Free Fire Prayer by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

the other direction.
    When Storm got back from her walk, Makani and Keone had put the bridles back on the horses and retightened their girths. The haze that blurred the horizon a little over an hour ago was much closer. In fact, cloud banks shot with oblique streaks of sun and rain loomed so close they could smell the water in the air.
    â€œWe might get a little wet. Does everyone have a jacket?” Makani got on his horse. “Let’s head back through the forest. There’s a bit more shelter.”
    The horses knew they were heading back to the ranch, too, and with the wind at their backs, lengthened their strides along the path. Though the leaves rustled around them, the ride was cool and the horses moved in a comfortable rhythm. Storm could see Hamlin sat as relaxed as everyone one else on the ride, and she grinned. She didn’t get away with it unnoticed, though, as Keone chuckled behind her.
    â€œYou’re as transparent as a window pane, you know?”
    â€œShoots, Uncle Keone, I can’t ever fool you.”
    But both of them were fooled. Stunned, in fact. The horses were in single file, Makani and Hamlin were carrying on a conversation, and Makani was turned in his saddle to talk to Hamlin. No one in the line knew if it was Makani’s bay or Hamlin’s buckskin who first snorted its warning. But Makani’s horse reared and pivoted first, which led Hamlin’s to do the same. The stench of death reached them a split second later.

Chapter Ten
    Skelly Richards pulled into the driveway at Hawai‘i EcoTours around eight a.m. He’d stopped for breakfast at an old friend’s house on the drive back from Halawa Bay, and despite the coffee he’d taken for the road, was feeling the lack of sleep. The friend had called a few days ago to tell Skelly that he’d heard Connor at the gym, talking about some people from O‘ahu who were looking for the younger Liu brother. He thought Skelly would be interested. That alone made Skelly uncomfortable, plus any discussion about the Lius was bad news. It was a long-known fact.
    After last night’s haircut, he and Tanner had reminisced about old friends and had a few beers. Actually, Tanner only had one. If he even finished it. Skelly didn’t want to count the bottles he’d emptied—the throb behind his eyes told him too many.
    The evening had been a pleasant buzz of friendship, except when Skelly mentioned the old gang. He’d also referred to the Liu kid, now he thought about it. But Tanner had just looked at him with a blank stare. After an uncomfortable moment, Tanner asked why he was thinking about them. The whole thing had been a bit weird, as if Tanner had forgotten he was part of the gang.
    Granted, the beer had made Skelly talkative, but he thought it was okay to put out feelers with someone he trusted. He just wanted to know if Tanner had heard the same gossip the other guy phoned about. He guessed not, but he wasn’t sure. That look had been odd. Could be that medicine Tanner was taking, though. It certainly made him sleep like the dead. He’d been tough to wake up.
    They’d spent the remainder of the night in the office on a pullout couch and chair cushions arranged on the floor. Skelly figured it was better than driving home, waking Helene and Amy on their entry, and again when they got up two hours before dawn.
    It had been pitch dark, chilly, and raining when they loaded Skelly’s faded red pickup with supplies and pulled onto the highway to Halawa Bay. At least they’d had time to brew a pot of coffee from the grounds Tanner had found. No milk or sugar, though.
    â€œProbably from your last visit,” Skelly said, sniffing at the bag of coffee, which was one of two things in the freezer. The other was a carton of freezer-burned ice cream. Chocolate chip cookie dough. He tossed that one into the rubbish can without sniffing.
    â€œMeans they’re about six weeks