Page 19 of Talk Story

“The timing is too much to be coincidence,” Uncle Kalani said.

“We should get going,” Keone said. “In case of any other booby traps.”

“And we should call Lei with the MPD and tell her about this before we do anything else.” I checked my phone. “Darn it. No signal.”

“I think your friend Elle had the right idea,” Pali said. “Let’s move out.”

We followed the path, letting Uncle Kalani, leaning on his staff, set the pace.

When we finally reached the end of the trail at the parking area, Elle was sitting on a fallen log, a clipboard across her knees, writing.

“I hid and watched for vehicles on the cane road,” she said. “One truck passed about twenty minutes ago. I got a partial plate, and I was writing down my statement for the police.” She held out her clipboard, clearly wanting to make amends for taking off.

Pali took the clipboard and gazed at the numbers.

“That’s useful,” he said. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry for running off,” Elle said. “I hope it helps.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Pali said. Elle took the clipboard back; they were staring at each other again.

Keone cleared his throat and held up his phone. “Anyone got enough signal to call the police?”

We came off the trail at dusk, dusty and quiet. Pali and Uncle Kalani split off at the trailhead: Pali to call his contacts at the Historic Preservation Division before they closed for the day, Uncle Kalani to contact his spiritual supporters.

Elle, Keone and I piled into Keone’s truck and drove back toward Ohia with the windows down and the evening air cooling us off and smelling of faraway ocean. As soon as I had signal, I called Lei and left a message that was as accurate and as brief as I could make it: “Cave access confirmed, survey flags marking panels for removal were photographed, evidence of ongoing active operations was seen, and a possibly deliberate rockfall happened. Pali Moku has documentation and details. Call me.”

I reached out to Officer Malia Peahi, and she picked up. When I conveyed my message, she said “I’ll meet you at the K & K office” in her brisk way.

I sat with my phone in my lap as Keone drove and pictured the survey flags, yellow plastic and entirely out of place in that dark chamber. The carvings lit up on the wall in our headlamps had seemed so timeless—both artwork and record keeping.

“You’re thinking about the wall,” Keone said.

“I’m thinking about the people who made it,” I said. “They weren’t trying to create something beautiful or decorative. They were trying to send a message to those who followed them—one that wouldn’t disappear.”

“You’re right about that, Kat, but the carvings were beautiful even so,” Elle said from the back seat. “I’m glad I got to see them.”

She didn’t need to add that she might not ever be able to in the future; we were all thinking that already.

The road curved over a ridge and bumped along a canyon wall as the sunset went gold on the ocean off in the distance. Tiki shifted in her carrier with a commanding mew, reminding me it was time for dinner.

“We’ve got food for you in the shack, Tiki,” I said. She settled back down with a ‘meep.’

Elle shook her head. “You two have some telepathy going on.”

“You didn’t understand that?” I said. “Cat speak for ‘feed me or else.’ One of the first phrases Tiki taught me.”

“Makes me glad I’ve opted for no pets,” Elle said.

I smiled. “As if I had a choice in the matter.”

Tiki confirmed this with a delicate feline grunt.

6

Officer Malia Peahi sat across from us in the K & K shack, a pen already in her hand. She’d clearly been off shift for a while; she wore an Ohia General Store hoodie, a statement of her loyalty to our town, over shorts and a tank top. Keone’s notes lay on the table between us. Pali had joined us, though Uncle Kalani had gone home to rest.

“Walk me through your experience at the cave,” Malia said.