Unforgettable by Meryl Sawyer

color to the dark rocks. Higher up were acres of pineapples and cane fields that swayed in the w ind, reminding her of spring corn .
    “What’s that?” Lucky pointed to a horseshoe-shaped outcropping of rock that rose from the ocean not far from shore.
    “ That’s the Molokini Crater. It’s a cone of an extinct volcano. Like Haleakala, only smaller. It’s a dive site these days.”
    She started to say something but stopped, spotting the car as they rounded the bend. The small white Bronco was marked Maui Police Department.
    It was so quiet in their car that Lucky could hear her heart beating in double-time. Oh, no! They’d come for her. They couldn’t arrest her, though, could they? She was out on bail. Maybe there was a new charge. Maybe they’d found out something about the hiker.
    Get a grip, she told herself. Don’t panic.
    “It’s my brother.” Greg pressed the opener and the garage door slowly rose. “You take Dodger inside while I talk to him.”
     
     
    L eaning against the squad car, Cody waited for Greg to come out of the garage. He had been back on the island for only an hour, and all hell had broken loose. At headquarters, he’d gotten word that Greg had posted Lucky’s bail. Minutes later, Sarah had called. What on earth had Greg been doing sitting on the floor of Kmart kissing that weirdo?
    The island was a small place, really tiny when you subtracted all the tourists. It was a working stiffs idea of paradise. Great climate, chamber of commerce views. And sky-high prices that came with a tourist economy. The locals shopped at Kmart.
    What had happened in the store would be around the island in a heartbeat. Not that he cared about gossip—he’d been the center of the juiciest scandal to hit the island in a decade. But he didn’t want his brother to lose everything because of this woman. Who knew what Lucky was up to?
    This was one helluva case. It had all the earmarks of an aberration in paradise—a real crime. He would have enjoyed every second of the investigation if Greg hadn’t been involved.
    Cody shook his head, his eyes on the isolated house. Out here Cody felt cut off from the rest of the world. How did Greg stand it? It was lonely and desolate. The wildness of it, the loneliness suited his brother in a way that Cody would never understand. Give him the up-country, with its grassy meadows and cowboys and farmers. People. Give him people, not a house at road’s end, facing the sea, its back toward civilization.
    Greg stalked out of the garage, a sullen expression on his face. Cody inhaled sharply, anxious to avoid a confrontation. “I hear you posted Lucky’s bail.”
    “So?” Greg challenged him.
    Cody realized his brother wasn’t going to make this easy. Did he ever? “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
    “Your jailer was letting half the island in to get a peek at Lucky and charging them five bucks a crack.”
    “I heard about it when I got back. I’ve taken care of him.”
    “Lucky could file a suit for violating her civil rights and bankrupt this island.”
    Cody mopped his brow with the back of his hand. Already Tony Traylor was screaming to the heavens about his brother springing Pele’s ghost. Like a snake, Traylor had slithered into the political arena, shedding his morals early on. He’d sacrifice Cody rather than lose one vote.
    “Stay out of this, Greg. She’s nothing but trouble.”
    “Lucky has amnesia. She needs help. Treating her like a criminal is the worst thing for her.”
    “There’s some controversy about her diagnosis,” Cody began, and was rewarded with a slight uplifting of Greg’s brow. “She still has her sense of smell.”
    “What the hell does that have to do with it?”
    “I was just in Honolulu. The doctors there sent her test results to several university hospitals and got mixed opinions. Some agree with the neurosurgeons who examined Lucky here, but others felt the Hoyt-Mellenberger syndrome doesn’t apply. They say