The Dream Jumper's Promise

Chapter 1

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                                                       The Dream Jumper's Promise

Chapter 1

A shadow moved past the front window of Tina and Hank's

Dive Shop. The door opened, the overhead bell jingled, and a Maui Cop entered the store. The uniform, gun at the hip, even his downcast eyes were all familiar sights. In the last ten months, Tina had seen more than she wanted of Maui's finest.

"The sharks will get the body," everyone said.

She wasn't convinced Hank was dead. Not yet, even though the search had been abandoned after only one hundred and sixty-eight hours—ten thousand and eighty excruciatingly long minutes of hoping.

Her dog, Obi, trotted over to the policeman, as if the man wasn't seconds away from pounding another nail in Hank's empty coffin. "We found your husband's wallet." The leather in the cop's outstretched hand was a small but powerful reminder of Hank. Memories meteored towards her—his gypsy-black hair and twinkling eyes. At the beach, driving his truck, smiling from their bed.

She cupped the wallet in her small hand and closed her fingers around its edges. For all that remained of a dynamic man, it was surprisingly light.

"Where?" She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"Off the path, above Honolua."

No one takes a wallet surfing. "Thanks." It would hold his credit cards, medical insurance card, driver's license, dive instructor card, all part of Hank's life on Maui. A life he'd cherished. Married only sixteen months, would a man simply abandon his wife and a charmed life in Hawaii without a word?

The faint chugging of the air compressor in the shop's back alley broke through her thoughts. Katie, her shop girl, was in the back alley filling scuba tanks. Tina looked around to see the policeman had gone. She pulled the driver's license from its slot and grains of sand fell, sand that Hank might have touched before he went into the water that day.

 "Did I hear you talking to someone?" Katie popped in from the back room, her blond hair swinging.

"Police." Tina held up the wallet. "Hank's." Katie froze.

Someone barely of drinking age would know little of consoling a thirty-four-year-old widow. "Katie, can you do the coffee run now? I'll finish filling the tanks if you'll get me a double." Tina needed something and she hoped it was just coffee.

She walked through to the back alley and lowered herself to sit on an overturned milk crate waiting for the group of submerged scuba tanks in a metal trough to fill to 3000 psi. Leaning against the wall, her gaze drifted towards the sky. The gray clouds held in the humidity like a wool blanket, and sweat trickled down the small of her back into the waistband of her board shorts.

This new turn of events didn't completely eliminate the possibility that Hank might have faked his own death. He was smart enough to know credit cards were useless to someone who wanted to disappear. Still. The wallet felt cool in her hand. She'd have to tell Noble it turned up. Open that bag of snakes. Poor Noble.