Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  Sophie followed. She paused to photograph each of the posters on the bulletin board with her phone, and the bulletin board as a whole. One small notice in the corner caught her eye.

  LOOKING FOR SOMEONE? Call me! I might know what happened to them.

  A Hawaii cell phone number was listed in tear-off tags at the bottom. Three of the tags were missing. She tore one off, and made it a fourth.

  Jake was likely canvassing the store owner with Julie’s photo as they’d discussed doing. She had time for a quick call to investigate this lead. Sophie walked around the back of the store and took out her cell phone, and called the number.

  Chapter Ten

  Jake reconned up and down the aisles of the store, discharging the spike of anxiety and frustration that Sophie’s words had ignited in him. The shop was a typical rural mom-and-pop place. The shelves were stocked with everything from kerosene to flashlights, with a limited food aisle.

  Why did he care if Sophie uncovered a serial killer?

  Honest answer? Because she might put herself at risk by doing so, and he might not be able to help if she did. If she got into some big solo investigation without him, God knows what danger she might be in. She certainly wouldn’t pause to count the cost to herself.

  Jake was still shaking inside from their talk in the car and confronting his feelings about her. He couldn’t believe she’d brought up sex and propositioned him so matter-of-factly, but it had clarified things for him.

  He was in it for the long haul; he wanted Sophie not just to sleep with, but to be with always. The whole white picket fence enchilada. Being at the party where mutual friends Marcus and Marcella had become engaged a few weeks ago had done something to him, tipped him into thinking of that kind of life, love, and stability.

  “Son of a bitch. How did that happen?” Jake had spoken aloud.

  His gaze focused. He’d stopped somewhere midway through the store, and he was staring at a rack of fishing gear. The bell over the store’s door dinged; he smelled mildew and the dusty scent of bags of beans on the shelves behind him. What a place to be standing when he realized he was in love.

  He would just have to stay with Sophie until this rabbit hole was thoroughly explored, and he was going to continue his current strategy of slow encroachment and seduction. Yep, he was going to wear her down, and hopefully, he’d win her over to care about him like he cared about her. If not, at least he’d given it a hundred percent effort. No one ever accused Jake Dunn of giving up easily.

  A profound sense of relief loosened the knots in Jake’s gut. He wasn’t fighting his feelings for Sophie any more. He’d just stepped up his game to the next level.

  Jake walked back to the checkout counter. A slender Filipino man wearing trifocals and a tonsure of gray hair around a shiny brown pate stacked boxes of Marlboros on the cigarette shelf behind the cash register.

  “Excuse me.” Jake held up his phone, showing the picture of Julie Weathersby. “Have you seen this young woman?”

  “Let me get a closer look.” The man took the phone, blew up the image by expanding it with his fingertips. He gave a regretful shake of the head. “No, I have not.” He looked up at Jake. “Don’t tell me. She’s missing.”

  Jake frowned “That’s right. How about these two?”

  He handed the phone back, showing an image of the two campers they were pursuing.

  “Yah. Those two tweakers came in just this morning. All flush, for once.”

  “For once? What do you mean?” Jake tried not to leap on the man with too much intensity.

  “Those two, they lowlifes. They come and go. I keep a good eye on them when they in the store.” The man’s voice had drifted into pidgin English. He turned away and continued his stacking, as if regretting saying so much. Sophie entered, and came to stand beside Jake.

  “You know where they stay when they’re in this area? We think they might have something to do with this girl’s disappearance,” Jake persisted.

  “For shame. I sorry to hear that.” The man continued his stacking.

  Sophie stepped up to the counter and laid a couple of twenties down. “I’m sure these people have stolen from your store. Here’s a little cash to make up for that. We just want to make sure this couple doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

  The man turned to look at Sophie, and his eyes warmed. He got off his stepstool and pushed the money back to Sophie. “I never like to get involved in anything that could come back on me and my family. We gotta live heah too. But those two, they’re bad news. Maybe you can help get them busted.”

  The storekeeper reached under the counter and drew out a detailed map of the area. “This is Oceanview. If you take this road off to the left . . .” he traced the branching veins of a small artery of road. “There’s a big camp back here, squatters and da kine folks li’dat. Lotta these roads not marked. You take a picture of my map, you be okay finding it.”

  Jake stood back while Sophie photographed the map. She gave the older man a brilliant smile. “Mahalo. And please, keep the money. You have to deal with so much out here, and your store is important to everyone in this area.”

  The man folded the map and tucked the cash into his pocket. “Mahalo to you, miss. I hope you get’um.”

  Jake followed Sophie out of the store. He touched her elbow at the Jeep. “You get to do all the talking from here on out. And nice touch with the money. You’re a fast learner.”

  Sophie blinked. “I really meant it. Rayme and Webb probably stole a lot more than forty dollars’ worth of merchandise from that man. He works so hard, and he’s just trying to make a living.”

  This woman. Jake’s chest was tight as he got into the Jeep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie fiddled with Ginger’s collar as they drove down the bumpy road into the heart of Oceanview. The potholed road was lined with christmasberry bushes, an invasive species from Brazil that had been aggressively taking over many areas on the Big Island. Most of the ground was rough lava, still being tamed by lichen and small, hardy ferns. Small native ohia tree saplings raised silver-green branches, part of the new landscape.

  “I am not certain why they call this Oceanview. I cannot see much ocean from this area,” Sophie said.

  Jake nodded. He had been uncharacteristically reserved since they left the store.

  Sophie’s phone buzzed, and she saw a text from the number she had found on the bulletin board. “Come meet me at Aweo Park, and we can discuss your concerns. Let me know a time that works for you.”

  Sophie held her phone up. “I have an interesting lead here. There was a number on the bulletin board advertising information about the missing people, and the subject just sent me a text message with a place to meet.”

  “That could be something.” Jake shot her a glance. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I do not know, but anyone who claims to know something about the missing people probably has a motive or information worth investigating.”

  “Agreed. Now where are we going? We need that map. This road is getting sketchy.”

  The road had split, but no road marker delineated the fork. Sophie opened her phone photo of the storekeeper’s map and traced their route with a finger. “Take a left here.”

  The need to navigate forestalled any further discussion. In half an hour, they arrived at a crude archway over a dirt parking area. “Travelers’ Rest” was spelled out at the top, hand painted on a section of wood.

  Sophie pointed. “Looks like we’ve arrived. The name over the camping area is a good portent.”

  They drove beneath the archway into a crude parking area marked by painted boulders and filled with ramshackle parked vehicles. Jake jerked his head toward the back seat. “Kevlar back there.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “You’re speculating that we might be venturing into the hunting grounds of a serial, and you’re arguing about wearing Kevlar?”

  Jake was right. Who knew what their qu
estions would unleash? Sophie reached in the back for the gear bag. “I don’t want to advertise wearing this.”

  “Then put your shirt on over it.”

  Sophie bit her lip. “I will. Look the other way and give me some privacy.”

  Jake gave a brusque nod and got out of the Jeep, reaching into the back to grab his vest. Sophie stripped her shirt off over her head, feeling self-conscious in her plain black bra. The area was deserted as she slipped the vest on, tightened the Velcro, and then wriggled her tee shirt back down over it.

  Jake’s naked upper torso caught her gaze through the window as he similarly changed.

  No, she wasn’t looking. It would be wrong to look when she had instructed him not to. But . . . damn. His back was a wall of rippling muscle stippled with scars. Every one of those scars probably told a story of the adventures he’d been through. She loved his stories, and she’d loved touching that warm, solid body the night before . . .

  Sophie tore her gaze away.

  They checked weapons, got their IDs ready, and Sophie let Ginger out of the back, clipping on her leash. “She can’t hurt anything.”

  “Agreed.” Jake shoved his pistol into a hip holster and ran his hands through short dark hair, rearranging its messy spikes. He tugged his shirttail out to cover the gun. “People talk to us more easily with Ginger there. She looks friendly.”

  “And we do not?”

  “No. We look like cops. Let’s stay focused on asking about Webb and Rayme. Work this like a normal canvass.”

  “Do you still think I should take the lead?” The dynamic of Sophie initiating contact and Jake backing her up seemed to work.

  “Yeah. Our line is the truth: we’re wanting to talk to these two campers because we think they might have seen our missing girl. And then we can show Julie’s photo, too.”

  They found a trail leading between rough boulders toward the camp area. They paused to evaluate at the edge of the settlement.

  A central pathway fanned out into rows of crude dwellings made of pallets, plywood, roofing tin, tarps, and transparent plastic. Small, hand-painted signs identified people’s dwellings: Jones. Mikelson. Imua. Rashan.

  “Looks like a real little town,” Sophie said. “I wonder who owns this land.”

  Jake shrugged. “Someone who doesn’t care what’s going on with it.”

  They worked their way through the village of motley homemade dwellings. Most of the residents eyed them with suspicion and denied knowing anything, but halfway through the encampment they encountered a family with several young children. The father scowled. “Yeah, I know where those two are holed up.” He pointed. “Last shack on the left. Watch out, they have a mean-ass dog and a terrible attitude.”

  Sophie and Jake approached the shack with caution.

  A dark, cramped-looking dwelling made of roofing tin and tarps, there was nothing inviting about it. Sophie wondered how well the crude shelter would even keep out the frequent rain.

  The dog they’d been warned about started a barking that unnerved Sophie and made Ginger whine anxiously. Sophie secured the Lab to a nearby ohia tree, straightened her shoulders, and boldly walked forward toward a doorway framed in rough logs. A tarp hung over the crude opening.

  There was nowhere to knock, so Sophie called out instead. “Hello! Anyone home?”

  The dog barked louder. It sounded as big as a tank and just as deadly. A rustling noise inside the dwelling confirmed that it was occupied. Jake took up a position beside her, and she knew that he had drawn his weapon; they’d worked together long enough that she could predict his behaviors.

  Sophie called again: “Hello in there! We need to speak with you!”

  The tarp moved back. The woman Sophie remembered from the campground stuck her head out, scowling. Holly Rayme’s snarled blonde hair didn’t look like it had been touched since the last time they saw each other. “You again. What do you want?”

  “We need to speak to you. Where is your companion?”

  “I got nothing to say.” The woman dropped the tarp and it fell back into place.

  Anger swelled in Sophie. She swept the tarp aside and barged through the doorway, reaching for the woman.

  Her eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the dim interior as she was slammed from the side and knocked sprawling.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hearing a scuffle, Jake thrust an arm through the flimsy tarp doorway to follow Sophie. He swept the covering back to throw light on the scene.

  Sophie was down.

  The dog was tied just out of range, but its snapping, snarling jaws were way too close to her face. The male tweaker, Jim Webb, loomed over his partner, holding a wooden club.

  Sophie lashed out suddenly with a foot, and caught Webb in the knee. The man’s leg buckled and he went down with a cry, landing on the dog. The big pit bull yelped pitifully.

  Sophie rolled out of the way and sprang to her feet, ready for action. Webb lumbered up and rushed her, but Jake saw his chance to help. He stepped in and backhanded the guy with his weapon, dropping him like a bag of rocks. Jake hauled the tweaker up by his armpits and leaned him against the doorway. Webb’s nose dribbled blood, but he was already coming around as a shrieking, demon-possessed banshee rushed Jake from the back.

  Sophie very efficiently stopped the woman with an elbow to the midsection and an uppercut to the jaw. Rayme crumpled, and Sophie hauled the woman by the armpits over to the wall and propped her beside her partner.

  Jake held his weapon on the two. “This didn’t have to be so unpleasant. We just want to know where Julie Weathersby is. Don’t bother telling us you don’t know her. We have an eyewitness who puts the three of you together, partying around a campfire at East Point.”

  Webb shushed the barking dog with a curse. The black-and-white pit bull, scrawny under its swagger, sank to its belly, backing away and whining in distress.

  They couldn’t leave that poor animal here. Hopefully, Sophie would agree. They could at least take it to an animal shelter . . .

  The couple glanced at each other and Rayme twisted her hands together. A gold chain winked on one of her wrists. “We don’t know anything, I swear,” she whined.

  Sophie pointed to the chain. “That bracelet looks new. And I think I see a charm on it. Hand it over.”

  “No. It’s my private property,” the woman said. “And I’m gonna report you for assault.”

  Sophie took out her phone. She held the picture of Julie Weathersby out toward Rayme. “Examine what is on this woman’s wrist. Look familiar?”

  Rayme squinted at the phone, and then covered the chain on her wrist protectively with a hand. “That girl gave this to me. Screw you.”

  “And show us some ID if you’re cops,” growled Webb.

  “We’re not cops.” Jake growled. He was downright eager to inflict some pain on these two. He dropped the tarp, and the room went dim. “It’s your word against ours what went on here, and we can do this easy, or we can do this hard.”

  The couple picked easy.

  Walking back to the Jeep, leading the scrawny black-and-white dog on a rope and carrying the gold chain in his pocket, Jake glanced at Sophie walking ahead. She had just hung up from calling Freitan again to let the detective know the tweaker couple had admitted to robbing Julie Weathersby and dropping her off alone in a wilderness area, which was where he and Sophie were headed next.

  “I hope you’re okay with taking the dog. Tank deserves a better life,” Jake said.

  Sophie laughed. “Of course. You must have read my mind, because Ginger likes him too.”

  Jake kept a wary eye on their six o’clock, glancing back toward the camp as Ginger, tugging at her leash to get close to her new friend, licked the pit bull’s face. “Tank complicates things a bit. We need to take him to the shelter in Hilo.”

  “The area where Rayme and Webb dropped Julie is on the way to Hilo. Not that I think she’ll still be there.” Sophie frowned. “But hopefully someone will have see
n her around there, and we can pick up her trail, at least. I’m beginning to be very worried for Julie Weathersby.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Settling the dogs in the back of the Jeep was a bit of a struggle for Sophie. Tank was confused, trying to jump out of the open area, and Ginger, taking this as a sign to play, tangled their leashes on the back seat. Finally Sophie got the dogs situated, Jake pulled the vehicle out of the lot, and they got on the road.

  Sophie checked her phone. “Freitan texted me that she’s deep into it with the family murder case and can’t respond to pick up Webb and Rayme. She is sending a couple of uniforms out to Travelers’ Rest to arrest them.”

  “That will have to be good enough. Hope Bonnie and Clyde haven’t skedaddled by the time the officers arrive.”

  “Bonnie and Clyde?”

  “Famous male and female outlaw team of the early twentieth century.”

  Sophie sneaked a glance at Jake. A slight smile curved his mouth, and he flexed his hands on the wheel. He radiated a sense of satisfaction. Clearly the contretemps at the camp had energized him. One of his knuckles was bruised from knocking Webb around, and Sophie’s hand felt a little sore, too.

  “Speaking of Bonnie and Clyde.” She cleared her throat. “We make a good team, too.”

  “Agreed.” Jake reached over and lifted her hand to his lips, giving her scraped knuckles a quick kiss, surprising her. “Bonnie and Clyde were more than partners—they were lovers.”

  Sophie pulled her hand away. “You are probably right that we should not fraternize.”

  “Fraternize? I love your nineteen fifties vocab. For the record, I’m all about effective partnerships--in and out of the bedroom.”

  “How are we talking about this again?” Sophie threw her hands up. “Let’s focus on the case. I want to see Julie’s bracelet.”