The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

the tears to Pele?”
    “Yes, she arranged it all beforehand with the pilot. I know she meant to toss the tears into the crater, but I’m not convinced she meant to toss herself in as well.”
    “OK,” Dillon said. “What are you suggesting? That Pele’s responsible for your grandmother’s death?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous!” Noelani glared. “What sort of superstitious fool do you take me for?”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “No.” She waved away his apology, her irritation vanishing as quickly as ithad materialized. “I know suicide fits the facts, and I might have reconciled myself to it eventually, but then I got a call from Lily Yamaguchi, my grandmother’s housekeeper. Lily was upset. She said she’d noticed something strange.”
    “What?”
    Noelani hesitated. “On the wall of my grandmother’s office at her place on the Big Island is a picture, an enlargement of an old black-and-white snapshot of my grandfather in his navy uniform. He’s leaning against a palm tree, grinning at the camera. His best friend snapped the photograph the week before the attack on Pearl Harbor.” Noelani glanced up, and Dillon found himself mesmerized by her eyes - so sad, so vulnerable, so lovely. After a moment, she lowered her gaze, focusing in seeming fascination on a set of leprechaun salt and pepper shakers.
    “I’m confused,” Dillon said. In more ways than one. “What upset the housekeeper?”
    “The picture,” Noelani said. “It . . . had changed.”
    “What do you mean ‘changed’? Was it ripped? Faded? What?”
    “No damage.” Noelani stared at her hands. “The change is, my grandmother’s in the photograph now, standing beside my grandfather.”
    Silence filled the space between them for an endless moment.
    Dillon was the first to speak. “Somebody obviously switched photographs without telling the housekeeper.”
    “There’s nothing obvious about it,” Noelani snapped. “With Grandmother gone, no one’s living in the house. It’s kept locked, and Lily’s the only one with a key. No one else has been there.”
    No one she knew of.
    “Besides, my grandmother wasn’t on Oahu the day that picture was taken. She’d returned to the Big Island - to Hilo - the day before to bail her brother out of jail.”
    “So the photo was taken another time,” Dillon said. “Mystery solved.”
    “That’s the thing. It’s not a different photograph. It’s the same photograph. The only difference is that my grandmother’s in it now.”
    Dillon took a deep breath. He’d seen it before. Grief made people — even sensible, intelligent people - gullible, willing to believe things they’d never accept under ordinary circumstances. “Could the housekeeper be mistaken?”
    “That’s what I assumed at first. What other rational explanation is there?” Noelani gave him a troubled look.
    “So for the sake of argument, say I’m right. Say the photograph of your grandparents was taken at the same location on a different day. Maybe your grandmother swapped the pictures, but the housekeeper didn’t notice until after your grandmother’s death.”
    “If so,” Noelani said, “there should still be some trace of the original photo, but there’s not. Lily went through Grandmother’s photo albums. There’s no sign of it.”
    “Then maybe someone tampered with the original.”
    “Why would anyone do that?”
    He shrugged. “People do all kinds of strange things.”
    “But if the picture had been altered, wouldn’t the tampering be fairly easy to spot?”
    “Not necessarily,” he said. “Some of the new Photoshop programs can do incredible things. If you’d like, I could have a look at it.”
    “Does that mean you’ll take the case?” She extended her right hand across the table.
    “I guess it does.” He took her hand in his to seal the deal. A mistake of mammoth proportions. Touching her - even in an impersonal handshake - served as a painful reminder of their past history.
    “Thank you.” Noelani smiled.
    Common politeness dictated that he should smile back, but all he could think of were those 365 letters he’d written her, one a day for a whole year. She’d never answered a single one. Noelani Crawford was a cold-hearted bitch. He’d accepted that hard truth long ago. Only she didn’t feel like a cold-hearted bitch. Didn’t look like one, either. And that hurt even more.
    “Jeez, look at this.”
    Noelani glanced across the crowded attic towards Dillon, who was holding