“It’s a long story,” Heather said. “I’ll bring out the pitcher of Mai Tais.”
Mike smiled, “I’m not in a rush.”
Yay, Heather thought, as she went into the kitchen. He wanted to stay for a while. Maybe overnight? She added some ice, then poured in a generous portion of dark rum into the pitcher and stirred vigorously. Maybe it wasn’t a Love Potion, like the kind the witches and Omar made, but it was great at loosening the inhibitions.
Heather watched Mike’s expression when he tasted the drink she poured into his glass.
He blinked, then said, “Wow. I love the burn when it goes down, but watch out, I might fall asleep right here at the table.”
“We’re young, we can live dangerously,” Heather said. “Anyway, you’ll need it when I tell you the story.” She took a careful sip of her own drink and told him the events that had happened, starting with Michelle’s rape and ending with how she got the diamond.
When she finished Mike said, “Diamonds don’t melt in fire. They have the highest melting point of any substance: about 6400 degrees Fahrenheit. Under normal circumstances you really can’t boil or melt them. They’re made of repeating units of carbon atoms; each atom joins four others. The hardness is measured by Moh’s scale, which is 10 for diamonds, highest on the scale.”
“You’re not just another pretty face,” Heather said.
“Cutting the glass mirror was a pretty good test. Next time, try it on a harder surface, like metal.”
“I think Michelle’s going to get rid of it. Give it back to Omar.”
“As a scientist, the rest of what you’ve told me seems other-worldly, almost like fiction. The thing that concerns me most, though, is that your best friend, Michelle, is a danger to you.”
Heather shook her head in denial, “No.”
“You’re too smart not to know it. Omar already tried to harm or kill you, with a lightning bolt. Probably to hurt Michelle and isolate her so he can have her.”
You don’t know the half of it, Heather thought. She hadn’t told him about the strange overdose of sleeping pills she couldn’t remember taking. Or about the modeling shoot at Hanauma Bay when she saw Omar below on the beach, became strangely dizzy, fell on the lava rocks and received a serious concussion. Or about the witch who tried to snuff her with a pillow when she was in the hospital. She decided she didn’t want Mike to know about all that yet.
Heather wouldn’t stop seeing Michelle, but knew she was in danger. Even more danger than Michelle, because Omar wanted Michelle alive to produce a psychic child. Mike was right. Omar probably wanted her dead, Heather thought, because he knew having good friends made Michelle stronger.
“That guy Omar sounds psychotic,” Mike said, “or like a dangerous sociopath, willing to do anything to weaken Michelle, to the extent that he would hurt or kill her best friend—meaning you.”
Heather studied Mike. He was serious. “I contacted people in this building to let me know when Omar got back. Michelle had the first sighting earlier today, so I believe he just got out of jail. I don’t think he’ll try anything this soon.”
Mike was shaking his head, extremely grave. “I don’t put much credence in stories of witchcraft. But the fact that Omar gets people addicted to drugs he imports from South America, and puts that poison in what he calls Witch Potions that supposedly help people, pretty much proves he has no normal restraints about harming people to gain wealth.”
“Glorified snake-oil peddler,” Heather agreed. “From what I understand the chemicals he uses are extremely rare. The prosecution is testing the stuff to prove Omar’s intent to sell dangerous drugs. They were also holding him because he was what they called, ‘harboring a fugitive.’ His employee, Samson Stoker, robbed a bank.
“On top of all that,” Heather continued, “are the charges made by Michelle and Professor Vincent Middleton; he kidnapped them both and dropped them in the ocean near the island of Kauai. Michelle actually pulled Vincent to shore with a belt she held in her teeth because the professor couldn’t swim. But, of course, Omar’s friends say Michelle and the professor are lying. It really is true though, and Michelle might have to testify against Omar.”
“How’d you find out about that?” Mike said. “It sounds like the attorney was practically laying out his case.”
“The prosecution attorney wants me to testify against Omar too, so I guess he just spilled.”
“After you got him drunk on Mai Tais? Or was it just your incredible charm?”
Heather laughed, “I do think he got a little loose lipped...”
She paused, and then lost her train of thought, when there was a piercing shriek. They looked outside where the scream came from, toward the beautiful ocean view, and saw the falling body, screaming and kicking, pass by the balcony on the way down. The hair was long and blond, swirling in the breeze. The shriek was abruptly cut off by another sound...like that of a coconut being smashed.
It happened so fast they looked at each other, stunned. Without a word they got up, went to the edge of the balcony, and looked down. The woman was on the ground near the pool.
Mike swiveled so he was looking up the side of the building. “Can you tell where she came from?”
Heather shook her head, leaning over the balcony, looking down. “No. I don’t see any blood, thank God.”
Mike took out his cell and was calling 911.
“We have to go...see if she’s alive,” Heather said after another long look. “I know who she is.”
Mike nodded, still talking to emergency personal, as they hurried to the elevator. “You know which floor she fell from?”
“She stays with Omar, in the penthouse,” Heather said.
“Top floor.” Mike shook his head, muttering, “Approximately 10 feet per floor, so she fell about 250 feet. A falling body increases velocity every
