Page 29 of Tiki Beach (Paradise Crime Cozy Mystery #6)

They were splitting up. A chill ran through me, jump-starting my heart.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slipping against the smooth case. I redialed Lei, the ringtone echoing in my ear once, twice, three times before rolling to voicemail.

“Lei, it’s Kat,” I whispered urgently, ducking further behind the broad leaves of the plant.

“David Santos is here in the café, but the guy he was meeting in scrubs is heading to the stairs right now. I think they’re going after Pearl.

Third floor, room 312. I’ll try to beat him by taking the elevator. Please hurry.”

As I ended the call, I watched the man in scrubs hit the staff door to enter into the stairwell. The fluorescent light from the elevator briefly illuminated his forehead and nose, but his face was effectively hidden by the mask and hair covering. The door closed behind him.

I rushed to the elevator and jabbed the button, the plastic cool under my fingertip.

Fortunately, it was waiting, and chimed as the doors parted, releasing a wave of antiseptic-scented air.

Inside, the space smelled of hand sanitizer.

I pressed the button for the third floor, watching the numbers glow one after another as the elevator ascended.

When the doors finally opened on the third floor, harsh fluorescent lighting made me blink after the dimness of the elevator.

The corridor stretched before me, beige walls and speckled linoleum floor gleaming under the unforgiving illumination.

The squeak of rubber-soled shoes and the distant murmur of a television provided a soundtrack for my racing heart.

The air on this floor was cooler, chilling me further as I moved down the hall. As I rounded a corner, scanning for Room 312, beeping and low voices at the nurse’s station filled the air, enhanced by the scent of industrial floor cleaner.

My stomach tightened as I spotted an empty chair outside Pearl’s room, abandoned as if its occupant had left in a hurry. A half-finished cup of coffee sat on a small side table, a thin skin formed on its surface, the Maui PD logo visible on the plastic drinking vessel.

The officer who was supposed to be guarding Pearl was gone.

Pearl’s door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of muted light spilling into the hallway.

From inside came the rhythmic beeping of monitors—too fast or too slow, I couldn’t tell, but the electronic pulse underscored my urgency.

My precious size 11 Nike shoes squeaked against the polished floor as I pushed the door open with my shoulder, wincing at the pneumatic whine of the hinges, which I made sure closed all the way behind me.

The room was dim, its blinds drawn against the hot sun.

Pearl lay still, white sheets pulled up to her chest, her small frame barely making a dent in the hospital blankets.

The machines around her blinked and hummed, green and red lights casting an eerie glow across her pale face.

The air smelled of disinfectant and loneliness.

I moved quickly to the bedside, my gaze scanning the monitors and registering the regularity of Pearl’s heartbeat. “Whew. You’re alive.” I set the flowers down on Pearl’s nightstand, the waxy wrapper crinkling loudly in the quiet room.

“Pearl?” I whispered, gently touching her arm. The skin beneath my fingertips was paper-thin and cold. “Pearl, it’s Kat.”

Her eyelids fluttered, dark lashes against pale cheeks, before opening slowly. Confusion clouded her sunken eyes momentarily before recognition dawned, her gaze sharpening in the dim light as she focused on my face.

“Kat,” she said, her voice like dry leaves crackling. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” I kept my voice low, the words barely carrying over the persistent beeping of the monitors. “Pearl, has anyone been in your room in the last few minutes? A man in scrubs?”

She frowned, the movement creating new lines in her already creased face. “The nurse was here a little while ago. Checking my IV.” She lifted her hand slightly, drawing my attention to a tube taped to her skin, the clear liquid dripping steadily from the bag hanging above.

“Was it your regular nurse?” I asked urgently.

Pearl’s brow furrowed. “No . . . I don’t think I’ve seen him before. He said my regular nurse was on break.”

A sudden tightness in my chest made it difficult to breathe, the room’s recycled air feeling thin and insufficient. I glanced at the IV dripping into Pearl’s arm, then at the door. Whoever had been in here might have tampered with her IV.

I couldn’t leave it connected. I’d rather be sorry than wrong. “You might be in danger. I need to get this thing out.”

Pearl blinked in confusion but made no protest as I grasped her delicate hand.

“This might hurt a bit,” I warned, carefully peeling back the tape securing the IV to Pearl’s skin.

Her arm was mottled with bruises and the needle left a tiny bead of red as I eased it out.

Pearl winced but didn’t make a sound. I pressed a tissue from the bedside table against the mark.

“Hold this,” I said, pressing her fingers over the tissue. “Keep pressure here.”

The machines around us continued their rhythmic beeping. I located the power cords and followed them to the wall, unplugging them one by one. The monitors went dark, their electronic eyes closing, the beeping silenced mid-note.

“What about the call button?” Pearl asked, her voice stronger now, fueled by adrenaline. “I can call for help.”

“We don’t have time,” I said, moving to the foot of the bed. I found the brake release pedal and pressed it with my foot, feeling the mechanism give way with a metallic click. The bed shifted slightly, no longer anchored to the floor.

“Hold on to the side rails,” I instructed, positioning myself at the head of the bed. I gripped the metal frame, heavy and solid beneath my hands. “I’m going to push you out of here.”

Pearl nodded, her knuckles white against the bed rails. Her eyes darted to the door, then back to me. “Where will we go?”

“Somewhere safe,” I promised, though I had no idea where that might be. “Just stay quiet.”

The door swung open as the bed approached it.

Kawika, dressed in scrubs and a hair covering, stood in the doorway, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. A mask was pushed down under his chin.

“It was you,” I breathed—and hoped he hadn’t heard me.

Surprise registered on his face as he took in the scene—Pearl in her mobile bed, me pushing it, the darkened monitors.

“Kat? What are you doing?” he asked. “Pearl, are you alright?”

The moment he spoke, I recognized him for sure: that measured, reasonable voice had agreed with Santos on the recording. The calm tone that had suggested a health crisis for Pearl.

I forced my expression to remain friendly, even as every nerve ending screamed a dangerous rage.

“Kawika,” Pearl exclaimed, relief evident in her reedy tone. “Thank goodness it’s you. Kat thinks someone might be trying to hurt me.”

Kawika’s expression gave way to something harder, more calculating, before smoothing into a sympathetic frown so quickly I might have imagined the transition.

“That’s terrible,” he said, stepping into the room.

The door closed behind him. The soft click of the latch engaging sounded like a gunshot in the quiet. “What makes you think that, Kat?”

His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. The flowers in his hand, the same bouquet as mine—trembled slightly, the only indication that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared.

“The police officer is gone outside the door,” I said. “And Pearl said a nurse she didn’t recognize was in here, messing with her IV.”

“I checked with the nurse’s station. The officer stepped away to take a call because his cell phone wasn’t picking up in here.

And the nursing staff has been changing shifts.

” Kawika moved closer, setting his flowers next to mine on the nightstand—going back to buy them must have been why he was behind me in reaching the room.

“Why disconnect everything? Were you going to move her?”

The question hung in the air between us, innocent on the surface but loaded with implications.

“I was worried,” I said. “I’m former Secret Service. Protecting is my training.”

“Of course,” Kawika agreed in that calm, reasonable voice. “But Pearl should stay here where the doctors can monitor her, don’t you think? I’ll get a nurse to help get everything reconnected.”

He reached toward the call button on the wall, his finger hovering over it.

“No!” I said, too quickly. “I mean, we need to find her regular nurse. The one who knows her case.”

I was trapped—caught between continuing the pretense and revealing what I knew, which could escalate the situation and put Pearl in more danger.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker.

I glanced down at Pearl’s frightened face, then back at Kawika.

The weight of indecision lifted suddenly, replaced by cold clarity. Playing along wasn’t going to save us.

“I heard you,” I said firmly. “On the recording from the safe deposit box.”

Kawika’s eyes revealed a flicker of surprise before he composed himself. “What recording?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

“Someone recorded a meeting between you, David Santos and his father, and Councilman Akana,” I said, stepping around the bed to position myself between him and Pearl.

He would have to get through me to touch her.

“You and David Santos discussed removing Pearl as an ‘obstacle.’ You suggested a health crisis.”

Pearl’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound for a long moment as the two of us locked eyes.

“I just saw you with David,” I continued, my voice tight. “Downstairs in the cafeteria. You were both looking at something on a tablet. Planning your next move.”

“Kawika!” Pearl exclaimed, her voice a breathy thread of shock.

“You poisoned her tea at the ceremony,” I said. “And now you’re here, dressed as medical staff, to finish what you started.”