The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) Read Free

the dining room. The small room was furnished with just a few pieces: a persimmon-wood Japanese
tansu
chest, and a low paulownia tea table flanked by two indigo cushions. This was where I planned to serve our supper of grilled tuna, asparagus, and Japanese rice flavored with
kombu
.
    In the back of the house, near the kitchen and bathroom, was the original bedroom that we’d converted into our study. The small room held an old mission-style desk from Michael’s former apartment, his desktop computer, and a rattan daybed I’d covered with vintage Japanese quilts. This served our few guests and was a favorite lounging place near our only television.
    Michael was in the study on his phone call, keeping his eyes on the wall-mounted flat screen. CNN showed an aerial view of the Pacific Ocean. Although the sound was muted, a scrolling newsfeed confirmed Carly’s report.
    Major Earthquake Hits Northeast Japan to be followed by tsunami. Thousands feared injured. Richter scale 9.0.
And then, the message repeated.
    The Richter scale reading was probably off, because I’d never heard of such a powerful earthquake. I raised the volume to low, so I’d get more details without disturbing Michael’s call.
    An American newscaster was reporting that the earth’s plates had shifted under the Pacific about two hundred miles from the city of Sendai. The newscaster was chattering about the coast’s many seawalls and sirens going off everywhere and people evacuating in an orderly fashion.
    As he spoke, the picture shifted from the ocean to traffic-clogged roads and collapsed buildings of a town identified as Sugihama. Its name was familiar; I’d probably been through the area antiquing. With anxiety, I watched people hurry up steep outdoor tsunami evacuation stairs, past gawkers stopped along their route with cameras and phones pointed toward the ocean. I wanted to yell at them that this was not a YouTube moment, and they were slowing escape for others. But who would hear?
    Michael finished his call and came to sit with me on the daybed. “It’s Friday afternoon,” he said in a low voice. “Plenty of fishermen are out on the water.”
    And everyone else was at work or in school, or out shopping or inside their homes. Sure, they’d hear the sirens, but not everybody had a car they could speed away in, or legs strong enough to run.
    Michael’s eyes were fixed on a foamy white line growing across the dark-blue ocean. “Hank says it’s a couple of minutes away from hitting land.”
    “It’s long, but doesn’t look that high.” After speaking I realized the overhead camera couldn’t reveal the wave’s height. I had no way to judge, until the event itself.
    “I don’t think there are any seawalls taller than fifteen feet,” Michael said, as if he were thinking along the same lines. “Let’s hope that’s high enough for this little town. Oh, no, hold on. There it goes!”
    The line finally turned into a real wave that rushed smoothly over a seawall. The powerful, monstrous surge was lifting up all kinds of things—houses, street lamps, buses—before sucking them under. More water kept pushing from behind, and soon the entire small-town landscape was no longer there.
    All of it, gone.

    I grabbed Michael and buried my face in his chest. I felt his heart beating rapidly against my wet cheek.
    “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” Michael breathed deeply. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t stick around. Hank’s informed me that a complementary tsunami wave is headed for Hawaii.”
    “What the hell is that?”
    “The rebound of the energy generated by the wave that hit Tohoku. Sirens will go off all over Honolulu and coastal towns in a couple of hours, and if people in this development want to avoid a massive traffic jam they should gather their valuable papers now and evacuate.”
    I stared at him, feeling this news was too much to process. “Will you tell them?”
    “I’ve got to get to the Tsunami Warning