Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  Her unforgettable face had gone into that neutral expression he recognized from so many years of knowing her: an expression that hid her thoughts and feelings, a blank mask that shut him out. “Who did you say sent you? Marcella or Jake?”

  “I don’t know anyone named Jake. Marcella called and asked a pretty big favor.” Some of his irritation at the disruption this trip had caused showed. “She led me to believe it was a crisis.”

  “I’m not about to leave for anything to do with Assan Ang. I’m in the middle of a different kind of crisis.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t kill your ex?” Alika could feel his neck get hot at her determined tone, at the lack of warmth or appreciation for the hassle of this trip, and for his angst in having to see her again.

  “I killed him, yes. But I won’t go to jail for anything to do with him, no matter what the DA says.” Sophie breathed hard, that indifferent mask slipping as her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes flashing. “He was going to torture and kill me. It was self-defense.”

  “Of course it was.” Alika scowled, shook his head. “I know more than most what a monster you married.”

  Sophie cast her eyes down. Her lashes made shadows on her cheekbones. Damn…that scar just made her look more dangerous and sexy. Her long-fingered, golden-brown hand stroked Ginger’s head. He glimpsed the Thai tattoos hidden on the insides of her arms. “I’m sorry. Again. For what Assan did to you.” Her voice wavered. She lifted her eyes. “I will never say it enough.”

  “And it’s not your fault. Assan hurt both of us. Thank you for killing him.”

  Their gazes met and held. He went still. God, she was beautiful. Inside and out, scarred and amazing and beautiful.

  Ginger thrust her nose rudely into his crotch, breaking the spell. He pushed the dog’s head aside with a laugh. “Hey, girl, mind your manners. This is a weird conversation, Sophie. Why don’t you hop in the chopper and tell me all about killing that bastard ex of yours? We need to pick up more fuel in Kapa’a, but I can buzz you right back over to Oahu after that.”

  “No.” Sophie shook her head, frowning. “There’s a kid missing here. He’s trapped underground, and I can’t leave until I get him out.”

  Alika frowned. “Is this the crisis you were telling me you’re involved in? What’s going on?”

  She told him a sketchy tale of a hysterical, drug-addled mom, the strange, cultish leader of a gang of runaways, a lava tube and a song heard through stones. “I think this boy’s alive, trapped under those rocks where I heard the singing.”

  Alika glanced at the Dragonfly. “I can use my radio and call this in.”

  “Why don’t you do that? But no, I can’t leave until I show the first responders where I heard the singing. I’m going back to the rocks where I heard the voice, and I’m going to try to find a way to reach him. I don’t want to draw attention to myself. And just so you know, out here, I’m Sandy Mason. And this is Gracie.” Ginger wagged her tail, panting happily.

  “You can tell me why you’re traveling under an alias later, ‘Sandy.’ Hang on while I call the first responders. We’ll see what we can get going for this kid.”

  Alika unlocked the Dragonfly and turned on the radio. He called in the request for help, all the while watching Sophie pace like a cat, her gaze searching the area as if watching for threats—or signs of the missing boy.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sophie could feel Alika’s gaze burning a hole in her back as she forged down the trail ahead of him, heading back toward her camp. She’d let Ginger off her leash, and the dog trotted ahead, tail waving. No matter what bizarre occurrence was going on in her insane life, Ginger injected a note of normality and humor into every situation. Fixing her eyes on the dog’s tail helped Sophie sort the riot of emotions she’d felt at the sight of Alika getting out of the helicopter.

  Her former MMA coach was just as handsome and physically arresting as she remembered. His square, high-browed face broke into a surprised smile at the sight of her, golden brown eyes searching hers before he seemed to suddenly remember how they’d parted, shutting down, his full mouth thinning out and going cold.

  Those shoulders! Alika must spend hours every day working out or paddling. He moved well, considering the shape he’d been in when she’d said goodbye to him after that near fatal beating, but walking toward her, she spotted a hitch in his stride that hadn’t been there before.

  Knowing that she was the one who had cost him so much still wrung her heart.

  And now he had come all this way to fetch her, getting involved in her personal drama at Marcella’s request.

  Marcella must be angry at Sophie’s departure with no word. “Pissed as hell, is more like it!” Marcella’s voice supplied in Sophie’s head. But right now, Sophie refused to think about the reason Marcella had gone to such lengths to track her down. She didn’t have time for that—because the boy didn’t.

  Finding Nakai was what was important. The child couldn’t last long down in the dark. Every time she imagined what he was going through, her gut tightened with her own memories.

  Sophie pushed aside a wayward guava branch, then a sheaf of overgrown ferns, trying not to let them recoil and hit Alika. “It’s not far, now.” She should ask him about his life since the last time she saw him, perform some social niceties. Sophie struggled for words. “You look recovered from your injuries. Are you all right?”

  “I get by. Not into the MMA scene anymore, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t know. I like solo sports now. Paddling my single man canoe. Surfing. Diving. Anything out in nature.”

  Alika’s familiar voice, for years such a source of friendship and encouragement, still made her insides feel warm.

  “Foul breath of a water buffalo,” Sophie cursed under her breath. She wished she could call up Lei or Marcella and talk it over—figure out how to turn off those parts of her body and emotions that were responding to him…because she was done with men. Forever.

  “What did you say?”

  He must have heard her muttering. Sophie raised her voice but didn’t turn, keeping her eyes on the jungle path. “Thank you for coming all this way. But I’m not sure I’ll go back with you, even after we find the boy.”

  “Why not?” Alika sounded startled.

  “I won’t do time for Assan, no matter what.”

  “Until you go back, you won’t know what the DA’s thinking. And if you keep running without even appearing for your deposition, they’ll issue a warrant for sure.” There was definitely a note of concern in Alika’s voice.

  Did he still care?

  But this was not about that. This was about whether or not they could find Nakai.

  Alika had called the first responders from his radio, and supposedly a search and rescue team were on their way. She wasn’t even sure which agency had sent the team. “When you called for help, did they already know about the missing boy? Nakai?”

  “No, they hadn’t heard he was reported missing. I asked, because you told me the mother was the one who alerted you to his situation. But they had no other reports.”

  “That is odd. Enola seemed so determined to get help.” Sophie kicked a large dried coconut out of the path. “We have to walk past a permanent encampment. I don’t want to say anything about what we are doing. The people seem suspicious of outsiders.” She glanced over her shoulder at Alika, and met his eyes. Her heart rate jumped. Even the way he’d ignored her overtures over the last year had not killed feelings based on the friendship and respect they had built up over so long a time in their coaching relationship, and that had formed during that brief time they’d been dating.

  She still felt something for him. Damn it!

  They reached the jungle encampment. The villagers, going about their business of fixing food, fire making, and other chores, looked at them but continued their activities with no outward hostility or withdrawal as Sophie and Alika continued on by.

  Sophie was relieved not
to have to interact. After their leader, Tiger, took her up to the cave where the “lost boys” lived, she had no idea what the people were saying or thinking about her.

  Her tent remained undisturbed in its hidden spot.

  “Good campsite choice. No one can see you from…anywhere.” Alika grinned. His dimple was still adorable.

  “The only reason you found me at all was that I came to you.” Sophie could hear how stiff and haughty she sounded, and cringed inwardly. “I heard the chopper and I went to see if it was a first responder for the boy.”

  “I’m well aware.” His voice was dry. “I had already stopped in two places looking for you before I got to the waterfall area. I was about to leave after that.”

  Sophie tied Ginger to a sturdy guava tree near the campsite, filling the dog’s lightweight travel bowl with water. The Lab drank thirstily as she looked up at Alika. “I know it cannot have been easy to come all this way and look for me. Break the silence between us. I understood after you ignored my texts. You don’t want to be involved with me, so this must have been difficult.”

  “Sophie.” Alika wrapped a big hand around her biceps and squeezed, a friendly gesture from their coaching days. “I wanted a clean break. It’s what we both needed at the time. But I would never ignore a friend in need.”

  A friend. “You’ve been friend-zoned,” Marcella said in Sophie’s head.

  Sophie made herself smile. “We understand each other, then. Thank you. Let’s go find this boy.”

  Ginger gave a protesting yip at being left behind, tugging at her leash. She settled, looking guilty, when Sophie turned to scowl at her.

  A smile tugged at Alika’s mouth. “You’ve got your hands full with that one.”

  “She’s got a mind of her own, as Americans say.” Sophie pushed through a clump of ferns, headed for the outcrop of rocks where she’d heard the singing sounds. “But she’s good company. Impossible to feel lonely with a dog like her.”

  “So…you’ve been lonely?”

  Did she hear a hesitant note in his voice?

  “Not really. I was with someone this last year. But it ended badly. Worse than us.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Alika’s voice behind her was stiff and chilly.

  Sophie concentrated on finding her way to the outcrop. “I’m unlucky in love. I’ve given up trying. Ginger and I are fine.”

  “And I haven’t dated since I left Oahu. Too busy rebuilding my business and getting back my health.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Alika.”

  “Quit apologizing. Please. You killed that homicidal maniac and did us all a favor.”

  Sophie glanced back. Alika’s gaze was hard and steady. “I hope the Honolulu District Attorney sees it that way.” She looked ahead and spotted the stone outcrop. “Right over there!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Marcella shone the beam of her flashlight around the interior of a master bedroom that, this time, hinted at the personality of its owner. A vivid, slashing abstract painting filled one wall. A dog bed beside the king-sized bed told the tale of a canine pet.

  Marcella put her hands on her hips. “The Ghost lived here, not there.”

  The stench of smoke and fire suppressant was still heavy, but when Marcella hit the lights, the power was on in this apartment. She flicked off her torch and walked through the bedroom into the hall.

  Beside the bedroom was another door. She opened it and lifted the light switch, drawing a sharp breath. “Aha, Mr. Ghost. I’ve got you now.”

  With silver-gray walls and thick, sound-absorbingly dense carpet on the floor, the office was starkly utilitarian. One wall was lined with a long desk that held two workstations, each containing three monitors. A Bowflex machine took up another wall, along with a weight set, a pull-up bar, and a treadmill set at an extreme slant.

  “So this is where you worked your magic, Connor-Todd-Sheldon-whoever-you-are. I can see you and Sophie here, clicking away on these monitors and hopping up and down for your infernal exercise breaks. You both are freaky.”

  Marcella took out her phone and called SAC Waxman. “Sir, I need you to come down here to the Pendragon Arches and look at something. I need help bringing in several computers. I have found where Todd Remarkian really lived and worked, for starters.”

  While Marcella waited for her boss and the FBI’s crime scene backup, she prowled the second apartment looking for clues as to the occupant’s whereabouts. She combed through the clothing in both bedrooms, the bureaus, and even the bathroom items. Everything was neat as a pin and nothing told her anything about where the man might be.

  Still, if a harvest of DNA verifying the identity of the body was to be found, it was here. The corpse found in the other apartment had been identified as Todd Remarkian by dental records, and though the body had yielded DNA of course, there hadn’t been a definitive sample to measure it against. This “secret” apartment had to have something they could use to rule out the body they’d cremated, and confirm that Remarkian wasn’t really dead. And then she’d be one step closer to pinning the Ghost identity onto Sheldon Hamilton.

  Marcella was sneezing convulsively from the fumes by the time the CSI team arrived, with Bateman, SAC Waxman, and Ken Yamada in tow. “I have to update you on a lead I’ve been pursuing,” she said as the three agents took in the computer area, wide-eyed. “Agent Bateman, we need the hard drives off of these computers taken in, copied and analyzed. You can get on that while I show our SAC and Agent Yamada the rest of what’s here.” She sneezed again. “And I think we should talk out in the hall. I’ve had about all I can handle of this toxic atmosphere.”

  Bateman nodded, round blue eyes gleaming as he cracked his knuckles and set down a toolkit.

  “I’m on it.” The doughy young man was clearly impressed by a setup that would be catnip to any computer nerd.

  She led the other agents through the bedroom into the hall and shut the door. “Whew, I hate breathing this air. Glad you guys brought along particle masks, at least. I’ll keep this quick and we can talk more down at the station—but, operating on information I got from Sophie Ang, I found this mirror apartment.” She briefly recapped what Sophie had shared at Todd Remarkian’s memorial. “Sophie was angry enough at seeing Sheldon Hamilton there to finally break silence about his elaborate double/triple-life as the Ghost. She told me that Hamilton was actually Remarkian, and that the body discovered in the explosion was a cadaver he’d stored in case he needed to ditch that identity.”

  Ken Yamada’s sharp brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully, even as Waxman’s steel blue ones widened with anger. “Sophie withheld information on a criminal investigation!”

  “Yes, she did. Because she was personally involved with the perp. And now she might be pinned with a murder rap while she’s gallivanting off wherever she went.” Marcella sneezed. “I’m glad you came, Ken, because you’re the expert on the Ghost. We should work closely together on this and try to get some DNA out of this apartment and match it to Sheldon Hamilton.” Marcella’s phone rang. She pulled the device out of her pocket and glanced down, her eyes widening as she looked up to meet Waxman’s gaze. “Speak of the devil. Sheldon Hamilton’s calling me right now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Ghost waited impatiently as Scott’s phone rang, watching the FBI agent through the video surveillance cam in the ceiling of Pendragon Arches. She finally answered. “This is Special Agent Marcella Scott.”

  Sophie’s friend sounded out of breath. He could see why: she’d been fumbling to turn on a recording and tracking app on her phone before she took his call.

  Ambivalent and guarded, Connor stroked the small goatee decorating his chin, pressing the adhesive down firmly as he watched SAC Waxman, whom he recognized from the Bureau’s staff roster, follow her into the hall to eavesdrop. The two hunched over the phone just outside his former apartment.

  “Agent Scott. This is Sheldon Hamilton returning your call,” Connor said, adopting that ide
ntity’s urbane manner.

  The overhead cam distorted his view of Marcella. She was obscured by a particle mask, gloves, and booties, and she shucked the gear impatiently, hitting the speakerphone feature on her phone and holding it out toward Waxman. “Mr. Hamilton. Thanks for returning my call.”

  A tiny spinning skull in the corner of Connor’s feed marked her phone’s attempt to trace his call, but he was using computer voice transmission and had multiple VPNs masking his location, so he wasn’t worried that she could locate him—and in addition, he was airborne.

  He glanced out the window at brilliant midday clouds. “How can I help the FBI today?”

  “I’d like you to come in for another interview to talk about Sophie Ang and your relationship with her.”

  “I told you already that I have no relationship with her. I thought we cleared that up in our last discussion, that rather rude interview after my partner’s funeral.”

  “Listen, buster.” Connor could hear the anger in Marcella’s short breaths, see it in her rapid pacing. “We both know you did a number on Sophie.”

  “Buster? What is this, 1950?” Connor gave a relaxed chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Waxman waved at Marcella to pause, slow down, but clearly Connor had tripped Marcella’s temper as the woman went on. “We found your secret lair, Sheldon/Todd whoever-you-are, and it’s only a matter of time until we find your DNA in this apartment. I almost didn’t believe Sophie when she told me that you had a double, even triple identity—but this place backs up her story. Things would be much easier for all of us if you’d just come in and tell us what the hell you’re up to.”