at his use of the name she had asked him not to call her. It made her so--so unapproachable. If only he didn't look so breath-takingly handsome in another blue aloha shirt, this time with crisp white slacks instead of shorts. Why couldn't they have given her an ugly camera man to help with her project? But, no. They had provided Mr. Drop-Dead Gorgeous.

She managed a weak smile. "Hi, Matt. The dances are really something. I'm sure I'll use footage on that last one in particular."

"I shot a lot of close-ups on Pearl's dance."

He flopped into the chair Laura had vacated earlier and signaled for the cocktail waitress.

"Hi, Tutu."

So, he knew Iolani Hanoa well enough to call her that. Matt definitely got around.

Jenna toyed with the straw in her drink, recalling the giddy teenage feeling she'd had while getting ready for tonight. She'd allowed the pleasure of a long luxurious soak in a warm tub filled with plumeria scented bubbles. Of course she had wanted to look and feel her best. It wasn't just for Matt's benefit.

Was it?

Her new hairstyle, compliments of Tony's Hair Salon, helped give her an unusually airy self-confidence. And she was pleased about the new blue and purple dress--the pareau--Matt had picked for her. She felt pretty. Sexy too.

Stealing a glance at Matt, she was surprised to see he was watching her. Why? Did he feel the attraction too?

No, she was being silly and naive. They had only met yesterday. There was no chemistry between them. Besides, he was Laura's.

"So what do you think of Hawaii so far, Jenna?"

Her heart rushed up to block her throat. Suddenly she and Matt were alone at the table. When had Tutu left?

"Oh, it's wonderful." Boy, that sounded stupid. Like an adolescent. Get it under control, Jen. He's just some guy you're working with.

"I love the sensuality of it all. The visual textures. The sounds of nature, sounds I'd never heard first hand. The exotic aromas. Scents I never knew existed."

She felt the heat rushing through her again under his look of intense scrutiny. He looked like he was trying to analyze her or her answer.

"I know it sounds corny," she defended. "But that's what I feel."

"You sound surprised."

Matt picked a slice of pineapple off the edge of his drink glass and popped it into his mouth. Jenna watched as his tongue snaked out to glide along his lips, licking up every drop of the tangy juice. She felt a sudden sharp intake of breath. Oh, God. Had she made any noise? Had he heard?

"Well, yes, I am surprised." She struggled to regain her composure. "I mean it was just planned as a working vacation. I never expected this place to be so-- captivating."

"Sometimes a working vacation can turn into a good time. It's happened to me before. But then I almost always manage to have a good time."

I'll bet you do, Jenna thought.

Silly girl, she chided herself. Get your mind out of the bedroom and back on your project.

"Will there be anymore dancing?" she asked.

He looked at the quartet of musicians who had taken the stage after Pearl's fire dance. They were playing a combination of Hawaiian and pop music, and several couples were dancing in front of the stage.

"It's hard to say. These guys just do whatever strikes them for the moment. Probably not, though. But we can dance. Would you like to?"

"Me?" Of course. There was no one else there. Where was Laura anyway? Maybe she ought to go outside and look for her. Make sure she was all right.

"Jenna?"

Her skin tingled at the touch of his hand on her arm. She nodded, and rose from her chair.

Jenna felt as if in a trance, walking up to the dance floor with Matt, her cold hand held firmly in his warm one. Then she was in his arms, and she marveled at how neatly their bodies fitted together.

He held her close--too close. His warm breath burned the sensitive skin on the side of her neck.

It felt comfortable and awkward, soothing and scary, safe and frightening, all at the same time.

"Your new dress suits you," Matt commented suddenly, his words whispered dangerously close to Jenna's ear.

"Thank you. I have to admit, it isn't something I would have had the nerve to choose on my own."

"I don't see why not. You're a beautiful woman. You should show that off."

Jenna felt the color rising in her cheeks, was glad she rested her face against his chest so he couldn't see. He'd called her beautiful. Did he really mean it? No, it was probably just a line he used on all the women.

"I'm enjoying working on your Pele project," he said, and Jenna was relieved he'd gotten onto a safer subject. He went on about the video, offering some of his own ideas and suggestions. But Jenna couldn't force her mind to pay attention. She was too aware of his powerful arms around her body, holding her tightly against the heat of his own. Their hips, pressed together, swayed in an erotic rhythm. It was so easy to imagine herself making love with this man.

Too soon the dance was at an end and they went back to their table. Jenna didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed to see Laura, Tutu and Pearl all sitting there. So the others had returned. Jenna's heart fell back to her stomach. They all looked so grim. Had something else happened?

"Are you all right?" she asked Laura, reclaiming the seat next to her. Matt sat on Laura's other side, causing Jenna's insides to flip-flop between relief and disappointment.

"Yeah, fine," Laura answered after a long swallow from her fresh drink. But her scowl etched deep lines across her tanned forehead. Had she seen Jenna in Matt's arms?

Wouldn't it be a great payback to steal Matt away from her? Jenna thought suddenly.

Stop it, Jenna. That's Laura's style, not yours. Anyway, you don't want him. The man's a disc jockey and a beach bum for God's sake. He's just like Dennis. But her body wanted him. It had just proven to her that it did.

Her attention was suddenly captured by the man on stage at the microphone, introducing their next number.

"Dis is a song we always like to play 'specially for you visitors to our Islands. People say dey no understand our word 'aloha.' How can mean two tings, eh? Hello and goodbye." The man's gaze was scanning the crowded room as if looking for someone in particular. He stopped when he reached their table, his already broad "Mr. Entertainment" grin widening even more.

"Maybe if we all put our hands togeder real hahd, we convince one lovely young lady from our audience to come dance fo' us. Laura?"

The flighty Laura a dancer? This was news to Jenna. Stunned, she turned to see Laura standing up, winding her way through the tables and up to the stage where she stood poised and ready for her dance.

The melodic strains of both ukulele and guitar combined to issue a haunting number about the meaning of the word aloha. Jenna watched Laura in fascination, her friend's hips swaying seductively, her arms outstretched, waving, as if beckoning to her lover. The flame-red sarong clung to every curve of her body and its front slit revealed an enticing view of her thigh.

"...just like a love song with its haunting sweet refrain..." The men sang in the background and Laura continued to move gracefully, her face set as if in a trance, her eyes filled with the awareness of her powerful sexuality.

Had Pearl taught Laura to dance like that? It wouldn't surprise Jenna to learn she had wanted to master the dance just for this kind of seductive exhibition. It was so like Laura. Her friend hadn't changed much after all.

Stealing a glance in Matt's direction she was annoyed at the way his rich brown eyes followed Laura's every move.

He's probably well acquainted with the way her body moves, Jenna thought. Intimately. She was angry at the sour taste that had returned to her mouth.

She signaled the cocktail waitress for another drink. She could handle another one, even though they were awfully big and potent.

Laura's dance ended to a wave of raucous applause and appreciative whistles and she returned to the table looking flushed and triumphant.

"How did you like my hula, Jen? Surprised you, I'll bet."

"Yeah, you did, Laura. I had no idea. Your teachings, no doubt?" Jenna looked questioningly at Pearl who was nodding her head, a peculiar look on her face. Disapproval mixed with what?

Tutu slapped her hand on the table in front of Laura. "You are not a true Islander. You only make fun of our customs. Only cause pilikia. You'll see."

Jenna swallowed hard. That word again. Trouble. She must try talking to Laura again tonight. About the gem smuggling. Or whatever her friend was involved in.

Laura, seeming unaffected by Tutu's harsh scolding, continued beaming. She pulled something out of her pocket and thrust it into Jenna's hand.

"Keep this safe for me," she whispered, shaking her head ever so slightly to silence Jenna's immediate question.

Why? Jenna wondered silently, peeking at the object Laura had entrusted her with. The opal pendant.

The group of musicians on stage ended another number, then the man at the mike was explaining about their next song.

"...about dose tiny crustaceans we Hawaiians call opihi. Dah song is called 'Opihi Moi Moi,' which means, 'opihis are sleeping'. For dis number we feature our main guitarist playing in da old Hawaiian slack key style. Enjoy."

The first few bars sounded and Laura suddenly gasped and pushed back her chair with a vicious scrape. All eyes were on her while she stood and rushed once more out of the club.

Pearl and Tutu exchanged uncomfortable looking glances, but Pearl leaned over to whisper to Jenna. "She still can't handle this song. It reminds her of my son's--accident."

Matt put a hand on Jenna's arm. "Don't worry. She's all right. I'll go look after her."

Jenna watched him go, trying to shove aside her insane feeling of betrayal. Why should she feel bad just because Laura would soon know the comfort of Matt's arms?

Chapter Eight

The earth trembled and Jenna felt the rumble deep in the pit of her stomach. Another earthquake. The third one today. She stumbled for the third time, stubbing her toe on a sharp elbow of lava rock. The air was stifling, despite temperatures in the low eighties. Matt managed to look so cool and comfortable, but Jenna didn't think she'd ever get used to the Big Island's tropical humidity that had every scrap of clothing she wore--shorts and a cotton shirt, down to her silk underwear-- sticking to her body. Her shoes, comfortable enough for walking the nature trails back in Oregon, pinched and rubbed at her feet. All this walking and climbing-- scrambling, really--over fields of lava tired her and made her feel suddenly out-of- shape.

"Don't let it worry you," Matt called cheerfully from about thirty feet away. "Just a tiny one." It was the same thing he'd said each time. But despite his carefree reassurance, she couldn't help worrying about how close they were to an eruption, and how fierce that eruption would be.

Matt and Laura seemed unaffected by the quake. Why had Laura insisted on coming anyway? She'd sounded desperate, saying she needed to search for more raw materials for her jewelry. Couldn't she do that on her own time? Jenna suspected she just wanted to keep an eye on her and Matt.

Don't worry, Laura. I won't steal your beau. Even though I should.

Hawaii wasn't bringing out the best in Jenna. It's bleak lava beds and trembling earth made her more than a little uneasy.

Although she had been struck by its beauty and serenity when she first saw Hilo and the lovely ocean view she had from her Banyan Drive balcony, here in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park--the southeastern portion of the Big Island--she felt a keen sense of desolation and a hint of fear.

Everywhere she looked there was nothing but lava and sky, lava and sky. Black and a graying shade of blue.

The fields of solidified black lava rock stretched out for miles. She wouldn't need very much of her video shot here, thank God. There was too much of the same thing. Unfortunately, she needed shots closer to the actual craters. Night shots of those. Jenna shivered at the thought of being in the midst of these barren lava fields at night. But with Matt there things could definitely get a lot more interesting. Provided Laura didn't tag along.

Matt had been gamely playing tour guide all the way out here. Explaining the differences between the two types of lava rock, pahoehoe and a'a.

"Pahoehoe is more fluid, its surface smooth, rich and glassy."

To Jenna that was the prettier form of lava.

"A'a begins as melted rock that's much less fluid, so it moves forward slowly and dries into a rough and rocky surface."

The a'a was a pain to walk over, Jenna quickly learned. Sharp bits poked up everywhere, existing, she was sure, for the sole purpose of tormenting tender human feet. Just what Pele wanted, Jenna thought, with a twinge of foreboding.

"There are several different hiking trails here in the park," Matt had cheerfully informed them, as if they'd be eager to explore every one of them. Jenna would have had the energy and the stamina if she'd been able to keep up her habit of daily running. But here in Hawaii, in this humidity? No thanks. She wasn't inclined to spend any more time out here than she had to.

The road from Hilo had branched off into the Crater Rim Drive. They had already made several stops, one to the Kilauea Visitor Center and one to Volcano House. Matt promised to take Jenna back to the latter, a hotel and restaurant, for dinner.

He had offered to take her, not Laura. Why did the idea sound so dangerously exciting to her?

Matt ambled up beside her, video camera in tow.

"Got quite a bit of lava field footage, Jen."

Her heart skipped a beat. He called her by her more familiar name. It sounded good, certainly a lot more intimate than "boss."

"Great." She hoped the word didn't sound as strangled to him as it did to her own ears.

"I'm ready to move on if you are," she added, trying to sound all-business.

"Where's Laura? Oh, never mind," he amended. "I see her."

Jenna looked around, then spotted her friend some distance away, figure bent as if examining something.

"Maybe she's found some of whatever she uses to make her jewelry out of."

Matt looked unhappy. "Maybe. I wish she wouldn't take any of that stuff out of here in my car."

"Superstitious about the wrath of Pele?" Jenna teased. He did not look amused. Was there more to it than just the beliefs of the locals?

Matt didn't answer. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Laura!"

Laura looked in their direction, then crouched again. She picked something up off the ground, straightened up and walked towards them.

"What'd you find?" Matt asked when she was close enough. A wry smile lit the face that, to Jenna, had shown mainly pain and confusion these past few days. Or was it fear?

"I can't believe it!" Laura seemed uncharacteristically excited. "Pele's hair. A whole clump." She showed them what she'd collected in the flat cardboard box she'd brought along.

Jenna looked at the tangle of glassy gold strands, reminding her of a handful of straw and fine golden sewing needles. "What is it? I mean how is it formed?"

"From lava in its liquid state, the way all of it starts out. But these bits were cooled in the air, drawn out into these slender strands and blown away on the wind."

"What do you do with it? In your jewelry, I mean."

"Well, it's too delicate to be used on its own, so I usually encase it in some clear, strong material, like resin or glass. I like to arrange a few threads into an interesting design."

"Sounds like very painstaking work" Jenna remarked, amazed that Laura, always so impatient would take the time to do such detailed projects.

"It is. But I'm just so glad I found it. This stuff is so rare I usually have to--" Suddenly Laura frowned. "Can we go on now? I should have been at the cave by now."

"What cave are you talking about?" Jenna thought Laura sounded like she was late for a meeting or something. But who would she be meeting way out here?

"We were waiting for you, after all," Jenna said, annoyed.

"Oh, sure, blame me." Laura regained her surly mood.

Matt, in his usual good humor--Jenna suspected it was forced--smiled, loaded the video cam in the back of the truck and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Where to next?" Jenna asked when they'd all buckled up.

"We'll be turning into the Chain of Craters Road. I think the area will be more to your liking, Jenna."

How did he know what she liked? Had he been watching her these last few days? Was he in fact spying? "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, that's where some of the more interesting tourist attractions are. The fern and ohia forest. The Thurston Lava Tube. And Devastation Trail."

He glanced in her direction. "I know technically, you're not a tourist. But this'll be a refreshing change from all the desolation we saw along Crater Rim."

"Even Devastation Trail?" The name stuck in Jenna's mind.

"Oh, it's not so bad. There's a nice civilized boardwalk."

"You make it sound like a stroll along the beach."

He laughed. "Well, no. I'm afraid the walkway is surrounded by lava, dead tree skeletons, and more lava. But it makes a pretty striking picture."

"Have you painted it?" she asked, just now remembering he was an artist too.

"Actually I haven't. But I have an idea for something I might do in the future."

"I'd like to hear about it sometime," she said, meaning it. She was curious about his painting hobby. She couldn't remember having ever met a man with so many interests and talents.

"Sure. Maybe at dinner."

Their first stop along the Chain of Craters Road was at a place Matt referred to as "Tree Fern Forest." They walked down a sloping concrete path and into a lush green tropical rain forest. More ferns than Jenna had ever seen in her life were growing there, some draped in vines and all thickly surrounded by more plants and flowers, creating a dense mass of variegated greens. A jungle. Like her thoughts.

Oppressive, somehow. It made Jenna feel like holding her breath, waiting, expecting something deadly to jump out at her around every curve.

Laura leaned on Matt's arm, brooding again, a mood Jenna found disquieting.

She suddenly remembered the way Laura had acted at the club the night before, rushing out in tears when the song about opihis had come on. Matt had gone after her. But when Jenna went out after them twenty minutes later, Matt was nowhere to be seen, and Laura was standing, half-hidden in the shadows, talking to Bea and Tony Pereira. Jenna hadn't seen them come into the club.

It had taken her awhile to shake off the peculiar feeling the evening had left her with, so that she could relax and get some sleep. She had dreamed about Pele again, this time with her sister Hiiaka, as they were in the legend Tutu had told her. But Laura was Hiiaka and Dennis, the man they fought over. Bea would have been pleased to hear of it.

Now, up ahead, Jenna saw a short railed bridge leading into what appeared as a dark looming cave.

"I bet you're wondering how this tube got to be here," Matt said a moment after Jenna wondered the very thing. Reading her mind again? The thought made her uneasy, even embarrassed, now that her thoughts about him had taken a slight, into-the-bedroom sort of turn.

She stopped, staring blindly into the black and gray chamber that resembled a tube.

"Theory is that it was formed prior to 1800 when a lava flow rushing through here cooled and crusted over, leaving a still-molten flow oozing through in its interior. When the eruption slowed down and then stopped altogether, the flow moved right on through the hardened core, leaving this cave-like tunnel behind."

Matt finished his explanation with the grin Jenna realized she'd grown fond of. Too bad she didn't have science teachers who looked like him when she was in school. She peered into the cave, but to her it sent out an invisible "Do Not Enter" warning.

"It's all right. There are lights all the way through, and it comes out at the other end, not too many yards away." Matt sounded sure and confident, but, nevertheless, she stayed put. Let him or Laura go first.

"Oh, really!" Laura sounded annoyed, and unexpectedly rushed forward into the mouth of the tube. She was out of sight almost immediately. Jenna heard her laugh up ahead, a high, just-short-of-demented sound.

Jenna glanced at Matt, who appeared wary, and she followed him into the cave. It was pretty spectacular on the inside, its cylindrical walls textured in lava, with mosses growing along the interior and water dripping throughout. Jenna found herself looking up, wondering if bats were ever in residence here.

Laura was nowhere in sight.

Matt--had he noticed Jenna's shiver?--was suddenly beside her, casually draping an arm across her shoulders. "You're not letting it spook you, are you?" he whispered, his lips an inch away from her ear. His hot breath made her stop in her tracks and draw in her breath sharply. She turned to face him, and his lips were mere inches away from her own. Oh, God. He was going to kiss her. No! She couldn't let this happen. But her own traitorous lips were already parted in anticipation.

His mouth came down over hers, moist, warm and firm. She kissed him back-- God, help her but she did--as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He shaped her mouth with his own, and his tongue slipped in between her lips, tentative at first, then growing bold in its exploration.

Every nerve of Jenna's body was awakened and lit on fire. Powerful erotic sensations she had never felt before went rippling through her. She struggled to keep her senses in control so she could feel the heat of his caress, taste the sweetness of his tongue, heighten every second of intense pleasure.

Jenna brought her arms up around his shoulders and felt his firm hands gliding up and down her back, pressing her body closer to him. She heard a groan come between them--was that her?--and then she was pushing him away, not wanting to, but knowing there was a reason she had to. Laura. That was the reason. She and her friend boyfriend had just shared a mind-blowing, earth-shattering kiss.

"Laura." Jenna smoothed her hair back from her face. She could have melted right there at his feet when she saw the desire so plainly evident in his rich chocolate eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all. "But I've been wanting to do that ever since I first saw you at the airport."

She must have looked a mess, all disheveled and frantic. And she had no idea he'd felt immediately attracted to her.

"Laura," she said again, her voice still sounding weak and shaky.

"Ah, yes. I guess we better go find her. She'll be wondering what held us up." He started toward the exit as if nothing had just happened.

Jenna watched him go, taking in the squared shoulders, the jaunty swagger and thrust of his hips. His hair curled down his neck, a place where her own fingers played only moments ago.

That was all he had to say about Laura? We'd better go find her? What about the fact that she might have found him kissing another woman in a darkened cave? Laura would have had a fit if she had seen them. And what about her own feelings? Was she supposed to be melting in his arms one minute and business- like cool the next?

Honestly, he was just like Dennis. Giving in to whatever whim or woman struck his fancy at the moment. Not knowing if she should be more furious at Matt for having kissed her, or herself for enjoying it so much, she walked out of the lava tube.

She found Matt and Laura standing about fifty feet from the cave's exit, their heads together in quiet conversation. Not confessing, she hoped. No, he wouldn't be that stupid.

They broke apart when they saw her coming, and Matt's expression of guilt made Jenna suspect they'd been talking about her. Laura maintained her much- practised scowl. What was Jenna doing here? She obviously didn't belong. Just her luck to have drawn a project set in Hawaii.

"Come on, slow poke," Laura spoke up, her voice shrill and whiny. "I've got to get more stuff."

"Stuff?" Jenna echoed.

"Yeah. For my jewelry. That's why I came along, remember?"

Well, that's why she said she came along, anyway.

Jenna stole a glance at Matt, who met her eyes with his own. He looked angry, which made Jenna fume. He had kissed her after all.

But you kissed him back, said a pesty little voice in the back of her mind. Now, forget it. Back to work.

* * *

Matt guided the car carefully along the Chain of Craters Road, feeling like a damn fool. Why had he given in to his impulse? Why had he gone ahead and kissed Jenna?

Where she was concerned he had no more control than a schoolboy at a drive-in movie.

He wondered for the second time that day what had made him ask Jenna out to dinner. He'd already pretty much decided she didn't know anything about what was going on around here. She wouldn't know about the jewel-smuggling. She wouldn't know about a man killed in a fishing accident or a tourist found dead on a lonely roadside. If that was true he had no reason for spending time with her. No reason except his own desire.

Damn, but he was attracted to her. And now that he'd kissed her he'd only succeeded in making that attraction stronger. He cast a side-long glance at her sitting beside him in the car, staring silently out the window. He noticed the tiny frown of her lips and wondered if she was angry with him. Even repulsed by him.

But, no. She had kissed him back, there was no doubt about that. Matt ran his tongue across his bottom lip, remembering the shape of her mouth under his, remembering the taste of her. A taste of something sweet.

But then she had pulled back, hesitant, having second thoughts. She said they had to find Laura, reminding him he was supposed to keep an eye on that woman, not on her pretty friend. He'd pulled himself back, forcing his mind away from the feel of her body against his, the warmth of her arms wrapped around him. Forcing his mind to return to business as usual.

This hot and cold business wasn't his style. But with a job like his, where the going could get pretty dangerous, he had no choice. No attachments. The best thing he could do for the rest of this job was to steer clear of Jenna. Concentrate on Laura like he was supposed to be doing.

He glanced in the rear view mirror, eyeing Laura in the back seat. She was sitting straight and stiff, fidgeting the way she'd been doing all morning, tugging at her hair with nervous fingers. She looked like a cork about ready to pop. He wondered, not for the first time, if he'd be able to save her before she did.

* * *

Jenna kept her eyes to the view out her right side window. Their next destination, according to Matt, was the Devastation Trail. It turned out to be true to its name--a wooden walkway winding through a desolate forest of skeletal ohia trees, the native Hawaiian trees that provided the magical lehua blossoms she had read about. According to legend, the tree and the flower represented the lovers Ohia and Lehua. When Ohia spurned Pele's advances, the great goddess, in her anger, turned him into the ohia tree. Lehua, after uselessly pleading with Pele to return her lover to his normal form, appealed to the other gods. Taking pity on her, they turned her into the lehua blossom attached to the ohia tree.

Now legend had it that it rained whenever a lehua blossom was picked, representing the lovers' tears at the sorrow of being separated once again.

The dead branches had been bleached white after standing for many years, testament to the fact that Pele had once swept through there in her wrath.

That old line about the fury of a woman scorned leaped to mind. Had she been that angry after Dennis left her? Sometimes it seemed so long ago. He was dead now. Had that really sunk in yet?

The bare tree limbs blurred in Jenna's line of sight, her vision clouded by the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. Stupid tears for a man who had betrayed her? No, she realized. She didn't cry for losing Dennis. She cried for never having true love, that elusive yet desired butterfly that had passed her by.

Would she ever have that magical feeling of true, mutual romance?

Snap out of it, Jenna. She walked farther along on the boardwalk, surprised when it came to an abrupt end in the middle of nowhere. It was as if someone had run out of planks for building it, so had just stopped and gone home. Hawaii was a very curious place.

She turned and started back, wondering for the first time what had happened to Matt and Laura. Hadn't they been right behind her? She'd become so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn't noticed them go off. Laura was making a habit of disappearing.

Jenna walked back to the head of the trail. Matt stood there, one shoulder leaning up against the signpost telling visitors about the trail. She went up to him.

"Where's Laura?"

Matt shrugged. "She got impatient and walked on ahead of us. You know how she can get. So I said 'stick to the roadside' and we'll pick her up along the way."

"How odd."

He shrugged again. "Not really. She wanted to pick up some of this volcanic pumice."

Jenna looked down around her feet, stooping to pick up a handful of the little rocks he'd indicated.

"It's so light!"

"Yeah," he agreed. "If you put it in water it'll float."

"It will? How do you know that?"

His chuckle was rich and smooth like strong coffee going down first thing in the morning. "I know because I tried it. I guess I've still got some of the little boy in me. Take some back to the hotel if you don't believe me."

Jenna was still examining the tiny rocks in her hand. "What are all these little holes in it?"

"Haven't you ever heard about pumice? It actually started out as a froth of gas and molten lava. It cooled so quickly that the air bubbles were trapped."

"Interesting." She dropped the rocks back where she found them. "I think I'll just take your word for it. No point in upsetting Pele."

He laughed. "You're sounding like a real Hawaiian now. Come on. Let's go pick up Laura."

Jenna climbed up into the passenger seat.

* * *

They must have driven almost a mile with no sign of Laura.

"Wait--stop!" Jenna suddenly jerked up against the strap of her seat belt. "Look over there. Isn't that the box Laura was collecting her stuff in?"

"You're right, it is."

He'd barely braked at the side of the road when they were both out of the car. Jenna followed Matt, walking half-blind, craning her neck to try to see in every direction.

Matt found her first, and yelled to Jenna who was a good twenty yards away. She rushed over, reaching him just as he began scrambling down a sloping chasm in the lava rock.

Jenna leaned over the edge, her heart in her throat at the sight of Laura's crumpled body, sprawled on the rocks below.

Matt swore softly, under his breath. "Damn. I didn't want it to happen like this."

He scrambled down into the rocky crevice Laura had fallen into.

"She's unconscious!" he yelled to Jenna, touching Laura gingerly, checking for broken bones.

"I hate to move her, but there's not much choice here. The nearest hospital is miles away and I can't leave her out here in this heat."

He lifted Laura carefully, and climbed with her to the bank where Jenna stood. A sheen of perspiration glimmered across his forehead and his breathing was labored, his voice raspy.

"Get the blanket from the back," he ordered. Jenna hurried to obey, her movements automatic, her mind still numbly trying to believe the nightmare of what was happening. The nightmare something told her she wouldn't be waking up from.

Chapter Nine

A maddening mixture of thoughts and feelings whirled through Jenna's mind like a food processor. She had been sitting at Laura's bedside since the nurses had allowed her in, two hours after they'd brought her in yesterday afternoon. It was now early the next morning, and she'd taken only a short break to stretch out uncomfortably on one of the hospital waiting room's vinyl couches.

Her friend had not moved, except for her whispered breathing, in and out, in and out in a hypnotic rhythm. She lay swathed in hospital white, trapped in the coma she had entered out in the lava fields of the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.

Jenna recalled how Matt had scrambled into the rocky pit after Laura and the way he had carried her out of the pit and laid her carefully on the back seat of the Blazer. He'd driven like a man on the run, heedless of any speed limits, to the nearest hospital.

The island doctor, Doctor Kim, had talked to Jenna after his initial examination the day before.

"It could have been worse," said the big dark man who looked a combination of Hawaiian and Chinese, "She has no broken bones." His statement confirmed Matt's observation at the scene of the fall. "But although your friend has no visible head injury, she might have sustained one in the fall; that's the reason for her coma."

"What about the headaches I mentioned when we brought her in? And the medication I took out of her purse and gave to the emergency room nurse?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, I was told. The pills are a common tranquilizer. They would have helped if her headaches are stress-related. I won't know of any further cause until we do a brain scan and some x-rays. I don't want to move her any more today so I've scheduled those for first thing in the morning."

"She'd been behaving erratically too," Jenna added, debating on whether to insist they take an x-ray immediately. No, the doctor ought to know what he's doing, she decided. Even if the exam showed something wrong they weren't going to do anything about it with Laura in a coma.

Matt had stayed with Jenna at Laura's bedside until he needed to leave for work. He'd slipped into a peculiar mood shortly after they'd first been allowed to see Laura. Jenna thought he seemed more angry than worried about Laura's health.

"She shouldn't have even come along on the trip if she wasn't feeling well."

"She said she didn't have a headache this morning," Jenna put in. "Do you think she was lying?"

Matt scowled. "It wouldn't be the first time."

So, he knew about Laura's habit of embroidering the truth. She wanted to know more but knew it wasn't the time.

Who was he angry with? Jenna? Laura? Himself? Was he feeling guilty for kissing Jenna in the lava tube? She felt guilty. Not so much because she had kissed him back but because she had enjoyed it as much as she did. How could that irritating man make her respond like that? It had just been a simple kiss.

But what a kiss!

She had to push that wonderfully sensuous kiss out of her mind before it made her crazy.

Jenna made herself stand and walk closer to Laura's hospital bed. She hated hospitals. Ever since her mother's bout with pneumonia shortly after her father left. Run down, the doctors had said. Being over-stressed and working too hard makes the defenses weak.

But Mom had recovered. What about Laura? Jenna hated seeing her this way. So still. So helpless.

Even though Laura had been such a pain since Jenna had arrived. Even though she had hurt Jenna in a big way five years ago, they were still best friends. They had grown up together, played together, fought together, shared secrets with one another. They were stuck with each other for a lifetime. And Jenna loved her. She would always love her. She realized that when she had called to tell her mother about Laura's accident.

A nurse dressed in casual white slacks and a white and pink flowered smock came into the room and checked Laura's pulse and the plastic tubes and needles running into her body. The nurse smiled at Jenna.

"Why don't you go home, Miss Morley? The nurses going off duty said you've been here all night. You need to get some rest."

"I'm all right. I guess I just want to be here in case she wakes up and says anything. I want to know what happened."

"We'll be here checking on her every hour. There's no more that you can do. Why don't you go and take a nap, then come back this afternoon? I think it will do you a lot of good."

"I have to wait for my ride, then I'll go."

Jenna had forgotten until now that Matt promised to come back for her after he got off work. And she had scheduled a hypnotherapy session with Tony at his shop late that afternoon. Wearily, she sank back into the chair to wait.

Her mind whirred and buzzed as it had all night long. What was the cause of the bad headaches Laura had been having? Brain tumor? Aneurysm? Drug reaction?

What about the notes she and Laura had received? One especially disturbing thought kept popping up. Why was someone trying to kill her? Who? Pearl? Tutu? Bea?

Then there was Matt.

Oh, she hadn't worked out a motive yet. But he was the only one who had the immediate opportunity. Jenna had been on the Devastation Trail walkway by herself for some time. He could easily have walked or driven to where they'd found Laura. Maybe they'd quarreled. Maybe he'd had enough of Laura's bitchy moods. If she'd made him angry, laid out that one last straw, he might have snapped and shoved her hard enough to do the damage.

But all this was only supposition. She had no proof. No hard evidence. It was probably just a lot of nonsense anyway. Matt hadn't given her any indication that he had an uncontrollable temper. Just the opposite in fact. But still.

For that matter anyone else could have been out in the volcanoes area yesterday without them knowing it. Jenna had seen Laura, Bea and Tony with their heads together just the night before. Like they shared some big secret. But surely not Tony. He was head over heels in love with Laura. And such a gentle man, stuck in his Sixties' mode of peace and love and staying mellow.

But Bea--now there was someone who'd like to have Laura out of the way. Keep her from getting Laura's claws any deeper in her son's heart. Her precious Anthony. And from what Jenna had seen and heard, Bea was not the nicest of women.

Tutu had a bone to pick with Laura too. Laura said she was upset about her using Pele's raw materials to make her jewelry to sell to the tourists. That was kin to sacrilege to someone like Tutu. Plus there were the accusations she'd made the night before. Something about thievery and disrespect. And trouble. Pilikia.

Then there was Pearl. Had Laura been the ideal daughter-in-law? Jenna suspected not. Wouldn't Pearl have preferred her son to have married some nice island girl? Yet isn't that what Laura had become? Laura continued to live in Pearl's house. Did having her there remind Pearl too much of her dead son?

A dead son whom Laura had insisted was not killed accidentally?

Jenna's head began to throb. All she'd wanted to do was come to Hawaii and make a video. The kind of mess she had walked into was a nightmare.

* * *

Matt Kraemer was running through a mental list while driving from Hilo to the Volcano hospital to check on Laura and take Jenna back to her hotel in Hilo. A list of suspects.

Including Jenna.

He sifted through everything he'd learned about Jenna, both from Laura and from his own digging. He knew Laura and Dennis, Jenna's ex-fiance, had burned her pretty bad. Was all this friendly reconciliation act just that? An act?

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he reviewed his thoughts of Jenna over the past few days. They always ended up in the same place. He'd kissed her. She'd clung to him, kissed him back. He hadn't expected her response.

Damn!

He didn't have time for this. A man in his position would be a fool to fall for a woman he met on a job. He couldn't afford that kind of mistake. She was a suspect along with all the rest of them and he needed to keep her at arm's length, not in his arms, however nice it might feel to have her there.

He'd called the hospital several times throughout the night. And this morning before he left. No change. Laura was still deep in her coma. There was no way she could help him now until she came out of it. If she came out of it. If she didn't become another victim on his list.

And there was another thing bothering him. Jenna could be in danger too. She could be the next target. And the way things stood right now, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

* * *

Jenna kept her voice low. Soothing.

"Just relax. Relax your entire body. Breathing in. Breathing out."

She watched Tony staring at the lava lamp in his shop, their initial journey into hypnosis. Using the lamp instead of a candle flame had been his idea.

They had prepared their environment, pulled the blinds and dimmed the lights, turned off the phone and the answering machine. This was to be their quiet time, their time to search his mind for the past. The only sounds she wanted him to hear were the rhythmic movements of the ocean waves coming from her cassette player, and the steady sound of her voice.

Jenna had lighted the scented candle--ylang ylang for relaxation--its aroma wafting out with a curl of gray smoke stretching, reaching for her nostrils. She hoped the fragrance was affecting Tony the same way.

He was a good subject for going under. He knew how to relax. The responses seemed to flow naturally through him. She could tell when his breathing grew softer, more shallow. He was relaxing. The muscles in his face, his jaw, loosened. His body became very still.

"You are once again at the ocean," she continued. "You can hear the sound of the waves. Smell the salty ocean air. You can taste the salt on your lips and on your tongue." She was pleased to see him run his tongue across his bottom lip. "The ocean waves are gliding across the sand, long fingers stretching, reaching, up along the shore. Hear the ocean waves. Coming in, in, and going out, back out to sea. The constant rhythm of the waves will pull you deeper, deeper into relaxation."

Slowly, she guided him through the process. Jenna glanced at the lava lamp he watched steadily, its internal liquid pulsing slowly, keeping tune with her suggestion of ocean waves. Tony had been right. It was the perfect hypnotic tool.

"Let the waves wash through you. Their rhythms are caressing you, urging you deeper and deeper into relaxation. Their movements are a signal for you to let their relaxation hum through your entire body, from the top of your head, down, down, and out through your toes."

She reminded him about his breathing, even though he was already maintaining a smooth and easy rhythm. The repetition was essential, the guidance through every minute a needed part of the process.

"As we continue our journey you are feeling a great sense of comfort and peace. You are not afraid. You are totally relaxed."

Slowly, Jenna took him away from the shore, farther out into the ocean, to the point where he was wading out to the rocks where he and Dennis had been picking their cache of opihis.

"Your good friend Dennis is there. Do you see him?"

Tony smiled. "Hey, Dennis. How's it going, bro?"

"Good. You and Dennis talk. Do you remember what you talked about with your friend Dennis?"

"Talk. We talked about fishing. Picking opihis. Lots there on the rocks. Good time to pick."

"Good. Was anyone else there with you? Did you see anyone coming along the shore? Wading out through the water to you?"

"The water. The water was too rough. We should go back. Go back in." He sounded agitated.

"Breathe deeply in and out, Tony. The ocean is calm. Relax. There's nothing to worry about from the ocean. The water is flowing slowly in, and slowly out. Are you relaxed?"

"Yes, I see it. The ocean is calm. But then Dennis..." He broke off, his voice taking a higher, more tremulous sounding note.

"What about Dennis, Tony? What do you see? Who else is there with you and Dennis?"

"There's a woman. What is she doing here?"

"What woman, Tony? Who is the woman you see?"

"Old. She's old, too old. Wrinkled. Haggard. Too old to come with us. Dennis told her to go away."

"Who is the woman, Tony? This woman who is too old to be there with you. Can you see her face?"

Jenna was dying to ask straight out if it was Tutu. It was the only old woman she thought would fit. His mother Bea was too young to fit the description. So was Pearl. It had to be Tutu. But she knew better than to plant a suggestion in his mind. Better to work patiently through this.

"She's gone away. The old woman has gone away."

"Is Dennis still there with you?" Jenna felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Dennis. Yes, Dennis is here."

"Okay. Do you see anyone else? The old woman?"

"No, she's young. She changed. Now she's young."

"The old woman has changed into a young woman? You're sure?"

"Yeah."

Jenna was confused. Could he be describing the two faces of Pele? The old woman and the young beauty.

Tony frowned and his facial muscles grew tight. He appeared agitated. Maybe she should bring him out. But if they were close--

"Tony, do you know who the woman is? The young woman?"

He shook his head, rapid, jerky movements.

"She doesn't want to help. Oh, God, she wants to hurt us. No!"

He cried out, his face screwed up in pain or fear or both.

"Calm, now, Tony. You're safe. She isn't going to hurt you. Nothing can hurt you."

He appeared relaxed again. "Now what is it, Tony? What has she done? Tell me what the woman has done."

"She's talking to Dennis. Arguing. Yelling. No. She pushed him. She pushed... No. No, not Laura. Laura. No!"

Jenna worked fast. "When I count to three you will wake up. You will feel refreshed and alert, and knowing that you are safe. You will remember all that you have seen, knowing you are safe. No harm can come to you. You are safe. Counting, one. Two. Three."

Tony blinked and looked at her, seeming confused. "Jenna. What happened? What did I see?"

"Try to remember. The woman."

"Laura."

"Was it Laura who you saw? Tony, I need you to be sure. Was Laura there that day? Was it Laura who pushed Dennis?"

He frowned again, looking uncomfortable. He walked over and opened the blinds, and they both blinked at the sudden intrusion of the afternoon sun. He blew out Jenna's candle, and pulled the plug on the lava lamp. He reconnected the phone and the answering machine.

Was it so important to set everything back to rights before he could face what he'd seen?

"Tony?"

He ran a hand through his wavy hair, tugging at the ends in back.

"All right," he said. "All right. I saw Laura. She was there, but she didn't kill him. I know she didn't kill him."

Jenna wanted to weep at the pain in his eyes and in his voice. She wished she could undo it all. Take back what he'd seen. But she couldn't. Couldn't do a thing to change it, if that's what had happened.

Laura had lied about not being there that day. Her sister had killed her own husband.

The man Jenna was once engaged to herself. Did Jenna really believe that? Was Laura capable of such a thing?

And what about Madame Pele? The old woman and the young. But Tony hadn't said anything about Pele. Hadn't made the connection. It was a crazy idea anyway. No, he had said it was Laura. That made more sense.

Now, more than ever, she and Laura needed to talk things through. Just as soon as Laura regained consciousness.

The phone rang and Jenna started gathering her things. The candle, her purse, the cassette player.

"It's for you, Jenna. Matt."

Feeling she was on automatic pilot, she took the receiver. "Hello."

"Jen, I hoped I'd still find you at Tony's. It's Laura."

"Did she wake up?" Even as she heard herself asking the question she had a feeling it was just wishful thinking.

"No, Jenna, I'm sorry." His voice was level, no hint of emotion. "Laura has just died."

Chapter Ten

Jenna's fingers closed tightly around the telephone receiver. No, it couldn't be. She must have heard Matt wrong.

Laura couldn't be dead.

"Laura's dead?" she heard herself ask. "No. It can't be." Her voice came out in a gasp.

"Jenna? Jenna, are you all right? Jen? I'm coming right over."

She was aware of someone coming up behind her and prying the receiver from her white-knuckled grip. Tony.

Then he was speaking into the phone, asking questions, his words all jumbling together in Jenna's mind.

"Matt, what about Laura...? She can't be dead, man, no way. I don't believe it."

When he hung up the phone at last he put an arm around Jenna's shoulders, leading her, with the help of his cane, to the seats they had just left. They sank down into one of the beanbag chairs together and put their arms around one another. And wept.

Later, they would talk, ask questions, search for answers.

But to Jenna, for right now, it seemed like the only thing to do.

* * *

Matt's thoughts bounced back and forth between wanting to get to Jenna and needing to get to the bottom of things.

Another death added to the list and he hadn't been able to stop it. Another mystery. Another accident he'd been powerless to prevent. Being in the middle of things hadn't helped him one little bit. Or Laura.

He'd never gotten to know Laura very well. Oh, he'd tried. But she was one of those women who changed personalities the way they changed their clothes. A couple of times, just when he thought she was opening up to him, wham, she'd yank the shutters down and close him out.

Exactly what had Laura been involved in? Somehow he knew she wasn't just an innocent victim. Dennis too. But he didn't have enough pieces yet to put it all together.

Who was the next target? Jenna? Technically, Jenna was still a suspect. But she couldn't be responsible for all the deaths. She hadn't even been here for the others.

Unless she was working with someone.

Why did it suddenly seem so important to clear Jenna from any suspicion? Because he'd grown to like her in four days? Because he was so attracted to her? This was crazy. A man in his position ought to know better. And he did know better.

Then why the hell couldn't he stop thinking about her?

* * *

The rattling of the door to Tony's Hair Salon broke Tony and Jenna apart. Jenna felt tired and drained. How long had she and Tony sat there, holding each other and crying? And what made her thankful for Tony on the one hand, but longing for Matt's arms instead on the other?

Matt, she thought. Where was he now? Was he on his way here? Her mind was so filled with the image of his face. His smile. His touch. His kiss. Especially his kiss.

The noise at the door intruded once again. Beatrice Pereira stood on the other side of the glass, her face puffed and red with indignant outrage. Bea kept knocking, the continuous sound like a determined woodpecker.

Tony levered himself out of the beanbag chair with his cane. Jenna thought she should have gone to unlock the door for him, but the task seemed too complicated at the moment. Besides, she didn't want to see Bea anyway. Not that she could avoid her now.

Tony unlocked the door and Bea burst in, her eyes glaring daggers at Jenna.

"What's going on here?" Her red face was turning purple, clashing with her peacock blue eye shadow and raspberry lipstick.

Bea scowled at first Jenna, then Tony, and back again.

"Ma," Tony said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "we just heard about Laura. She never came out of that coma. She's dead, Ma. Laura's dead."

Bea opened her mouth, snapped it shut, tried again. "I'm sorry." It sounded insincere.

No, you're not, thought Jenna. You're probably glad she's got no more hold on your precious son. Your precious Anthony.

But a look at the pain still so evident on Tony's face, in his eyes, told her she was wrong. Laura still had a very big hold on Tony. He had loved Laura and now she was gone.

Jenna's heart went out to him, a man who had suffered so much tragedy and loss in the past six months. He'd lost his best friend, his good health, and the woman he loved. Now all he had was Bea. Not a bright picture.

Bea flashed a suspicious look at Jenna, then turned back to her son.

"How are you doing, Anthony? Is your leg very bad today? Have you taken your medicine?"

"Ma, stop fussing. My leg is the farthest thing from my mind right now. I've just lost Laura, for God's sake. I loved her."

Bea looked as if she'd been slapped. Surely Tony's admission of his feelings for Laura didn't come as any surprise.

"Well." She pinched her brightly painted lips together, her brows drawn inward as further indication of her displeasure.

Jenna suddenly couldn't wait to get out of there. As sorry as she was for Tony, leaving him in Bea's clutches, she felt like there wasn't enough air in the shop to draw another breath. Her lungs felt like they would burst if she didn't get out of there immediately. Tony could take care of himself. He was used to his mother by now, after all.

* * *

Jenna had gone straight back to her hotel room and called her mother, then into the bathroom to soak in a fragrant tub filled with warm water and scented oil. It was her way of coping. Things always looked and felt better after a long soak. It also gave her a chance to think about what she would do now. She still had her Pele project to work on. But only three more days. She might be able to get an extension on it from the station's executive producer. But she wouldn't.

Work would keep her going. She had always turned to her work to help her cope. That was why she'd added another job on the side. Hypnotherapy. She would continue working with Tony. Now, more than ever, she wanted to learn a few things. Under the guise of working on her program, maybe she could find out more about Dennis' death. Laura had insisted he was murdered. Was that true? Or had that been another of her friend's games? Laura hadn't exactly kept company with truth. She'd hidden the fact that she was there at the scene.

Jenna reviewed what little she'd learned in the past few days. Dennis' death might not have been an accident. Tony, under hypnosis, had implicated Laura in the incident. The shock of Laura's death had pushed that thought aside until now. She had to talk it over with Tony. They needed another hypnotherapy session together.

There were the anonymous, threatening notes too, that both she and Laura had received. There were the islanders she had met here in Hilo. Tutu had said intriguing things about Laura, indicating there was something questionable going on. Did Laura have anything to do with the gem smuggling? Jenna never had the chance to ask her. What was the big worry about her opal pendant she'd given Jenna for safe-keeping? And if Laura was in on a gem smuggling operation, who else was involved with her?

Jenna's mind was still awhirl with unanswered questions when she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the big white terry robe with the hotel's logo emblazoned in gold on the front. Her bath had not been as therapeutic as she'd hoped. She walked into the bedroom, reaching up to rub the knots that had settled in her neck.

That was when she saw the envelope lying on her pillow, her name printed in familiar black letters across the front.

One sheet of paper. Two words.

YOU'RE NEXT.

And something else in the envelope. She peered in, shook the contents out onto the bed.

Short, glass-like slivers of gold. Like fine sewing needles and bits of thin straw.

Pele's hair.

The knock at the door made Jenna jump, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Should she answer? Or pretend she wasn't here? It could be the same person who had left the threatening note and Pele's hair.

That person had gotten in without her knowing it.

She pressed her palms flat against the door, called out to ask who was there.

"Jenna, it's Matt. I need to talk to you."

Her breath caught in her throat. Should she answer him? She didn't know him all that well, didn't know his part in things. How did she know it wasn't him who'd left the envelope?

"Jenna? Please, let me come in."

She hesitated, slid the bolt aside, opened the door.

How did he manage to look dangerous and safe at the same time? She hadn't planned to end up in his arms but, God help her, she did.

Suddenly, her tears flowed freely, as they had with Tony, and she clung to him with a different kind of need. A need she hadn't felt in years. Matt held her while she cried, until she felt like a wrung out dishrag. She must look a sight. Why did that always seem to matter when she was around him?

He held her away from him, studied her face. "Jenna, we have some things to discuss. I know this isn't a great time, but we need to get to the bottom of this. Let's sit out here and talk."

He took her hand and walked with her out to the balcony. She was just about to sit down when there was another knock on the door. She started, but Matt put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently down into the chair.

"Room service," he said. "I ordered something for us to drink."

"I don't think I could..."

"Don't worry. Not one of those tropical monstrosities. Just a pitcher of plain old iced tea."

Yes, Matt was a take-charge kind of guy. And he seemed able to anticipate what she needed and to be there to provide it. She wondered if he was always like that with a woman.

Her mind drifted back to the cave and his explosive, mind-shattering kiss. Would he be a gentle lover, tender and sweet, giving more than he took? Or would he be urgent, demanding, taking and giving with equal passion until there was no more?

Stop it, Jenna. She was doing it again. Letting her thoughts about Matt wander to places they had no business going. He was the first man who had ever affected her this strongly. This enticingly.

She felt her face flush when he brought the pitcher and tray outside and poured two glasses before settling down in the other chair.

"You look like you've been crying." Good. He attributed her red face to her grief.

She took a sip from her drink. The iced liquid felt like balm to her parched throat. The salty ocean breeze felt good across her heated skin.

Jenna looked at him, saw that his face was etched with what could only be concern. She saw the question in his eyes, knew he understood she wasn't sure about him.

Suddenly, she felt the need to shed it all. What she had learned from Tony first of all. But, no, she couldn't. She was ethically bound to keep what she'd learned confidential. It was up to Tony himself to reveal what he'd seen.

Instead, she showed Matt the note she'd found on her pillow along with the glassy strands of Pele's hair. She'd tucked them into the pocket of her robe when he knocked on the door.

"Someone broke into your room." He stood, paced the length of the balcony, stopped in front of her chair. "You realize the danger you could be in, Jenna."

"No, that's just it. I don't understand about any of this. I've been over it all again and again and none of it makes any sense. I don't know what Laura was involved in and I don't understand why somebody's threatening me now."

The makeshift dam broke and her tears started up again. She couldn't remember ever feeling so lost and alone. And so needy.

Matt was there again, putting his arms around her, gathering her body against his own. She leaned into him. He felt so strong and solid, the kind of strength she was aching for.

He pulled her up out of her chair and back into the room. Matt's kiss was powerful, filled with the passion and promise of inner healing. He pulled back, cupped her face in his warm hands and kissed her more gently then. Softly, his lips nibbled tentatively at hers, brushed past them down her face and along her neck.

Jenna remembered for the first time since he'd shown up at her door that she was wearing nothing but a hotel bathrobe. She shivered at the dangerous game she inadvertently played.

"Are you cold?" His whisper was so close that he grazed her ear with his lips. She shook her head in response, unable to speak. He nibbled at her earlobe, kissed her neck again, caressed her throat with one hand while pulling her closer with the other. Held tightly against him she could feel his powerful need, unable to stop the moan from escaping out of her throat.

"Jen?" He drew back and whispered her name, the yellow specks in his chocolate brown eyes glinted with desire. She answered his question by drawing his lips back down to hers. Yes. This man was what she needed.

Matt pushed the terry robe down over her shoulders, stroking her bare skin with gentle hands. Taking her by the hand, he led her over to the bed, settling her down with a long lingering kiss. His look devoured her naked body, but she felt surprisingly unembarrassed by his frank appraisal. He paused, his hand halfway down, unbuttoning his aloha shirt.

"You're sure?"

She nodded again and in another heartbeat he was there, naked and warm beside her, gathering her into the much-needed strength of his arms.

"Jenna, you are so beautiful." He kissed her long and deep, thrusting his tongue in a fevered match with her own.

Once again he trailed kisses along her neck, at the base of her throat, dipping lower to take one breast hungrily into his mouth. Jenna moaned as he suckled one taut nipple thoroughly before moving on to the other. He kissed her belly, his teasing fingers igniting fire wherever they moved.

Matt took her hand in his, guided it gently down the length of his body and around the core of his desire. She drew her breath in sharply at the strength of him, and his fingers stroked her own impassioned fire at the same time.

He gasped at her sure strokes, then surprised her by moving her hand away. Had she done something wrong? But he answered her questioning look with a shake of his head. "Jenna, I want you so much I don't think I can hold back for long."

She swept her arms around him, pulling his body up over hers. "Matt, I want you too. I need..."

She broke off when she felt him position his body over hers. He entered her with a smooth, powerful thrust making her cry out. She met his movements with her own, wrapping her legs around him, matching him stroke for stroke.

Their fulfillment was explosive, and they rode the wave together, finally collapsing together side by side.

Matt kissed her hair, her face, her throat, whispering words she had longed to hear.

Jenna wondered at the power of what she felt. Never had being in any man's arms felt so good, so right. Her body and mind were spent with their lovemaking and her tears. They had come together in their grieving and their need. Snuggling in his arms, she had no regret.

Chapter Eleven

It was dark when Jenna opened her eyes. She must have been asleep for several hours. They were sprawled together amidst a tangle of sheets. Matt still had one arm possessively around her waist. She could get used to having him in her bed. Very used to it.

She watched him sleep, his long brown lashes fanned out against tanned cheeks. The kind of lashes women envy. The stubble of dark whiskers shadowed his chin, giving him an appealing, rugged look.

Jenna peered at the clock beside the bed. Ten o'clock. It was almost time for his radio program. He would have to leave within the hour. She felt saddened at the thought, saddened that this one night was all they would ever have. She knew Laura would always come between them. Laura, who had been alive just yesterday, but was dead today.

Jenna and Matt had come together out of a need to grieve, a need to prove to themselves, in the haze surrounding Laura's death, that they were still very much alive. They had needed to feel, to taste, to experience.

But Jenna wondered if there could be any more. He had been Laura's, and she would not presume to take her friend's place.

He wouldn't want her to.

Why did the realization hurt so much?

Because she had fallen in love with him in just the few days she'd known him?

Because she could tell he was one of those men who cringed in fear of the C- word. Commitment. Jenna was all too familiar with his type.

No. Let him go back to his radio groupies and his beach bum ways. He was definitely the wrong man.

She nudged his shoulder. He blinked awake, looked at her, confused, then smiled.

"Morning." He stretched his gorgeous body out full length. Jenna drew in a breath, biting the edge of her bottom lip.

"I thought I'd better wake you up. It's almost time for your radio show."

He rubbed his hands over his eyes, those same strong hands that had covered every inch of her body just a few hours ago. Jenna drew herself up sharply, grabbing for her robe to cover herself when she got out of bed. Was it her imagination, or did he look disappointed?

Matt looked at her with a questioning frown. There was no sign of what she'd seen in them before, when they'd reached out for one another in their time of need.

"Jen, about last night...well, tonight," he corrected.

She pulled the sash of the robe tightly around her waist. She let her hair fall across her face. Better for him not to see the pain in her own eyes.

"It's all right. I'd rather you didn't say anything. It was just something that...happened."

He frowned. "No, Jenna, you don't understand." He reached out for her hand. It would be so easy to go back into his arms, to forget once again that he wasn't hers. But she couldn't.

She pulled her fingers out of his grasp and walked briskly to the bathroom, tossing over her shoulder. "Just give me a minute and the bathroom's all yours. You shouldn't be late for work."

* * *

Matt lay back against the pillows, his arms crossed behind his head. What was with Jenna? She acted like tonight had never happened. Or worse, like it had all been some big mistake.

The lousy morning after. Brooding over a bad mistake.

Sure, he knew why they needed tonight. He knew why they'd rushed into it. But he'd been attracted to Jenna from the first moment he saw her at the airport. He hadn't been planning on acting on the attraction this soon but it had been beyond his control.

Maybe it was just as well that Jenna was all icicles now. He was too mixed up in things right now to worry about a romance. Too much complication. Why ask for trouble? There was enough of that falling into his lap as it was.

What about Laura and the others? There was still so much to work out. The jewel smuggling. The accident that had killed Dennis. This new one that took Laura. So much that had gone wrong. Part of him felt guilty, even personally responsible for what had happened to Laura. His being in her life hadn't done her any good. It might have even harmed her.

Well, he was damn sure not going to let the same thing happen to Jenna. So maybe she had the right idea. Maybe tonight had been a mistake that shouldn't be repeated. That's what she believed.

Now all he had to do was convince himself.

* * *

Jenna walked the curving length of Banyan Drive after dark. Three a.m. Matt's radio shift would end in two more hours. She had gotten no more sleep after Matt left, though she had tried. The sheets had held the delicious outdoor sand and surf scent of him, driving her crazy with remembering their fevered love-making.

He had been angry with her when he came from the shower, his hair clinging in damp tendrils along his neck.

"All right, we'll play it your way. Pretend it never happened."

She didn't blame him for being angry. She had made sure he'd awakened to a perfect witch.

"Fine. You'd better get over to the station if you don't want to be late." She'd practically thrown him out. He didn't know her well enough to know she wasn't usually like that in the morning. One of those people who was an absolute bear before that first cup of coffee. She had done it on purpose. Hurt him before he had a chance to hurt her.

It seemed like the sensible thing to do at the time. Besides which there was Laura. Was he angry at the both of them for sleeping together? A kind of slap in the face of Laura's memory, wasn't it?

Jenna reached the end of the drive and turned to go back. The street was deserted, giving her the momentary feeling she'd walked into a tropical ghost town. But then she heard the faint sounds of laughter traveling across the night air. The other tourists staying in Banyan Drive hotels would be inside the clubs, dancing and drinking those huge Polynesian drinks.

The thought reminded her of dancing with Matt that night they'd all gone to the club to see Pearl's Pele dance. So much had happened since then that it seemed like such a long time ago.

All she'd wanted to do here was work on her project. And make peace with her best friend after five years of silence. Now Laura was dead. And she'd slept with the man who was supposed to be nothing more than her camera operator. A working trip that had fallen in on disaster. How was she going to finish her video now?

The huge banyan trees on either side of the road seemed dark and threatening, not the greatest surroundings for the mood she'd awakened in. Jenna had the feeling of being in an enchanted forest with trees held prisoner under an evil spell. Shadows of gloom hovering over what should have been an island paradise.

The message light on her phone was blinking when she got back to her hotel. Matt. No, Jenna, don't be stupid. You won't be hearing from Matt Kraemer any more. Not after last night. Not after the way she'd treated him when they woke up.

But despite that resolve she felt disappointed to learn it was just a message for her to call Tony. So he wasn't sleeping either. She phoned him back, to hear he'd been brooding about Laura.

"I can't get what happened out of my mind, Jenna. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that something was wrong with what came out of my hypnotherapy session. No way do I believe Laura was responsible for Dennis' death and my injury."

"You seem to feel pretty strongly about that, Tony. What do you want to do?"

"I want to try it again. Another session of hypnotherapy, to see things come across more clearly this time. I want to clear Laura. I don't want her to take the blame for what someone else was responsible for."

"Okay, fine, we'll try it again." She wanted to warn him about getting his hopes up but didn't. This was so important, they would try one more time. "When do you want to meet?"

"Now. Right away. If that works for you," he added.

"I can understand your eagerness, but I had...a bit of a rough night. Can we make it later in the day?" It was too soon for her to try dealing with the mystery Laura had gotten her into. Too soon to stop thinking of the night she'd just spent in Matt's arms. Part of her wanted to delve right in. Ask questions of everyone. Dig deeper to see what she could find. Forget everything else. Everything. But another part of her said no, do what you've always done when you're hurting and confused. Work.

Except now she had no camera operator. Matt couldn't be the only person on the entire Big Island who could handle a video camera. She would rent one and do it herself. How hard could it be?

She would call later this morning and arrange a meeting with Tutu to learn more of the Pele legends. She would explore the rest of Hilo--the part other than Banyan Drive that she hadn't seen yet--to see if there was anything else she could use. Then maybe the next day she would rent a car and drive back to the Volcanoes National Park.

No, she couldn't go back to the place where Laura had died. Especially not by herself. But she had to. Had to face the reality of what had happened.

An hour later she was back walking down Banyan Drive. Four a.m. Now the street really did look and sound like a ghost town. Everyone was asleep but her.

And Matt.

He had one more hour left to work.

What was she doing going there to see him so soon after...after the last time? He wouldn't want to see her. But no matter how often she repeated that to herself, she couldn't keep away.

The outer door to the radio station was unlocked. Strange for this deserted time of day. Jenna pushed it open a crack and peered in. A dimly lit outer office and hallway were all she could see.

Jenna walked in, letting the door whisper shut behind her. Her heart thumped against her rib cage, filling her ears with its imagined sound. Where would she find Matt? What if he wasn't alone here and he and a co-worker resented her intrusion?

For the first time she had a worse thought. What if one of his groupies was here?

Come on, Jenna. Would he go from one woman's arms straight to another's?

Why not? It's what Dennis had done.

But he wasn't Dennis.

She crept down the hall and stopped in front of the picture window on the left. Obviously the control room. Her glance took in the turntables and tape machines, the racks of records, tapes and CD's. The tiny, over-filled room brought back a lot of memories. Her own early days as a disc jockey in California. Memories of Dennis too.

The announcer's chair was empty, a set of headphones tossed casually in front of the control board. Music was playing in the background, turned down low. Where was Matt? She knew from her own radio days the DJ never went far. She and her co-workers had quickly learned the long songs to play for bathroom and food breaks. Was Matt on one of them?

She waited, looking toward a back room, expecting to see Matt emerge at the song's end. But one tune segued neatly into another, calling her attention to a rolling reel to reel tape machine above the CD players. There was about six hours' worth of tape on the reel. Was all of Matt's music pre-recorded onto one reel so he could be off doing something else? But what about the commercial breaks, the station ID's and other announcements?

Her questions were answered when, at the end of the next song, a commercial rolled in followed by Matt's clear voice in a station ID. His whole show was on tape. Was he even here? Someone had to be. A radio station didn't run itself.

Jenna took another step into the studio, then stopped, thinking again of radio station groupies. Matt could be in some woman's arms in the back room. The thought made her angrier than it should have. She had no claims on him.

She turned to go back the way she'd arrived. It was a stupid idea to come here. Better to leave Matthew Kraemer alone. Better finish her project by herself and go back to Oregon.

The song ended, followed by a silence that seemed to last too long. Out of habit, she turned back to check the machine. At that moment another song began, one with a loud staccato beat. She jumped and, to her horror, knocked over a pile of carts stacked up near the edge of the counter. They landed in all directions, causing what surely must have been the crash heard 'round the world.

Matt filled the back doorway, a paintbrush of all things, in his hand. He looked from her to the mess of carts on the floor and back again.

"Jenna. What are you doing here?"

Oh, God, he doesn't want to see me. What am I doing here making a fool of myself anyway?

"Matt, I..."

She could feel the flush starting at the roots of her newly-highlighted hair, traveling swiftly down the length of her face and neck. She was sure even her toes must be blushing.

Get a grip, Jenna, she told herself, not for the first time since being thrown together with this man. It was even worse now that she'd made love with him. Now that she knew she loved him.

He came closer, studied her face, no doubt waiting for her to find her tongue and say something.

"I hope it's all right that I'm here. I mean you did say you'd show me the station sometime."

"At four in the morning, eh? Well, okay, I can give you the tour. Is that the only reason you're here?"

Did he look hopeful? No, Jen, it's purely your imagination.

"You also invited me to go to the beach with you one morning. To see you surf?"

"Yeah, I remember. And to watch the sunrise."

Jenna felt like a gawky teenager.

Matt set his paintbrush down on a folded newspaper, walked closer and put a hand under her chin. "What's the real reason you came down here?"

"I...I thought we could talk. This morning I was feeling like last night was, well, kind of a nightmare."

He lifted an eyebrow and blinked in that funny way. "Thanks a lot," he commented drily.

Now she must really be red. "No, that's not the part I mean. You know, Laura's death and everything. I guess I need to talk over some things. I don't know anyone here very well, except--"

"Okay, I've got another forty minutes. Then we'll talk."

"Do you always pre-record your show like that?" She indicated the spinning reel-to-reel tape.

"No. But I always keep a backup show in the can for nights like this when I'd rather not be normal Mr. DJ. Then I stay in the back room and paint."

He picked up the carts she'd knocked over and forgotten in her embarrassment.

"You want some coffee?"

Jenna nodded gratefully, suddenly realizing how much she needed a jolt of caffeine. "Be right back." Matt disappeared down the hall.

Jenna looked around again, her glance resting on the paintbrush he'd laid on the counter, its crimson smudge blood-like against the stark newspaper black and white. He said he'd been painting. Jenna had enjoyed the paintings she'd seen at Laura's gallery. She'd love to see one of his works in progress. She was sure he wouldn't mind.

She crept into the room he'd emerged from, obviously someone's office with a huge desk spread with papers and books. Strange place for an office, hidden behind the control room. She noticed an easel standing to one side and walked to it.

The painting took her breath away, but not because of its beauty. She stared in horror at the blotchy images painted on the large canvas. It wasn't anything like the gentle island scenes she'd seen represented in his other works. This was an abstract. Very abstract.

Jenna studied the painting from different angles. In one way it looked like nothing more than a mass of blotches set down on one side of the canvas and mirrored on the opposite side. Almost like ink blots. Maybe even a little bit like tie- dye. But from other directions, she could swear she made out recognizable shapes and images. A huge volcano crater glistened blackly against a red and orange sky. Flames burst from the center of the crater, hot tongues of fiery red, orange and yellow, reaching out, caressing the dual-faced creature that sprang up out of the middle.

Madame Pele.

Jenna would have recognized her anywhere. The young flaxen-haired beauty and the old and wrinkled hag.

Then Jenna blinked, and Madame Pele was gone. Had she merely imagined seeing the great Hawaiian deity? She looked again, and saw another face, this one's features arranged in an expression of unspeakable horror. Jenna closed her eyes, then opened them and looked again. But the image refused to go away. Now she looked into the anguished face of her dead friend, Laura.

Chapter Twelve

Jenna had not waited for Matt to return with the coffee. She had gotten out of the radio station fast, the terror of what she'd seen on Matt's freshly-painted canvas providing the adrenaline.

She ran past him in the lobby, mumbling incoherent excuses in answer to his questioning look.

Tony. She needed to get to Tony.

But it was still so early in the morning. Tony wouldn't be at his shop for a couple of hours yet. What to do in the meantime? She could continue to wander the curves of Banyan Drive. But the thought of the trees' twisted talons casting their shadows out to torment her....no, she would go back to her room at the hotel.

But what about Matt? Well, what about Matt? It was her room and she had every right to be there while he didn't. If he came looking for her she simply wouldn't answer the door. Pretend she was out. But why would she expect him to come looking for her?

Don't flatter yourself, Jenna. She'd be lucky if she ever saw him again after the way she just behaved. Why lucky? She ought to be glad she might never see him again. Shouldn't she?

Never mind Matt, she scolded herself. Don't even think about him anymore until you've talked to Tony.

Tony had tried to warn her about Matt. That he had a secretive dark side. But she had not believed him. Jenna thought Tony was leery of Matt as a rival for Laura's affections. Laura, who had toyed with both men. Jenna wondered if there were others.

She couldn't help wondering what other secrets Laura had kept.

* * *

Matt set the two cups of coffee down on the desk in the back room. Now what had gotten into Jenna to make her run from him like that? Her changes in behavior were getting as bad as Laura's. One minute she had been talking to him about his radio job and saying she would go with him to the beach. He'd started thinking they could straighten out the awkwardness that hung between them after last night and then he'd gone for coffee and wham--Jenna had run out on him without even a see you later, pal.

He looked at the unfinished painting on his easel. Had Jenna been looking at it? It was pretty awful, even for an abstract. But he wasn't painting to create pretty pictures. Not like the paintings in Laura's gallery that were accredited to him. He was painting to think, to try working out the difficult twists and turns of what was going on around here.

It was his way of thinking when a puzzle was especially tough. Paint whatever flowed out of the brush, no matter how weird. Sometimes he got answers that way. Sometimes not.

But of course Jenna didn't know that. Seeing something like this mess she probably thought he was demented. He'd better go find her and explain. As soon as his radio show was finished and he could get out of here.

Or was he better off keeping his distance and leaving it alone? Let her be upset at him and determined to stay away. He had no business falling for a woman at this point in his life. With a sinking feeling, Matt realized what he'd just admitted to himself. He was falling in love with Jenna.

* * *

Tony wasn't surprised to see Jenna when she showed up at his shop shortly after he'd opened. She sat waiting in the pink beanbag chair until he was finished with his first customer and came to join her.

"You were right about Matt," she blurted the minute he sat down. "About his dark side. I saw a painting he was working on this morning at the station. In the back room."

She told him about the painting she'd seen. About the different faces of Madame Pele and about how she'd seen the image of Laura's face there too.

"Of course it was an abstract," she added. "But Pele and Laura were who I saw in it, I'm sure of it. Do you think he means Pele was responsible for Laura's death?"

"That's what it sounds like," agreed Tony after some thought. "If that's true, then Matt could be the one who sent those threatening notes to you and Laura. Laura told me about them."

"Then he was in my room without my knowing it. To leave the note and the strands of Pele's hair. He must have taken them from Laura."

"What else do you remember about the painting?"

"The way he portrayed Pele, the young woman and the old--it was just the way you described seeing her while you were under hypnosis."

"Did you tell Matt anything about that?"

"Of course not." Jenna was hurt that he thought she would break a confidence.

"I'm sorry. I guess I knew better, but I just had to ask. Me and my big mouth."

Jenna remembered something else. "The brush strokes were way different from his normal paintings--the ones he sells at Laura's shop. The Pele painting was done in thick, angry slabs of paint. Like Van Gogh did. Maybe he uses a palette knife for some of it."

"Makes Matt a bit of a split personality, doesn't it? I felt there was something strange about him. Like he really had something to hide."

"Of course, to be fair, we haven't got proof of anything."

"You sound just like Laura. She was always defending him too."

"I'm not defending him. I just said we can't prove he's done anything wrong. I don't think you can have someone arrested because they painted a weird picture. An abstract weird picture."

Jenna wondered if Tony could tell she had something to hide. Well, she wasn't about to admit she'd gone to bed with Matt. That wasn't relevant to anything. Except maybe that she'd been a fool.

Now it turned out that the man who'd held her in his arms and made love to her like there was nothing else in the world, might be responsible for sending threatening notes. He might even be a killer.

"Listen, Jenna, I'd like to try another session. To see if I can remember anything else."

"And hoping you don't see Laura again this time?"

Tony's expression was grim. "How did you know? Oh, never mind. I guess where Laura's concerned I'm pretty transparent."

They went through the same ritual as their first hypnotherapy session, closing out distractions and setting up the tools for relaxation. The cassette tape of ocean waves, the scented ylang ylang candle, the slowly pulsing lava lamp.

Jenna spoke soothingly to Tony, urging him to breathe deeply, to watch the hypnotic movements of the lava lamp, to listen to the rhythm of the ocean waves, taking him deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation.

"Let your mind take you back to the ocean side. Hear the sound of the waves rolling in and out. Smell the fresh salt air."

"Dennis." Tony blurted the name.

"Yes, Dennis is there too. What is Dennis doing?"

"Picking opihi. He wanted to take plenty home. Surprise his mother. Pearl loves opihi."

"Good. Did Dennis talk about Pearl then?"

Tony shook his head. "Only want to bring Pearl opihi. Talk about Laura."

"What about Laura?" Jenna tried to keep the urgency out of her voice.

"Laura came down to see us. Laura and someone with her."

"Who is with Laura, Tony? Try to picture the other person."

Tony's face screwed up into a frustrated frown. "Can't see. She's fuzzy."

"You said she's fuzzy. Is the person with Laura another woman?"

"Yes. Woman with Laura." His breathing was becoming more rapid. He twisted his fingers together in his lap. When he spoke again his voice was raised in pitch. "Can't see her. She's hiding her face from me. Can't see, can't see."

"Tony, relax. Breathe slowly, softly, in and out."

"Can't see," he said again, even louder. Jenna's calming words had no effect.

"Breathe, Tony. Gently..."

"Can't see her." Tony broke in. "Why? Why?" His voice was an anguished cry. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide and looked at Jenna. He'd broken out of trance.

Jenna took his hand and stroked it gently.

"I want to try again," he said, his voice choked and low. "Put me back under."

Jenna shook her head. "No, Tony. Not yet, not so soon. Let's give it a rest at least until tomorrow."

She hoped he didn't realize how upset she was by what this last session had revealed. But she was concerned. Something in his memory was blocking. Something so powerful it had pulled him out of trance.

* * *

Jenna left Tony's shop following their session with a resolve to gather more on the Pele legends. She'd called Tutu, who had agreed to see her at the home where she and Pearl lived and Jenna, armed with directions and a rented car had driven the distance to Tutu's village.

"You still want to know Pele, I tell you about her." Tutu's words had carried an ominous warning. "I tell you the story of the Night Marchers too. Better you get here before dark for that one."

The Night Marchers. They were mentioned in the note Laura had received. She must have talked to Tutu about it, maybe asked her to tell Jenna too.

What she needed was a good immersion in Hawaiian legends to get her back on track with her research. The sooner she could complete her research the sooner she could head back to the safe haven of Oregon. Never had Portland beckoned so persistently.

The home Laura had shared with Tutu and Pearl--and previously, with Dennis- -was an old structure of weathered wood in varying shades of gray with a roof of corrugated green iron. It was one of the typically Hawaiian two-story structures she'd noticed on arrival, and remembered someone telling her the families generally lived in the upper-floor main quarters. The lower floor, walled in only by evenly-spaced wood slats, was used for hanging clothes to dry on a rainy day.

Pearl greeted Jenna at the door, ushering her inside through a ground floor entrance.

"How nice to see you again, Jenna," she said with the same warmly graceful manner she had displayed at the club a few nights ago. Jenna wondered how the death of her daughter-in-law had affected her and Tutu. Would they miss the woman who had continued to live with them since Dennis' death six months ago or were they secretly relieved to have her out of their home and their lives?

Jenna heard Hawaiian music as Pearl ushered her through the basement level of the house, one large room with cold cement floors and visible floor supports and plumbing on the ceiling. To one side of the room a group of little girls, four to six years old, Jenna guessed, practicing their hula movements. The floor there was spread with woven straw mats.

"I teach hula here in my home," Pearl explained. "Just a small group today. The little ones--my favorites. Best age to teach hula. Be right back, girls," she called, leading the way up a narrow staircase. Jenna had the feeling of going up into the attic, until they emerged into an airy, brightly lit kitchen.

Lacy curtains fluttered in the breeze over a row of potted plants. Other plants sat on the kitchen counters and on windowsills and tables in the living room/dining room right next to the kitchen.

"What a lot of plants," Jenna commented. "Is it you or Tutu with the green thumb?"

"Ah, that's my department. I'll have to take you for a tour of my garden afterwards. I'm quite proud of my collection of native Hawaiian plants. Some of them I use in cooking and for special medicines."

"Really? Folk medicine. How interesting. Laura never mentioned your other talent."

Jenna had the feeling a shutter suddenly fell across Pearl's eyes and there was a sinister set to the lines of her mouth. "I'm not surprised. She laughed at what she liked to call my 'magic potions.' I even tried mixing her something for the headaches she was having but she didn't appreciate it. That was our Laura."

Jenna eyed several clear glass jars on the windowsill, noticing they were filled with what looked like seed pods and sections of root. A mortar and pestle sat on one counter along with a couple of sharp looking knives. It resembled a home science lab. Or a witch's cabin. She was about to ask another question when Pearl shrugged her shoulders, then pointed dismissively to a chair in the living room and disappeared down a short hallway.

Jenna sat, mulling over Pearl's last statement and the curious way she called her friend "our Laura."

A moment later, Pearl reappeared with Tutu right behind, then headed back down to her hula studio. Jenna could hear the faint strains of Hawaiian music drifting up from downstairs.

Tutu was dressed, as she had been at the club, in a holo muu, popularly known as the granny muu, a long dress of calico material, trimmed with small ruffles at its high neckline, long sleeves and hem. Jenna once again thought the elderly woman looked small in it, but no less threatening.

"What legend of Pele do you come to hear today?" she asked Jenna, seating herself on the sofa and drawing her small bare feet up to tuck them beneath her.

"I want to know about the sacrifices that were offered back then to appease the goddess." Jenna had set her cassette recorder up on the coffee table.

"They are still offered today. Don't you know the old ways are still very much alive?"

"Of course," Jenna sputtered. Tutu sounded so accusing. "Would you tell me about them please?"

Tutu's face took on a distant expression and she tilted her head slightly to one side as she began.

"The earliest known offerings were limited to the broad young leaves of the taro plant."

"Taro? What is that?" Jenna's pen hovered poised above the note pad, ready to write the translation.

"Taro is a member of the arum family."

Arum? Jenna would look that one up herself.

"Its root is what we pound for our poi. The leaves, big and heart-shaped. We wrap the leaves around the meat and fish when we make lau lau."

"Lau lau. I think I'd better get myself a book of island recipes."

"Yes, you better. You are too much of a greenhorn, you do not know enough about our island."

Jenna flushed at the stinging, though accurate, observation.

"Best thing you get Matt to take you to a Hawaiian luau," Tutu added.

Luau. That word Jenna knew, Hawaiian for feast. But she wasn't about to let Matt take her to a luau or anyplace else. She'd just have to finish her research without him. She didn't plan to see him again if she could help it.

"You want to hear the rest or not?"

Tutu's raised, impatient tone jolted her thoughts away from Matt.

"Yes. I want to hear everything."

"Well, better pay attention."

Jenna thought Tutu would have made an effective elementary school teacher. She'd make sure the kids listened to her lessons and listened well. Though her manner was a bit gruff.

Tutu mentioned other offerings that were made to Pele as the goddess became better known in the islands. The offerings of meat and bananas had previously been presented to other gods before Pele as well.

"People used to offer leis strung from the lehua blossoms too. Very special gift."

"Didn't picking them make it rain?" Jenna asked, remembering what she'd read of the ohia-lehua legend.

"Yes, but that pleases Pele, that lehua cries for her lover."

"Oh, that's right. She was furious when ohia refused her."

"Today most people bring simple things as offerings of respect only. Tobacco, coins, bottles of gin."

"But what about appeasing Pele when her temper erupts? Isn't that the time when people would bring the most offerings? Like now, with the earthquakes we've been having."

"No. Offerings too late then. When Pele is angry, she has power no one can control."

Jenna was digesting this bit of information when Tutu launched into a legend of the man Pele was once married to.

"His name was Kamapuaa, or, 'pig child.'"

Pele's husband complained of her constant anger and fiery temper. Pele retaliated by saying he was dirty as a pig. With his powers he brought a heavy rain to douse Pele's fires, but she was more powerful. She threw hot rocks at him and then a lava flow that burned him. While he was trying to get away, he changed himself into many things. First a pig, then ferns, grass, and at last a tiny hog fish.

"After that people brought these things when they wanted to please her."

Jenna clicked off her tape recorder at the end of Tutu's story. She wanted to hear more but did not want to annoy Tutu by wearing out her welcome, grudgingly as it was given after all. She put her pen and note pad into her purse and stood up, but Tutu waved her back down into her seat.

"I thought you wanted to know the story of the Night Marchers."

Of course. How could she have forgotten? Would the story bring any clues about who had sent Laura that note and why? Jenna sat back, but left the note pad and pen in her purse, and did not bother to click on the cassette recorder. This story was not for research sake. This one was personal.

Tutu licked her lips and folded her hands, palms up, in her lap. "Ka huaka'i o ka Po," she said. "The Marchers of the Night." Her eyes narrowed and settled on something just beyond where Jenna sat waiting, and then she began.

She told Jenna there were few people who had seen the procession of ghosts and spirits that made up the Night Marchers. That was because to see the marchers would be fatal, unless the witness had a relative among the dead to come between him and the angry god who would otherwise strike him down.

"Some have been found dead along the roadside," Tutu said. "The haole doctor say he has had a heart attack. But a Hawaiian will know the true cause. He will know there has been a fatal night march."

"But why does a witness have to be struck down?" Jenna dared to ask.

"Because it is sacred and not for the unchosen to look upon. It is the old way." She pressed her lips together and was silent for several minutes before continuing. She said there was a slight chance the witness would be spared. He must remove his clothing and lie perfectly still, eyes shut and with very little breathing. "He must not look upon the sacred face of the god or he is surely doomed." Tutu's voice held a tone of finality.

Jenna shivered in response to the tale, but gathered her things and stood as before.

This time Tutu stood with her. "Come back tomorrow," she surprised Jenna with her invitation. "I tell you more about Pele. Meantime, when you drive back on the way to Hilo, don't refuse a ride to any old woman. Old woman might be Pele."

"What happens if she's refused a ride?"

"Auwe! Plenty pilikia. Better you go back to mainland where you belong."

* * *

Jenna was on her way down the front steps when Pearl stepped out from the shadows below. Was it Jenna's imagination or did her smile seem forced, maybe even guarded? Why would it be unless she had something to hide? Laura had talked about Pearl's strange behavior following Dennis' death. But she had only hinted at an obsessive fascination with her plants, not providing any real information.

"I promised you a tour of my garden," Pearl announced.

Jenna found her tone accusing, as if Pearl thought she'd been trying to sneak away.

"I'd love a tour. Just let me stash my things in the car."

Jenna caught up with Pearl and followed her down a gravel path running along the side of the house. They were surrounded by the gray of approaching evening and a surprising chill in the air.

Fragrant flowering trees lined both sides of the path. The delicate blossoms were tinted in shades of red, pink and yellow.

"You recognize the plumeria, I am sure," Pearl assured.

Gladly, Jenna could nod, having learned the popular flowers are most often sewn together for leis. "I noticed you and the other ladies wearing them for your dances."

"Yes, they are a favorite. So are these vanda orchids." Pearl indicated a row of spiky leaved plants with delicate purple flowers. "They have no fragrance," she added, when Jenna bent her head to a blossom.

They wandered through rows of other exotic flowers, Pearl commenting on various ones.

"Now we approach my true fascination," she announced, pausing at a rock wall entrance. "These are the plants I cultivate for medicinal purposes."

Jenna was interested. "Laura mentioned them. What was it you gave her for her headaches?"

Pearl's eyes flashed momentarily, then looked away. "I made her a paste from this plant's root. It is called awa. I mashed the awa root with water and strained it so she could drink the liquid. Easier than chewing the root. But Laura hardly gave it a chance. She complained it was too bitter."

Jenna recalled what Laura's mood had been. She felt sympathy for Pearl who had obviously been trying to help.

"It must be very difficult for you," Jenna commented. "Losing two members of your family so close together. Especially your only son."

"And you have lost your dearest friend. Death does not choose fairly."

It seemed a curious comment and Jenna once more felt the mask of Pearl's expression.

The garden tour continued, but Pearl seemed to have lost her initial enthusiasm. She walked faster, commenting only sporadically on what they saw. Jenna, sensing the woman's pain and withdrawal, announced it was time to go.

"I'd like to drive back before it gets too dark."

"Well, you've seen everything but the garden shed anyway," Pearl said with a gesture towards a small hut at the end of the path that had wound through the entire garden.

"I didn't realize you had such a large garden," Jenna said. "This must be about an acre."

Pearl nodded as she walked Jenna to her car. "Just a little over. It keeps me busy."

"Thank you for the tour. And thanks to your mother again for telling me her stories."

"Drive safely. Don't refuse a ride to an old woman."

A chill swept down Jenna's spine. It was the same thing Tutu had said just an hour ago.

With that warning ringing in her ears, Jenna backed her rented car out onto the road and headed back to her hotel.

Chapter Thirteen

Jenna's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel tightened with every curve in the road. The spindly gray ohia trees along the sides of the road had not seemed so leering or so menacing before, not even when she saw them as only skeletal remains on Devastation Trail. Or was that because Matt was with her then?

Now even the trees' crimson ohia blossoms--seen only sporadically when her car's headlights happened to wash over them--looked like splashes of blood. Like some of the wildly erratic strokes in Matt's volcano painting.

Stop it, Jenna. Get your mind off that crazy painting. Get your mind off of Matt Kraemer, period.

She rolled the window down, breathing in the still night air, noticing the only sounds she heard were that of the car's motor and the slight breeze it left in its wake.

The air held the vague sulfuric aroma she remembered from the other day.

When had the evening turned so dark, so threatening? She was sure she had tons of daylight left for the long, winding drive from Tutu and Pearl's house back to her hotel. But darkness had descended like a black velvet cape to contain her in this cramped mechanical prison. Why had she gotten such a little car? Why a black one?

She drove for over an hour before suspecting something was really wrong. Something dangerously forboding. She realized it had been that long since she'd seen another car. Surely the road wasn't normally that deserted. It made her wonder, was she on the right road or had she taken a wrong turn somewhere back there? Second by second, her terror rose, slowly at first, then quick as a slide downhill.

There was no doubt about it--she was lost. How did other people find their way around the volcanoes area? All these roads looked alike to her. Street signs were sporadic--the last one had read, "Volcano," which was no help. What did that mean out here in a place called volcano? Someone's idea of a joke? Most of the time, the signs were nonexistent, which was just as bad.

Except for the way her headlights split the dark road ahead, making the lines down the center gleam like too-white teeth, everything was black and mottled shades of gray.

She'd checked and double-checked the journey on her map. And she'd found Tutu's house without a problem. So getting back to the hotel was just that route in reverse.

Jenna swallowed past the lump of panic that had risen in her throat, and reminded herself that she was not easily flustered behind the wheel. She had driven in the tangle of busy San Francisco and Portland streets for years without getting lost. Finding her way around an island that never heard of freeways wasn't about to get the better of her.

Keeping one hand on the wheel she dug into the handbag she'd left on the passenger seat.

Where was that map? She remembered tucking it into her purse when she arrived at the house. But no amount of digging would produce the map.

She pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. Switching on the car's interior light, she dumped the contents of her purse onto the seat beside her.

Wallet, hairbrush, tissues, makeup, notebook, pen, cassette recorder. But no map. How could she have lost it? It must have fallen out of her purse while she was at the house, maybe when she'd gathered her things after listening to Tutu's stories. That's what was making her so nervous. Tutu's spooky stories. She was letting them get to her.

Jenna figured she had two options, provided she ignored the third one that said to stay right where she was and burst into tears. Hysteria was not her style and would get her nowhere.

She could either continue driving in the direction she was heading or she could pull a u-turn and go back the other way. Retracing her tracks might point out where she'd gone wrong. Or she might find a house where she could stop and ask directions.

She flicked off the overhead light and peered into the darkness ahead of her. Beyond the front end of the car and the pavement illuminated by her headlights, the road melted into infinite darkness.

She rolled down the car window for some fresh air. A sound like an owl's cry split the silence, and she noticed the smell of sulfur had grown stronger. What could that mean? she wondered, rolling the window back up.

Jenna turned the key in the ignition, annoyed at the trembling in her hand. She wasn't going to let this phase her. Beneath her fingers, the car spluttered to life. Then died.

She tried again. Another splutter, a click, and no more. Chilled fingers of fear ran through her scalp and down through the rest of her body.

Oh, God. What else was going to happen to her on this trip? How many others had come to Hawaii and found a hellish nightmare instead of paradise?

She sank back against the seat. Okay, she didn't know much about cars besides how to drive one but she knew a few things. Like the fact that she still had head and dashboard lights meant it wasn't a dead battery. She had sufficient gas and oil and nothing was over-heated.

Reviewing all this information got her exactly nowhere. She was still stuck in a disabled car on unfamiliar turf with no sign of a way out. She knew better than to think getting out and looking under the hood would help. She'd be crazy to get out and walk, she knew that much too. Her only sane alternative seemed to sit tight and wait for another car to come by. However long that would take, she thought, remembering she hadn't seen another car since shortly after leaving the house.

It didn't help that she had just listened to a bunch of spooky stories about gods and goddesses and ghosts that walked in the night. It didn't help that no one knew where she'd gone and no one was expecting her anywhere. There was nobody who would come looking for her.

Matt.

If only she'd made this trip earlier, when Matt was still around to help her.

Fat lot of good that thought did her now.

After the gruesomely horrifying painting Jenna had seen she didn't want him near her anyway. What a fool she had been, falling for the charms of the exact kind of man she ought to stay away from. She had no excuse. She knew better. He could be dangerous, causing more damage than just a broken heart.

Get a hold of yourself, Jenna. Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help either. She'd turn the key again, one more time just for the hell of it. Couldn't hurt. At least it was something to do.

To her total amazement, the engine coughed once, then came beautifully to life. A virtual resurrection. Thanking her lucky stars and anyone else responsible, she pushed the car into drive and eased back onto the highway.

As elated as she was to have the car running again there was still the inescapable fact she was lost. That alone was enough to scare her, but no way was she prepared for the terrifying sight that greeted her on the other side of the next hairpin curve.

A figure up ahead. An old woman! Pele! This had to be her overactive imagination.

She blinked several times, even shook her head to help clear it, but the image remained the same. Was this going to be a recreation of her dream? No, then Matt would be there too.

But, wait. Matt was there! Now Jenna knew she was losing her mind. Tutu's tales had been the final stress to pushing her fear level over the top. Now she was seeing things that couldn't possibly, couldn't rationally be there.

The only thing she could think of to do was to step on the gas and get the hell away from there. It had to be her imagination playing tricks with her, it had to be. She was exhausted, that part didn't help. This was a delayed grief reaction to Laura's death. There were all kinds of explanations she could find as to why this was happening.

Jenna stepped on the gas and kept driving. Eventually she felt like she was far enough away from the figures she'd imagined seeing. Yes, she'd imagined them, a little voice in her brain kept repeating the word, drumming it in like a continuous beat.

She'd keep driving as long as she could. Sooner or later she'd either find something or run out of gas. Even if she did she'd be no worse off than she'd been a few minutes ago.

She drove several miles before she realized she was holding her breath, let it out in a rush and smiled in the darkness of her lonely cocoon.

She kept her eyes focussed straight ahead, determined to see whatever there was to see early on.

Finally, when she was beginning to think she'd hit the other side of the island soon, she saw lights glimmering in the distance. A row of lights, like torches. The words of Tutu's story echoed from the recesses of her mind. The Marchers of the Night.

Jenna could see the torches clearly now, glimmering brightly in a long row, their fiery tongues reaching out in the cold night air. The Marchers of the Night.

Tutu's warning sent icy needles into Jenna's neck and back. She'd said if a living person should meet these marchers from the dead, he must get out of the way quickly or be killed. He must remove his clothes and prostrate himself. A mere mortal was not allowed to look on a sacred ceremony.

What if you're in a car? The question bubbled like hysteria in Jenna's throat. And still she drove closer and closer.

The torches glowed a brilliant red against the black of the night sky.

Closer and closer.

Maybe she should just pull over and wait for them to pass.

She was being ridiculous. The story of the Night Marchers was just a legend. A ghost story handed down through the generations.

It was no different from the ghost stories she'd listened to around the campfire on Girl Scout over nighters. They'd listened, been appropriately frightened, then went to sleep. Nothing had ever happened. No ghosts had ever come.

Jenna kept driving, closer to the torches that now seemed just over the next hill. She'd be there any minute, passing them by.

What she saw in the next minute made her feel like an absolute idiot. They were torches. A whole row of them like she'd imagined. But they weren't ghostly Night Marchers at all.

They were the torches marking the entry way to the Volcano Villages Resort. Now she knew she was on the wrong road. She hadn't passed the resort before. But it was a place she could stop and ask directions. Provided she didn't turn off the car's engine. She was taking no chances of it not starting up again.

Within minutes she was on her way again, going back in the opposite direction. How she'd ever gotten so lost would have to remain a mystery.

Like so many other mysteries she'd found in Hawaii. By now she should be ready to face almost anything.

She picked up speed and drove for several more miles, then reasoned she could slow down about now.

That was when she noticed the headlights in her rear view mirror. Someone was behind her. She was being followed.

Chapter Fourteen

Jenna floored the gas pedal and raced forward. The driver of the other car did the same. The distance between them did not change.

Who could be following her? Had he passed the old woman standing at the side of the road? Correction. The old woman she thought she'd seen. Looking in her rear view mirror as she'd passed, Jenna had not seen anyone. No old woman, nothing but the glare of two headlights in the distance. Headlights that had grown increasingly large and threatening the closer they came.

She tried to reassure herself it was just some reckless kids, out for a little fun on a deserted highway. Maybe she'd been stupid to speed up. The other driver must have thought she wanted to race. The best thing to do was to slow down, let the other car overtake her and move on its way.

She eased her foot off the gas, her eyes still trained on the rear view mirror. It was working. The other car slowed too, moved left, then speeded up again to pass.

But suddenly, barely giving Jenna time to react, the car pulled across the road in front of her and stopped, totally blocking the narrow road. She slammed on the brakes and glared at the car in her path. It was a black Blazer. Matt.

Forgetting her earlier resolve to leave the engine running at all costs, she flicked the key to kill the engine, but left the headlights burning. For a second she was relieved to see someone she knew, someone who wasn't a mysterious old woman of legend or a ghostly marcher of the night, then horrified at the memory of the haunting painting she'd found Matt working on. The painting that depicted her friend's death and warned Jenna to stay clear of Matthew Kraemer no matter what it cost her heart. But there was no way to avoid him now on this dark road that had gotten her nowhere but afraid.

She stayed where she was, immobile save for the rapid pounding of her heart, watching him jump from his car and race to her door. It was anger mingled with pure terror that finally made her react, rolling down the car window with a series of jerky twists on the handle.

"What's the matter with you?" she half shouted at him. "You nearly scared me to death. What on earth did you think you were doing chasing after me like that?"

His eyes blazed with concern. "Wasn't it obvious? Trying to catch up with you. Why didn't you stop in the first place? Don't you realize these roads are dangerous?"

"Oh, sure. I'm going to stop my car for a stranger in the dark of night on a deserted road. When I didn't even really know where I was," she added for emphasis. "How did you know I'd be out here anyway?"

"Tony told me you were out here visiting Tutu Hanoa. I didn't want you to go there by yourself. Why'd you run out on me like that this morning? I was worried about you."

Jenna's mind raced. Didn't he know why? Wasn't it obvious to him that his weird abstract painting had scared her half to death? Could it be possible he didn't know she'd gone in the back room? Didn't he realize she'd seen the painting? If that might be the case, she'd be better off not telling him why she'd left. At least not until she was somewhere other than alone with him on a deserted highway in the dark of night.

"I left because...because I was upset about Laura again. I had a kind of a panic attack and just needed to go off by myself and let my head clear."

Matt ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. "You could have let me know, Jen. Besides that I wanted to talk to you. About last night."

Jenna felt the flush of color creeping up into her face. Making love with Matt Kraemer was the last thing she wanted to discuss right now. She seized on something else he'd just said.

"Why didn't you want me talking to Tutu by myself? I'm a big girl, you know."

"Is that why you high-tailed it along the highway looking half scared out of your skin? You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

She thought of the row of perfectly innocent torches and the figure of the old woman that had undoubtedly been a figment of her over-stimulated imagination. Suddenly she felt very foolish. "I thought I did for a minute there. Guess I let Tutu's stories let my imagination run. She's a pretty effective story-teller."

Matt put his hand on her shoulder, his light touch making her skin tingle with a combination of fear and desire.

"Why don't you follow me back, Jen? I think we have a few things to talk about."

Eager to move forward and get away from these confusing volcano roads with its collection of legendary spirits, Jenna turned the key in the ignition and was relieved to hear the engine splutter to life. It wouldn't hurt to follow Matt back to Hilo now. She knew the way from here and would be aware if he tried to lead her off course. Not that she thought he would. He'd expressed genuine concern.

For now all she wanted to do was get back to her hotel. She knew she'd have to talk to him then but suddenly he didn't seem so threatening anymore.

* * *

Matt drove slowly, one eye constantly trained on his rear view mirror, making sure Jenna was keeping up with him. Not that he didn't trust her to follow him, but with everything that was going on he wanted to be sure she was safe.

His throat still felt dry and he recalled the way his heart had hammered in his chest when he'd picked up his mail at the radio station and found the note. He still hadn't figured out who knew to deliver it to him there but its message was clear enough:

JENNA WILL BELONG TO PELE SOON

He knew he'd had to find Jenna and make sure she was safe. Make sure he kept the prediction from being fulfilled.

Tony had told him she was on her way to talk with Tutu again. Why did Jenna want to go out there all by herself? There was something very wrong out at that secluded volcano house where Pearl and Tutu lived and he wasn't about to let Jenna get caught up in it the way Laura had.

* * *

As if her emotions weren't already in enough turmoil, Jenna's return to her hotel was greeted by a cryptic message to call a Detective Ushijima at the Hilo Police Station.

She'd told Matt she was going to her room to freshen up, and they agreed to meet back in the lobby in a couple of hours.

"There's been a break in your friend's case, Ms. Morley," Detective Ushijima reported once she'd returned his call.

"My friend's case?" she repeated dumbly. "What is it?"

"I received the coroner's report this afternoon. The autopsy revealed Mrs. Stevens' death was caused by a skin-absorbing poison."

"Poison." The word came out in a whisper, and Jenna was sure she tasted something bitter on her tongue.

"We were able to trace the poison, and made an arrest earlier this evening."

"An arrest? Who--?"

"Tony Pereira."

Jenna was shocked. "Tony! But that can't be. Tony was in love with Laura. I can't believe he would have done anything to harm her."

"Well, so far he denies the charges. But we had sufficient evidence to make the arrest."

"What evidence?"

"The poison was found in your friend's bottle of hair conditioner. A special formula Mr. Pereira admits to mixing up himself. I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before he confesses to adding the poison."

"I can't believe it," she said again to the empty room once she hung up, realizing how much she meant it. She'd grown to like Tony a lot in just a few days. Though definitely the eccentric, he seemed a gentle, sensitive man incapable of harming anyone. And he loved Laura deeply. He wouldn't have turned against her, Jenna was sure of it.

Poison. A skin-absorbing, slow-acting poison was a coldly deliberate, calculating way of committing a murder. It didn't seem at all like Tony. More like...

Who?

The phone rang and Jenna automatically picked it up and said hello.

A shrill voice greeted her. "Miss Morley, I'm calling you from down at the police station. I want you to come down here and talk to me. You have to do something to help my son."

Beatrice Pereira. Now there was someone cold and calculating, Jenna thought. She'd be capable of cold-blooded murder. Jenna struggled to keep her voice calm.

"I don't understand what you expect me to do, Bea. How can I help Tony?"

"It's Laura's fault my Anthony is locked up in the first place," she shrieked. "The way she teased him and played with his emotions. Never minding his delicate, injured feelings."

The woman was irrational. The best thing to do was to get her off the phone.

"Bea, why don't you calm down and go home for right now? I've had a rough night but I'll see if Detective Ushijima will let me visit Tony later on. It's the best I can do for right now."

To Jenna's surprise, Bea let her go without so much as another whimper.

Jenna took a quick shower, towel-dried her hair and lay down for a nap. It took a full concentration of body-relaxing methods to clear her mind and allow her body to drift with it into a restful place that wasn't filled with poison and ghostly figures-- and, of course, Matt.

* * *

Matt, who usually had no trouble catching quick naps whenever and wherever he could, tossed and turned in his bed. Something didn't sit right about Tony Pereira's arrest, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

The words of the coroner's report blazed across his mind like a movie screen. Skin-absorbing poison introduced by hair conditioner. Poison originating from a plant source. Oleander. One of the deadliest poisons around.

Sure, Matt could see why the immediate suspicion would fall on the source of the hair product and he was well aware of Tony's reputation as a chemist of hair care, but still, it didn't mean Tony was the only one with means and motive. In fact, Matt couldn't come up with a solid motive for Tony to have killed Laura. He knew Tony was in love with her and there was always the old spurned lover theory, but as far as Matt ever saw, Laura had seemed almost equally fond of Tony.

As for means, Tony's name would be at the top of the list, but what about the others? Beatrice Pereira, being a pharmacist, would know about poisons. Her motive was obvious. Keep Laura from getting her hooks into Bea's precious son.

Plant-derived poisons would put Pearl Stevens on the suspect list too. Nobody on the island knew more about plants than she did, especially native Hawaiian plants. A lot of them were poisonous too, according to Detective Ushijima.

Pearl always played it pretty cool but it was anybody's guess how she really felt about the daughter-in-law her son had sprung on them all of a sudden. Her son who had died in a mysterious accident. Could she believe Laura in some way responsible for his death?

Then there was Iolani Hanoa. Everybody called her Tutu but she didn't really behave like anyone's sweet old grandma. Always full of superstitions and warnings. He'd have to stretch his imagination pretty far to picture her baking cookies and telling bedtime stories. Her stories would produce nightmares rather than sweet dreams. Look how her stories had affected Jenna.

While the suspects continued to weave their paths in and out of his mind, one person he tried to keep in the back kept surfacing. Jenna. Oh, not so much as a suspect as an interesting desirable woman. The feel of her in his arms, her floral scent in his nostrils, her taste on his lips.

They had to talk, get some things settled between them. He had a pretty good idea why she'd run out of the station the way she did. She must have seen the painting. And now he was going to have to find some way of explaining about that. Just what he needed, another complication.

What about the new resolve he'd made that morning? The resolve to let it go no farther. That one night, no matter how pleasant it had been, was a mistake. He would have to keep her at arm's length for the rest of the time she spent in the islands. Three more days.

He'd promised to help her with her video project. But would she continue with it now after what had happened to Laura? He needed to ask. He wanted to ask her a lot of things, like how she felt about him. But that was foolish. Even if she cared for him there was no future for them. Not an easy one, anyway. Before he met with her again he'd better be sure that thought was the one he kept right up front.

* * *

Her nerves still on edge, even after her nap, Jenna waited alone in the tiny room at the Hilo Police Station. It was sparsely furnished with a wooden table and two straight-backed chairs.

Detective Ushijima had initially refused her request to visit Tony, until she informed him of her position as a certified hypnotherapist who'd been working with him on his accident-induced memory loss.

"You have to understand, your request is very unusual, Ms. Morley," he had told her. "You're not his attorney nor are you his physician. You're not family, either. We normally make only those allowances."

"Yes, I understand that, sir. But helping Mr. Pereira to learn what his memory is currently blocking could provide valuable new evidence, pertinent to the case. I think it would help him to see me and have a chance to talk about what he's revealed so far."

The detective studied her for a moment, and Jenna could sense him weighing her words carefully, maybe with a bit of suspicion thrown in. She guessed that was the normal way with police. Still, she held firm, waiting for him to decide, fully believing she could help Tony.

But now, as she waited for him in the airless humidity of the little room, she wondered whether she'd be any help to him at all. She didn't know anything about murder. Until the phone call informing her Laura had been poisoned, she'd believed her friend's death was caused by whatever had gone wrong in her brain to cause those bad headaches.

The door opened and Tony walked in, making his way slowly to the table with the help of a simple cane. A police official in brown uniform, wearing a badge, followed behind, waiting for Tony to be seated. "You have fifteen minutes," he warned, then went out again, shutting the door behind him. Jenna had no doubt he would stand on the other side of the door for the duration of their meeting.

Jenna was shocked by Tony's appearance. Dark circles stood out below puffed eyes that seemed devoid of all emotion. His mouth drooped and his jaws appeared strangely boneless. She looked at the cane he'd leaned against the table, mud brown wood with a plain rubber top that looked old and worn. So different from the hand carved tiki she'd admired at his shop.

"They took my fancy ones away," he commented, reading her mind. "I believe they call this style 'standard criminal issue.'"

His attempt at wry humor only made Jenna feel worse. She reached across the table and took his hand.

"How are you doing, Tony?" The question sounded trite to her ears and she wondered what kind of answer she expected.

"They finally got my mother to go home," he said instead. "That's the good news."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes. Believe in me, Jenna. I didn't do it. I never would have hurt Laura."

Looking into his eyes, she believed him. This was a man who'd been in love with Laura, whose arms had held her while they both cried over their loved one's death. She didn't believe he could have done that while keeping a murderous secret.

But what kind of judge of character was she? a little voice in the back of her mind nagged. It hadn't taken her long to fall for Matt Kraemer's charms.

"I didn't do it," Tony said again.

"I do believe you, Tony. Listen, is your mother arranging to get you out of here? Have they set your bail?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I think they feel like they have too much evidence against me right now."

"The conditioner? How do you suppose the poison got in there?"

"Beats me. I turned over to them a bigger bottle of the same stuff I still had at the shop. But they analyzed it and it was clean. They said of course I'd left the poison out of that one on purpose. They treat me like I'm some kind of an idiot."

"I'm sure they probably do that with everyone they arrest. I imagine their goal is to trip the person up so he says something that incriminates him."

"I see you've watched your fair share of cop shows." There was no amusement in his flat voice. "Listen, Jenna, there is something you can do for me."

She squeezed his hand in friendly encouragement. "Sure, Tony. If I can."

"I want you to take me through another session. Try the hypnosis again. Maybe if I can remember what happened at the accident, it'll somehow tie in to what happened to Laura."

His eyes looked so hopeful, his voice so pleading, a lump formed in Jenna's throat. She nodded. "Okay. If they give us permission. I'll go talk to Detective Ushijima right now."

She gave him a quick hug before leaving. The police deputy opened the door just as she reached it. Big brother was watching in this place.

She was on her way back to the front office to track down the detective when a familiar voice caught her ear. Matt. She stopped in the corridor, shamelessly trying to eavesdrop.

Chapter Fifteen

"Poisoning..."

"...autopsy showed..."

"...suspected of..."

The words, mere bits of sentences, Jenna heard from the hallway were not enough. All she knew for certain was that one of the voices belonged to Matt Kraemer. Why was he here at the police station? Was he a suspect too, brought in for questioning? Had someone discovered his painting she had interpreted as the murder scene?

The voices stopped and Jenna strained to hear anything else. She'd better get away from the hall before someone caught her eavesdropping. Or before she ran into Matt.

She still needed to find Detective Ushijima to ask permission for a hypnotherapy session with Tony.

The detective was surprisingly congenial to the idea.

"Anything that might help," he said, effectively pushing aside her notion of small-town cops being closed-minded to newer methods. His only condition was that the session be held within earshot of a police official.

"I'll have an officer posted on the other side of a two-way mirror."

"But that isn't how I work," Jenna protested. "I feel very strongly about client confidentiality. My clients trust me."

"It's how you'll work if you want to have the session at all." His tone let her know he meant it. Play his way or not at all.

Jenna had no choice but to give in. She wanted to help Tony and she'd have to go along with Detective Ushijima's orders. She arranged to return the next morning for the session.

She was on her way out the front door when she ran into Matt.

"We need to talk," he announced.

"No kidding." She knew her expression was sour but she couldn't help it. What was this guy's involvement in everything? Why did he keep showing up everywhere she went?

He took her firmly by the elbow and led her across the street to a small city park, surprisingly well-lit for this time of night. They sat on a bench in front of a pond with white and pink water lilies, now shut into mere buds, floating across its glassy surface.

"What were you doing in there?" They spoke in unison, and might even have laughed at that if there had not been so much raw tension hanging in the air between them.

"You first," Matt ordered, setting his mouth in a determined line. Jenna stared at that mouth, suddenly finding it hard to remember what she wanted to learn, distracted by the memory of those lips on her own.

"Well?" He was waiting, his hand still on Jenna's arm. How did he expect her to think if he was going to keep touching her?

"I was there to see Tony." Suddenly she felt defiant, shook her arm free and squared back her shoulders. "He's still my client after all."

"Even though he's under arrest for murdering your best friend?"

"I don't believe for one minute that he killed Laura. What's your excuse for being here? Were you brought in for questioning too?"

She saw what seemed a painful glint in his eyes. Was she all wrong about him? But what about that painting?

Jenna knew he wasn't going to answer her questions, just as he'd managed to avoid them before. Right from the start he'd been a big mystery man. What was he hiding behind those gorgeous brown eyes?

"What was your relationship with Laura?" She finally asked what she should have asked in the first place. On the first day.

He blinked and jerked his head up, looking surprised. "We were friends, that's all. And business associates too since she carried my paintings in her gallery."

"I want to talk about your paintings too. But first I have to know. Were you and Laura lovers?"

"Lovers? Of course not. What made you think we were?"

Jenna felt confused, fumbled for the right words. "You seemed so close to her. And you were always showing up wherever we were. Why would you want to be around a woman so much if there wasn't something between you?"

"Is that what you thought? You believed Laura and I were lovers even after you and I made love?"

"That was a mistake," she said flatly. "A grief reaction, that's all."

He raised an eyebrow, drew his hand slowly down the side of her face. To Jenna, it was sweet torture. She wondered if he knew how badly she wanted to nuzzle her face into that hand. Kiss the tips of his fingers the way she had that night.

"It sure didn't feel like a mistake," he said.

Matt's eyes shifted before he went on. "It's just that Laura asked me to help with your project. She did me a favor putting my artwork in her gallery. She asked me to help entertain you too. What can I say, she had a way of handling men. She was a tough lady to refuse." Thank God he had gotten away from the dangerous diversion their conversation had taken. But he was covering up something. Jenna was sure of it.

"Laura wasn't exactly a lot of fun to be around the last few days. Always so moody and irrational. I thought only a lover or family would stick by someone behaving like that."

"And we didn't know at the time she was being poisoned. You and Laura weren't very close, were you?"

Jenna felt the familiar prickle running under her scalp and along the back of her neck.

"Once we were, when we were just kids. But, no, not lately."

"What happened?"

Jenna sighed, feeling the oppressive weight of the burden she'd carried around since she got here.

"Laura came over and stayed with me a lot after my father left, while my mom worked nights. Even back then, Laura had her troubling demons.

"She had nightmares sometimes and would wake up screaming."

Jenna smiled at a memory. "I made up the Night Fairy, a safe person I let her believe was watching over us."

"Like a guardian angel," Matt put in.

"Yes. The nightmares stopped after awhile, and things started getting better in other ways too. Laura and I weren't just two people who had been through a hard time. We were best friends too. Until five years ago." Jenna paused, eyeing Matt, sure that he already knew the reason.

"When she and Dennis ran off here together," he supplied.

"I thought you must have known. You didn't have to pretend you didn't to spare my feelings."

"Sorry. I guess tact isn't my strong suit. But the two of you seemed to have made amends."

"More or less. I was determined not to for years. She had hurt me in a serious way. Hurt that wasn't going to go away with a word or two of apology. It was difficult, the way she was lately. I don't think anyone could have gotten close to her. I guess Tony got the closest."

"I don't think Tony killed her either."

"But then who?" Jenna asked. "You seem to know everyone here pretty well. Bea, Pearl, Tutu."

"Hah. No one really knows Tutu. But I haven't got a clue."

Once again, she knew he was lying. Was he trying to cover up for someone, holding back what he knew?

Matt took her hand, held it firmly in the warmth of his own.

"Why'd you run out of the station like that?"

Then he didn't know she'd seen the painting. If he did he'd surely know why she'd left.

"I decided it was silly to bother you at work like that." Good grief, Jenna. What a lame excuse.

"But why were you there in the first place?"

"Oh, just taking you up on your offer to show me around the radio station." And if he believed that she might also try to sell him some property along the San Andreas Fault.

"You could have said goodbye. Common courtesy and all."

She flushed. He was right, It had been rude the way she left. But she was frightened and the only thing she could think of was to run away.

"I guess Hawaii isn't having its magical effect on me," she offered, knowing it was a change of subject, knowing it was as lame as her excuse about why she was at the station.

Matt studied her for a minute. Jenna noticed for the first time that he looked tired. So he wasn't indestructible. The do-everything, know-everything Matt Kraemer had finally reached the point where shadows of fatigue ringed his eyes, and his jaw looked tired and tense. Tense enough to make him snap? Tense enough to take it out on Laura?

Jenna stood up and dusted off her skirt.

"Listen, Matt, I really need to get back to the hotel and gather my things for Tony's session. I got a replacement rental car after I told them how the other one died on me last night."

He started to say something but stopped, merely nodding and watching her walk away.

* * *

Jenna was back at the police station the next morning. Her tote bag contained her cassette player with its tape of ocean waves, and the scented candle. She had quickly dismissed the idea of trying to get Tony's lava lamp from his shop. She could just imagine lugging that thing around. She'd have him focus on the candle flame this time. Hopefully it would work just as well.

The desk sergeant inspected the contents of the tote bag.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"My cassette recorder. I play tapes to evoke the right mood."

He pressed the "on" button, listened, then raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Ocean waves," she explained. "Since the experience missing from Tony's memory happened at the beach, I use it to help."

"Hmph," was all he said before pulling out the ylang ylang candle, raising it for a sniff, wrinkling his nose at what he found.

"The candle is scented with a fragrance known to encourage a relaxed state."

He stuffed the cassette player and candle back in her tote back. "I don't go much on this psychic stuff."

"Hypnotherapy isn't psychic," she started, then shrugged her shoulders. Why bother? It was clear he thought she was some kind of a nut and he wasn't going to be anymore enlightened with a two-minute explanation. "Can I go in there now?" she asked instead.

He asked her to leave her purse at the counter. She was escorted to a different room from where she'd seen Tony the day before, and quickly set up her things.

Tony entered the room wearing a hopeful expression, the ever-present police guard right behind. The guard set another recorder down between them as soon as they'd exchanged greetings. "I'll leave as soon as I start this thing going," he explained, giving her the message to begin.

The police recorder was just one more irritation. It was bad enough she'd been unable to talk Detective Ushijima out of using the room with the two-way mirror but did they have to set the recorder in this room? Why didn't they do that from the other side too?

The guard looked at her, waiting for a cue. Jenna was annoyed but she got the idea. This was police business now. No preliminary chit chat with the prisoner. She reached over and squeezed Tony's hand, not caring if it wasn't exactly professional behavior. He looked worse than he had yesterday.

"Are you ready?"

At Tony's nod, she lit the candle and clicked on the cassette of ocean waves, then nodded to the guard to set his own machine. She began the minute he closed the door.

She took him through the process of relaxation, then drew his mind back to the scene of the accident.

"You're at the beach with your friend Dennis. Way out on one of the rocks. The ocean waves are lapping at your feet. The breeze is ruffling through your hair. You can smell the salty ocean breeze, taste it on your tongue."

"The catch is good," Tony announced. "Getting tired--ocean too rough--but Dennis wants to stay. Insists he wants more."

"Is anyone else there Tony? Look around, out toward the shore. Do you see anyone?"

He squinted, shaking his head, his lips drawn down in a frown. "No. Nobody..." He stopped, breathing faster.

"Slow down, Tony. Deep, steady breaths. Breathing in, breathing out."

She asked again when she sensed him breathing back in trance. "Do you see anyone, Tony? Is someone on the shore?"

"Yes, yes, I see her."

"Who is it? Look out along the shore. Who is out there?"

"Laura. Laura's coming out here. No, Laura, stay back. Rough waters. The sea is too angry. Dennis says they'll wait for us."

They'll? More than one person out there. Someone was with Laura.

"Who else is there, Tony? Who's with Laura? Can you see who it is?"

Again he shook his head. "Arguing, they're yelling at each other. Can't hear."

"Listen to the sound of the waves, Tony. Coming in, coming out. Breathe with the waves, breathe softly and listen to the waves. Now try to listen. You can hear their raised voices. They're yelling over the sound of the waves."

"She wants out. Laura says she wants to quit. She'll have to find somebody else. Won't do it no more."

"Do what, Tony? What won't Laura do?"

"Make the jewelry. No more secrets. Police getting too close. Catch the smugglers."

Smugglers. Jenna's stomach caught a high dive. Laura had been involved. Did that mean she'd killed Dennis too? Had he discovered she was in on the smuggling and threatened to turn her in?

"Who are the jewel smugglers, Tony? Who do you see there with Laura?"

"She hit her. No! Don't hit Laura."

She. He had said "she" hit her.

"Who hit Laura? Tell me who's hurting Laura."

He jerked his head from side to side, gripping the table with both hands. "No. No. I can't see."

"I think you can see. Try really hard, Tony. You can see."

"I can't. The sun is too bright."

He held a hand up as if to shield his face from the glare and his voice had taken on the whine of a petulant child. His breathing became loud and rapid. He did know who was there with Laura. But his mind was blocking it. For some reason he was unable to break through the barrier his defenses had put up.

"Relax, Tony, relax. Breathing in, breathing out. Hear the ocean waves."

His breathing slowed, his hands relaxed on the table in front of him.

"You're still with Dennis. You're both safe on the rocks. Nothing is wrong. Now look out to the shore again."

"Laura."

"Yes, Laura's there and someone is with her. The sun is very bright and it's hard to see. But suddenly a cloud passes over and cuts the glare for a second. You can see who else is there. Who struck Laura. Tell me who it is, Tony. Now, while you can see clearly."

His face crumpled into an expression of puzzlement, then total disbelief. "Ma? Ma, don't hit Laura. Why did you do that, Ma? Don't you know I love her? Run, Laura, run!"

Tony's mother. Bea had been out there at the time of Tony's accident. That was why he'd blocked it.

"Did Laura run away, Tony? Is Laura safe from your mother?"

"Yes, yes, she ran."

"Good, then Laura's safe. Where's your mother now? Did she go after her?"

"No. Dennis sees her. He's yelling. She's coming out through the water. 'Ma,' I tell her. 'Stay out there. We'll come to you.' But she won't listen. She wouldn't listen."

"She's still coming, wading in the water. Now where's Dennis? Is he still with you?"

"No. He went out to her. Out to the other rock. They're yelling. 'I'm going to tell, Bea. Tell the police about the smuggling. Tell them you killed your husband too.' That's what he told her. She's angry, so angry. Mother, don't be. Don't hit Dennis. He's my friend. No! Dennis, watch out. Mother, don't."

He was growing more and more agitated. Jenna thought she should bring him out of the trance but they were so close. So close to learning the truth.

"Mother, don't," Tony repeated loudly.

"What did she do, Tony?"

"She hit him with the driftwood. He's still alive. But then..."

His eyes widened. A look of alarm crossed his face, then it crumpled, tears spilling suddenly down his cheeks. A harsh anguished sob was torn from his throat and Jenna knew she had taken him far enough. Rapidly, she counted him back.

"Tony, are you all right?"

He blinked, rubbing his eyes with his balled up fists, then stared at her, his expression a mixture of pain and wonder.

"I remember what happened. She hit him with the driftwood and he fell in the pool. She was holding his face down in the water and I was rushing to help him when I fell. I knew then she killed my father. She left me there."

"And then you blacked out and she left you there. She finished drowning Dennis and then she left you."

"My mother left me there."

Tony cradled his head in his arms and wept. Jenna switched off her cassette, and blew out the candle.

Suddenly the door swung open and she jerked herself up in the chair. Her mouth dropped open when Matt Kraemer walked in.

"Good work, Jenna. We've just put out an APB on Bea Pereira."

Chapter Sixteen

He was a cop! A cop undercover! It was all just an act. He'd been only pretending. Supposed disc jockey and island surf bum Matthew Kraemer was working as a cop all along.

Jenna glared at him, speechless. What else had he pretended about this past week? His attraction to her? Was his lovemaking all part of the job too?

"You lied to me about everything," she accused, pushing back her chair and standing up.

The station guard came into the room and put a hand on Tony's arm. "Wait," Jenna went to Tony's side. "Are you going to be all right?" His face was still wet with tears and she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to him.

He looked at her. "I guess I should thank you for helping me remember, but maybe I was better off..."

She nodded. "I know. Tony, I'm so sorry."

The guard escorted Tony out and, looking at Matt for approval, quietly closed the door.

Matt held up his hands. "Listen, Jenna. Before you say anything, just listen." He pulled out the chair Tony had just vacated and indicated she should sit opposite.

"I haven't got the time to make this explanation overly long but here it goes. I was sent here undercover after Dennis was killed. That's why I worked at the same radio station, to see if there was any connection there. I've also been looking into the other deaths--the Big Island tourists in the volcanoes areas."

Jenna couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Was seducing me part of your cover?"

His head jerked back as if he'd been slapped. "That was nothing to do with my job. I thought you would have known that." Now he was the one glaring daggers at her.

"Don't you realize I'm on your side? I'm trying to find out who killed Laura and all the others."

"But if you were on the job all along, why didn't you try to help her? Why didn't you save my friend?"

Matt shook his head, looking defeated." That's where I messed up. I had hoped I could keep anything from happening to her. But her killer was always a step ahead of me. This is the first breakthrough we've had."

She blinked, not understanding. Then it came to her. "You mean what Tony said about his mother? You think Bea is the one who killed Laura?"

"We're not sure yet but we're about to find out. She's been under surveillance for awhile. No chance she'll avoid being brought in." Matt stood, placed both palms flat on the table and leaned toward Jenna.

"We have to talk. About this case and everything else. Including us."

Jenna's breath caught in her throat. Had he ever thought there could be an "us?" He looked sincere. The least she could do was hear him out.

"Okay, I'm going back to my hotel. Call me there when you get through here."

Matt looked relieved. "Okay, I will. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

* * *

Matt kept the Blazer at a steady eighty miles per hour. He had to make it out to Pearl and Tutu's place before Jenna did. Why hadn't she waited for him at the hotel like he'd asked her to? He had to get there in time. A fist in the middle of his gut nagged at him at the thought of Jenna being added as one more victim on the killer's list. One more sacrifice to Pele.

That crazy old woman. He should have thought of her earlier. The signs were there. He just hadn't seen them. He'd let himself get sidetracked with the jewel- smuggling thing. He'd been sure Laura's death was related to that. Who'd have thought that was about Madame Pele.

To think Bea knew who the killer was all along. She had known Laura was the next victim too and hadn't said a word. Of course she wanted Laura out of the way. Out of the way from between her and her precious son.

But now that Bea had been brought in on murder charges of her own, she was telling all she knew to drag Tutu down as well.

He'd been all wrong about Dennis' death too. What was the matter with him? If anything happened to Jenna now he had only himself to blame. He couldn't let anything happen to Jenna. Especially since it was so clear to him now. He was in love with her.

* * *

The sound echoed in Jenna's ears, a rhythmic thudding, low and steady. Hollow, whirling. Like she was in a cave. In truth she didn't know where she was.

Her head felt like it was swollen to twice its size. The steady thumping was in her temples, in her forehead, and at the base of her skull. Had she fallen? Hit her head on something?

A sound rumbled in the distance and the ground trembled beneath her. Another earthquake, or just her own shivering heartbeat?

Scratchy lengths of cord were wound around her wrists and ankles. She wiggled her wrists, tried to loosen her bonds, succeeded only in chafing the already sore skin. The cords were too tight.

She struggled to sit up, to clear the fog that had seeped into her brain. What happened? Why was she lying here on this dirt floor? She peered into the darkness around her, trying to decipher the mysterious shapes. Lawn mower. Pick and shovel. Wheelbarrow. A garden shed? She must be in Pearl's garden shed!

Someone must have sneaked up from behind when she knocked on the door. Someone who knew she was coming. Someone who could have killed her but didn't.

Who had done this to her? Pearl?

Why had she come rushing out here after Pearl in the first place? Why hadn't she waited for Detective Ushijima or any other police officer for that matter? But Pearl's note said she knew who killed Laura. "Important you tell no one," the note had warned. Jenna should have seen through that old ploy.

She didn't even see who hit her. One minute she was standing there knocking on the door and the next thing she knew she was waking up on the floor of a garden shed, tied up, and with a lump the size of Maui on her head.

Jenna wondered where Matt was. She'd really blown it where he was concerned. If she hadn't behaved that way the last time she saw him he might still be hanging around looking after her. He'd at least have explained a few things. She should have called him before she left. It was still hard to believe he was a cop. She had a lot of questions to ask Matt Kraemer. If she ever got out of this mess.

Somehow it felt late at night to her. She strained to listen for any sounds. No traffic noises. But then Pearl's place was hidden too far off the main road for that. And the garden shed was at the far end of the property.

Matt must be safely tucked away at the police station questioning Bea. While she was here awaiting who knows what fate lay at the hands of a madwoman. She guessed Bea wasn't the only one they should have worried about.

Another quake rumbled the earth, making Jenna's stomach roil along with it. Oh, God, she hoped she wasn't going to be sick. Come on, Jenna. You can be tough. It's up to you to get yourself out of this mess. No knight in shining armor is going to come galloping up to rescue you from the fire-breathing dragon.

Too bad she'd never believed in gallant knights. Matt would have been the closest she'd come. If she hadn't blown it. He had no way of knowing where she'd gone.

Her eyes had grown more accustomed to the darkness enveloping the tiny shed and Jenna began to search among the vague shapes for something she could use to help cut her bonds.

* * *

The figure stood silhouetted against the glowing night sky, weaving her body back and forth in an agitated rhythm, chanting words only she could understand. Everything was in near readiness for the sacrifice. This one, the last, would bring the most favor, be the most pleasing to the mighty Pele.

The fire goddess had erupted that afternoon at a portion of the crater that had long lain still and quiet. Only she knew how to get there, through the winding unpaved road that ran along the twisting molten lava path. There was never any point in those ignorant scientists trying to predict where Pele would travel. Pele chose her paths at whim and never warned the unbelieving. Her fire glowed a rich red-orange against the otherwise black night.

The gifts had already been laid out before the lava slab that would serve as the altar. The freshly-roasted pig. The packet of tobacco. A bottle of the finest gin. All were wrapped in the ti leaves she'd picked at sunrise when their shiny surfaces were still beaded with the morning dew. She had picked flowers too and sewn them carefully into leis. The fragrant plumeria with its petals of creamy white and pinkish red. The leis would be worn by the intended when she was sent to serve Pele.

There was only one more thing to prepare and then she would go and bring the victim. Carefully, with its sharpened tip pointing out towards the crater, she laid out the sacrificial knife.

* * *

Pearl was surprised to find Matt standing at the front door. An unexpected nighttime visit? Nevertheless, she smiled and asked him to come in.

"This isn't a social call, Pearl. I'm looking for Jenna. And your mother."

"My mother? Why, she's already gone to bed. And Jenna? Why would she be here at this hour of the night? I haven't seen Jenna since she was here the other day."

"Do you mind if I check around anyway?"

He was already brushing past Pearl, hurrying down the hall to where he assumed the bedrooms would be. Pearl followed right behind.

"That's my room," she said at the first door he came to. "Tutu's is at the end of the hall. But why are you looking for her? What's wrong? What is this all about?"

"No time to explain. Jenna is in big danger."

He swung open the last door and switched on the light. A cursory glance showed the rumpled but vacant bed, and he spun around, nearly bumping into Tutu's closely tailing daughter.

"Where else would your mother be? It's important I find her. I believe she's going to hurt Jenna." Matt knew he was being gruff, impatient, but it couldn't be helped. He had to find Jenna before it was too late.

Pearl's face turned pale and she was obviously confused but she immediately led Matt out the back door, switching on the outdoor garden lights before going out to help him search.

* * *

Jenna had found a garden sickle by inching her way along one wall of the shed. She'd managed to slice through several of the cords binding her wrists behind her when she heard the noise of crunching gravel. Someone was coming! Instinctively, Jenna crouched back farther into the shadows.

The door creaked open and Jenna held her breath for fear of making the slightest sound. She saw the flashlight beam cut through the shed, then make its way to shine blindingly in her face. The old woman chuckled.

"So, you trying to get free. Think you pretty clever, eh? Well, we'll see."

Tutu was dressed in yards of flaming silk, the same costume Pearl had worn in her dance to honor Pele. Jenna could smell the pungent maile strands at her neck, head, wrists and ankles. What was she dressed like that for? Wearing Pearl's clothes? Where was Pearl anyway? Why had Pearl asked her to come here?

"Tutu. You hit me and tied me up? Why? What are you going to do to me?" Then it dawned on her. Tutu must have written the note, not Pearl, knowing the promised news about Laura's killer would lure her out here.

Tutu pulled a small knife out of her pocket and flicked out a long thin blade. She cut the bonds at Jenna's ankles and pulled her roughly to her feet. Jenna stumbled, the blood prickling its way into her swollen and numb ankles.

"My hands." Her voice came out in a whisper, and Tutu only laughed at Jenna's frightened plea.

"Your hands can stay that way. I'm not stupid enough to give you the chance to fight me. You think I'm a weak old woman. Big surprise that I'm not."

"What are you going to do to me?" Jenna asked again, only to be shoved in the back of her waist. She moved forward, out the door and across the gravel driveway. It was only then she realized her feet were bare. "You took my shoes." She glanced down at Tutu's own bare feet, its skin thickened and tough from years of walking barefoot over the island's varied surfaces. "I can't walk on the rocks like you can."

"No complaining. You have only a little way to go. You haoles are too soft, too used to the easy way of life."

Afraid to say anything else, Jenna stumbled on ahead, her eyes darting about looking for any chance of escape.

"Into the car, hurry, passenger side," Tutu ordered, shoving her. Jenna had barely pulled her bruised and cut feet in after herself when the door slammed and Tutu got in the other side.

"Get your head down. Hurry."

Someone help me. Jenna offered up a silent prayer to anyone who might be there to hear.

* * *

Matt found the garden shed too late. Cursing under his breath, he picked up the bits of frayed cord lying beside the discarded pocket knife. Sweat popped out along his forehead at the recognition of Jenna's shoes in the corner. A tiny sparkle from the floor caught his attention and he bent to pick up a small earring. The Hawaiian diamond set in a gold cabbage rose that had come from Laura's shop. Jenna's earring.

Pearl was almost useless, her normal air of calm given way to tears and mumblings. Matt bumped into her on the way out of the shed, one time too many. He gripped her by her shoulders and shook her firmly.

"If you want to help me save Jenna, you're going to have to get yourself under control. Now think. Where would Tutu have taken her? Where would she take a sacrifice to Pele?"

"Sacrifice?" The word had a sobering effect. She turned in time to see her car go spinning out of the gravel drive. "Tutu," she said, the wonder and fear sounding clearly to Matt's ears. "Come," she instructed. "You drive."

They climbed into Matt's Blazer and peeled out of there amidst a crunch of gravel and smoke, and a piercing screech of tires. Matt radioed for backup, never once taking his eyes off the dark road ahead.

"You're a cop," Pearl said in awed recognition beside him, and he hoped she wasn't planning to fall apart again. He needed her now more than ever, to help him find his way through Tutu's stomping grounds in time to save Jenna. But the shoulder-shaking he'd given her back at the shed seemed to have done the trick.

"Turn here," she instructed in a voice that was once again strong and clear. She would help now.

Matt maneuvered his way through the maze of lava and ohia trees. One turn looked the same as the one before, and he wondered more than once if he would ever find Jenna, or even find his own way out again. He could see the headline now. "Mainland Cop Lost Among Lava Fields."

Come on, Kraemer. Don't go negative on me now. Stay strong for Jenna, man.

There was something lying across the road up ahead. A fallen ohia tree. Looked like someone had dragged it there on purpose. He must be on the right track.

Cursing for the thousandth time that day, he shoved the car in first, put on the hand break and hopped out to deal with the road block.

* * *

Jenna knelt in terror in front of the long slab of lava Tutu had indicated. Sweat drenched her body, and she shivered, despite the heat emanating from the fiery pit beyond. She had all but given up looking for a way out, sure that nothing but fields of lava surrounded them for miles in every direction, some of it molten and hot.

Tutu was still chanting, saying over and over the unfamiliar Hawaiian words she'd begun when they arrived. She moved her body in a complicated series of steps, whirling and waving her arms as she danced. Jenna's eyes never left the shining tip of the long bladed knife she held in one outstretched hand, knowing all too well it was intended for her.

Jenna had tried reasoning with her, but the insane glint in the old woman's dark eyes had told her Tutu was in some other world. She was locked firmly back in the days of old Hawaii, the days during which the Pele legends had been born. Tutu had seen poor Laura as the enemy, a person disrespectful of the old ways and the great fire goddess.

Jenna had been too late to help Laura. And now, somewhere within the depths of her madness Tutu had decided Jenna was to be another of her sacrificial victims. Jenna numbly wondered why she'd been singled out for such ceremony, when the other victims' deaths had not been made into as much. Jenna knew she must try again. Try to reach Tutu in some way, to reason with her. It was her only hope.

* * *

Matt had not realized how close they were to the spewing volcano until he'd taken that last turn. "Are you sure she would have come out this far? This close to the eruption?" he questioned Pearl.

"The flow never came this way before," she said, nodding firmly. "And yes, she does come way out here. There's a cave we found among the rocks. A long time ago. My mother thought Pele had created it especially to be used for her honor. She set up a slab altar and would bring gifts out all the time. Fruit, tobacco, flowers, the usual. I never thought she would harm anyone. I still can't believe she plans Jenna as a sacrifice."

Matt clenched his jaw. "I just hope we aren't too late."

Suddenly Pearl pointed. "There. The two torches. They mark the path to her altar."

Matt skidded his way up and through, only just squeezing the car between the bordering torches.

"There they are!" Matt could see more torches several feet away, just beyond a low rock wall constructed of jagged a'a stones. He screeched to a stop and jumped out of the Blazer in almost the same moment, running to leap over the wall and towards the makeshift altar where Jenna lay.

But before he could reach her, still several yards away, Tutu leaped out into his path, her arms raised high in one hand, the knife reflecting the flickering torch fire. He craned his neck to see beyond to the altar. Jenna lay still, unmoving. He was too late.

"Aloha, haole," greeted Tutu with a malicious grin. The gold tooth glinted in the firelight. "You are too late," she said, in confirmation of his most-dreaded thought.

But he had come prepared. At least the villain would not escape. He pulled the seldom-carried gun from his belt and leveled it at the still-dancing woman. Seeing the gun seemed only to amuse her. Her voice rose and spun, drifting off in a mad cackle across the fiery pit. It was followed by an odd silence, then a moan. A moan, coming from the altar. Jenna. She was still alive.

"Put the knife down," he ordered, edging a small bit closer. He knew he had to take it slow, even though his impulse was telling him to push the old woman aside and run to Jenna.

"Pearl!" he yelled over his shoulder, not sure whether or not she had followed him from the truck. "Go see to Jenna. She won't stop you." Even as the words left his lips he wasn't sure. Tutu might already be too deeply entrenched in her madness to recognize her own daughter.

Pearl was horrified by the sight of her mother, wearing her costume and dancing in an insane fury to honor her goddess. Again the tears flowed, and Pearl walked slowly towards Tutu. "Why, Mama?" she sobbed. "Tell me why."

Tutu sneered in her direction. "Why, daughter? You, of all people, should know. Didn't I teach you to have proper respect for the great one? Have you forgotten? Someone had to punish those who were disrespectful. Pele chose me to carry out that punishment." She looked at Matt, still edging closer, his gun trained firmly upon her. "Your bullets will not touch me, haole cop. The great one will protect me." Again she gave an ear-splitting shriek, then whirled and danced closer to the altar, closer to Jenna with her knife.

"I'll shoot if you get any closer to her. Drop the knife, Tutu. Let me take you where you can get some help."

Tutu looked behind her. Matt saw the lava creeping steadily over her shoulder. How quickly could those molten fingers travel? They had to get out of here. All of them and soon.

He fired a shot, aiming way past Tutu and Jenna, just to try cutting through the madness. It was the wrong thing to do. Tutu shrieked in rage and ran straight for the altar, her arms raising the knife, ready to plunge into Jenna. He fired again, this time hitting the knife dead on. A perfect shot, knocking the knife to the ground, stunning Tutu into immobility.

But too quickly, she recovered, while Matt was sidetracked. With the weapon down he'd allowed himself a second too long to look over at Jenna once again. Tutu whirled and ran, down the rocky path, towards the molten lava.

She continued shouting in a mad chant, her words blurring together across the glowing night.

"Mama!" Pearl screamed across the shimmering waves of heated air, a moment before Tutu dipped, swirled, and disappeared, leaping over into the flaming pit.

Chapter Seventeen

Jenna went back to her hotel after the hospital released her in the early morning hours, her mind whirling with all that had happened, thoughts buzzing with unanswered questions.

Her visit to Hawaii was ending tomorrow. Hawaii the beautiful--and deadly. Hawaii the romantic--and heartbreaking. Hawaii, the place where her relationship with Matt would end. But she still had tonight. Her last night in paradise.

Matt would arrive in just a few minutes. He had promised to fill her in on all the details of his case. Who would have guessed he was a cop working undercover? He'd sure fooled her. She was embarrassed now to think about how quickly she'd dismissed him as a no account disc jockey and beach bum. Maybe she should apologize. The man had saved her life after all. And stolen her heart. She knew she was in love with him.

So much had happened in the last few days.

Laura had died by what had turned out to be murder. She never would have thought Tutu would go that far. A slow poisoning by the deadly oleander plant. Murder in the first degree.

She had killed others too, in what she'd made look like accidents. Innocent tourists, the other victims, were picking up a souvenir or two of lava rock, laughing at customs and beliefs they didn't understand. They hadn't deserved to die. But Tutu was that far gone on her beliefs by then.

Dennis' death was another matter. That was Bea's doing. All Jenna knew so far about that was what Tony had revealed in their last hypnotherapy session. That Bea had hit Dennis with a piece of driftwood and then drowned him. Laura was involved somehow, but that part was still sketchy.

Bea had killed her own husband too. She and Mr. Pereira never got along too well and when she learned he'd taken out a big insurance policy, well, it was just too tempting. Bea wanted the money for Tony, of course. Acting lessons, clothes, whatever it would take to launch his career. Jenna would have to learn the details from Matt.

Matt. Every thought of him brought a new ache to her soul. Jenna wondered how she was going to say goodbye to him, how she would stand not ever seeing him again. Not touching him. Not making love with him. That one magical night was all they would ever have.

Today she reached back in her mind, trying to uncover the first moment she'd discovered herself in love with him. Was it that night they made love, while she reached for him out of her grief with a need to touch someone alive and warm and whole?

The knock at the door, though expected, made her jump. Her heart started pounding, and she was sure it would be the first thing Matt heard when he entered the room. She opened the door and he was there, taking her into his arms, holding her close, kissing her face, her neck, her lips.

Part of her welcomed him, melted into the warm security of his caress. The other part, the one that knew this was goodbye, forced herself to hold back, to extract herself ever so slowly from his embrace and stand away from him, move back out onto the balcony with mumbled words about him wrapping up the case.

He studied her with a quizzical look, then began to fill her in on the details surrounding her confusing week in paradise.

"You already know about Tutu. We found some more of the oleander poison in the garden shed. Pearl didn't know it was there, had no idea her mother was experimenting with poisonous plant extracts. She remembers Tutu borrowing some of her plant books, asking questions, but she hadn't thought anything unusual about it. She knew the oleander was poisonous. Every part of it is deadly- -leaves, stems, flowers, even the root--capable of causing agonizing illness and death. One of its other names is 'horse killer.'"

"She wanted Laura to suffer before she died. There seemed to be a lot of pent-up rage inside that tiny woman. Pent up rage and extreme cruelty." Jenna still had trouble grasping the extent of Tutu's madness.

"Well, she was physically tiny. But she was pretty powerful, capable of killing, when it came to her mistaken sense of justice."

"What about Dennis and Bea? Was Laura really there that day like Tony remembered under hypnosis?"

Matt nodded. "She was there, but not when Bea killed Dennis. She'd left by then. Bea confessed. She broke down and told us everything once Tony was brought in to see her at the police station. She didn't want him to suffer anymore for her doings."

"She was involved in the jewel-smuggling with Laura?"

"Yes, and Dennis found out and was planning to go to Tony with what he knew. As far as her husband's murder, he tried to blackmail her on that one. She wasn't having any of that. Bea wasn't sharing the money and she couldn't stand to be disgraced in the eyes of her precious son. She killed Dennis, but didn't expect Tony to be out there that day too. Tony was hurt accidentally, when he tried to get to Dennis to help him."

"Bea must have been devastated by what she'd caused to her own son."

"She was. The guilt of knowing she was responsible for Tony's pain and the ruin of his potential acting career was eating her up inside. She smothered him more than she had in the past, trying in some twisted way to make up for what she'd done."

"Why'd she start smuggling jewels in the first place?" Jenna asked.

"Same reason as most. Money. She wanted to help Tony's modeling career and help get him into acting. She planned on using the money for acting lessons, clothes, make overs, basically anything he wanted. But it backfired when he became injured. Then she kept up the smuggling so she could provide the best physical therapy, medications, plastic surgery too, even though Tony insisted he didn't want any of it."

"What will Tony do now?"

"Oh, he'll stay at his salon, doing what he enjoys doing. Flirting with all the women, working his glamour magic on them. He told me he really prefers hairstyling to modeling. He just could never convince his mother of that."

"I like Tony," Jenna confided. "I hope he'll be able to get past grieving for Laura and find a really nice girl to settle down with. It's what he'd like, I think. He'll need someone. Especially with Bea off in prison."

"Yes," Matt agreed. "She'll be there awhile."

Jenna remembered something else. "What did Tutu mean about Laura cheating people with her jewelry?"

"Ah, yes. Bea was in on that one too. Remember how excited Laura was to find that clump of Pele's hair? That stuff was pretty hard to get a hold of."

"But her shop is full of it. It must have been readily available at some point."

Matt shook his head. "No. She and Bea had together discovered a way of faking it. They fabricated Pele's hair and tears, using plastics and other chemicals."

"So Laura needed Bea's pharmaceutical knowledge." The reason dawned on Jenna. "Then with that scheme going on, Laura had no choice but to help Bea with the opal smuggling. Or else Bea would blow the whistle on Laura's scam."

"That's right. But Laura wasn't involved in the actual smuggling. Her job was to turn the raw opals into finished pieces of jewelry which Bea then sold. She kept the one opal you saw made into a pendant, the one you turned over to the police."

Jenna's mind still whirled with all the pieces of this crazy puzzle. She gazed out across the dark blue water, shimmering diamonds along its glassy surface. "I'll miss this place," she said, not realizing she'd been thinking aloud, until she heard herself speak.

"You don't have to go."

When had Matt moved his chair so close beside hers? His breath was warm against her ear. "Stay, love," he said, his voice husky with emotion and desire.

What was he saying? Was he asking her to stay with him in Hawaii? Would he be staying?

"But your work..." she started to protest.

"Can be done quite well right here, thank you. With a few adjustments."

"Adjustments?"

"I'm getting too old for this undercover business. It's time to settle into a nice steady police beat. Maybe even a desk job."

Jenna laughed. "A desk job? You? The man who's been a cop, a helicopter pilot, an artist, a disc jockey, and a surfer? I don't think you'd last a week at a desk job."

"Let me tell you why I left Chicago. I was involved in a big drug bust and one of the guys escaped, threatening to kill me if it was the last thing he ever did. My department sent me here under cover. The guy was finally apprehended last week."

Matt grinned, sparks glinting in his rich chocolate eyes. "And I think I'd last at a desk job. That is I would if I had someone like you to come home to. What do you think about staying out here for awhile?" he asked, his lips close to hers, his arms wrapped around her neck.

She smiled and gave a contented sigh. "With you? I think it sounds like the closest thing to paradise."

Epilogue

Jenna sat on the balcony outside her hotel room, feeling strangely at home. The four months since her first arrival in Hawaii went faster than any other time in her entire life. She'd made so many trips back and forth between here and Oregon it no longer seemed like a long flight.

Staying in Hawaii and being around its people had taught her to lighten up considerably. Matt liked to tease her about how prim and tense she was when they first met. He accused her of being up-tight, set in her ways. "Unable to jump in with both feet," he said.

And tomorrow they were getting married.

Now if that wasn't jumping in with both feet she didn't know what was.

Matt, with the impulsive air of the character he played undercover, had first proposed the day she was scheduled to fly home to Oregon.

"But we've only known each other a week!" she'd protested.

And there were so many loose ends to tie up.

Arranging Laura's funeral, for one. Laura's parents had agreed to have their daughter buried here on the island where she had found happiness, for however brief a time. So Jenna had gotten an extension from the TV station on her video project and waited for the funeral.

Then Jenna had returned to Oregon to finish her program. To her relief the special had aired last month and was a big success.

She'd flown back and forth several times. To answer the endless barrage of police questions about her abduction at the hands of an unlikely killer.

Pearl had retired as a performer, and would only dance for the little girls who still attended her hula studio.

They'd never been able to recover Tutu's body from under the massive lava flow that had swept over her. It seemed fitting to Jenna that she was taken away by the goddess she so revered.

If Jenna believed in Pele.

After everything she'd learned, all the tales and legends she had heard, she couldn't disbelieve.

There were more police questions about Beatrice Pereira, although all she knew there was what Tony had revealed under hypnotherapy.

Through all this Jenna had tried her best to be the kind of friend Tony needed to have around. They'd had regular hypnotherapy sessions and he was now using the technique to help him ease the pain in his leg as well as the pain he felt from the guilt of having revealed Bea's crimes to the police.

Police business seemed never-ending to Jenna. Matt's undercover case in Hawaii had been his last. True to his word he applied for--and got--a job on the local Hilo police force. It wasn't entirely a desk job but it kept him happy.

Happy enough to propose marriage to Jenna again after another couple of months had passed.

"We've known each other longer than a week now," he'd pointed out.

"Two months isn't very long," she'd said. Not very convincingly. Not with the way he looked at her with that smoldering passion in his eyes.

Jenna leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes and enjoying the soft breeze stroking her face and ruffling her hair.

In a moment she heard the turn of the key in the lock, the soft click of the door, and breathed in the fresh scent of salty sea air.

Matt put his hands on her shoulders, caressing the sides of her neck, leaning down to nuzzle against her ear.

"Nervous about the wedding tomorrow?" he whispered, causing that now- familiar shiver to tingle down her spine.

"Nervous about the first day of my new life in paradise? Uh uh."

She sighed, feeling the delicious thrill only Matt could bring, and turned her face up to meet his kiss.

~The End~

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