H.E.A.T. Book Bundle (H.E.A.T. Books 1-3)

by Nicola Claire

  And he was a popular guy. Both professionally and personally. If he could only apply that charisma to a mainstream job, the kid could be a high flyer. But he loved what he did and never showed any inclination to go straight.

  I found him at Starbucks, on the corner of K Road and Mercury Lane. Sitting in the middle of a group of enthusiastic and lavish young men, lording over the proceedings, which seemed to be assessing every male who walked in through the glass doors.

  His eyes picked up on me immediately, even before the door slid shut at our backs, but moved off my unimpressive form and surveyed the much more presentable male at my back. Before we'd even made it across the shop floor his posse had noticed Damon as well.

  "A nine point five, for sure," one of them supplied.

  "Too straight. Loses a mark just for the fact he's with a chick," another countered.

  "Nah, she's good camo," one more suggested. "Makes him stand out like a lickable lollipop at a candy store."

  Eagle smirked, his eyes returning to mine. He didn't correct his compadres.

  "Keen," he greeted. "Slummin' it?"

  I wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to my clothing or the locale. I chose not to comment.

  "Need a word," I said with a nod of my head and walked to an empty table across the way. Damon sat down beside me, fussing with his jacket sleeve, either because he was uncomfortable being scrutinised, or trying to improve his score out of ten.

  I pressed my lips in a thin line so as not to smile.

  Eagle slid into a chair beside Damon, moving the seat closer at the same time. He leaned in, breathed deeply, eyelids fluttering dramatically.

  "Ralph Lauren? Or Armani?" he asked, lounging back in his chair and affecting a languid pose.

  I raised my eyebrows at Eagle, not impressed with his little act.

  "Armani," I replied for Damon, making him turn his head and offer me his own smirk. "Heard anything of interest lately?" I asked, trying to get Eagle to focus.

  He shrugged. "Y'been busy. Word is y'out of a job."

  I snorted. "Would I be here if I wasn't getting paid?"

  Eagle smiled slowly. It was too knowing for a kid his age.

  "Detective, ya couldn't keep away." Unfortunately it was true.

  I didn't reply, just added, "Any messages come through for me?"

  "Messages? Are ya s'pectin' one?" he returned.

  "Maybe." My turn to shrug.

  Eagle left me hanging for a long moment, then shook his head. "Nothin' to report."

  "You sure?" If Carl didn't contact me through Eagle, then how? And I was certain Carl was wanting to get in touch.

  The messages. The security camera footage. He wanted me to come out and play.

  Well, Old Man. Here I am. Where are you?

  "I'm sure, Keen. I wouldn't lie to yous," Eagle offered, voice low and serious, the act long gone. "Whatcha gone and done, anyway? Why're ya flavour of the month?"

  "Am I?" I asked and received that Eagle non-committal shrug in reply.

  "Y'name keeps poppin' up," he admitted. "Can't tell ya why." He seemed put out by that fact. Understandably. Eagle had a reputation, and I could hardly pay him well if he had nothing to impart. "But someone's askin' after yous. They're just not askin' the right people."

  I didn't like the sound of that.

  "Purposely avoiding you and your gang?" Damon asked, the first time he'd ever participated in a conversation while I was questioning an informant. I was momentarily surprised he'd overstepped the mark, so took too long to recognise the significance of his observation.

  "Maybe," Eagle replied, eyeing Damon with obvious interest. "Maybe I been too busy."

  "Cut the crap, Eagle," I chastised, bringing the boy back on target. "Who have they approached?"

  Eagle's eyes swung back to me, holding a hell of a lot more intelligence than your average street worker.

  "Mainly they been houndin' Carl's," he finally said, the delay in his words carrying far more import than usual.

  Or perhaps that was because the information was noteworthy.

  "Paying well?" I asked, working on automatic now. My gut pushing me towards a conclusion I couldn't yet see.

  "Yeah," Eagle agreed. "Better than you."

  "Any idea who?"

  "Too clever for me, Keen. Too clever for me."

  Which meant they were using intermediaries or covering their tracks with great care. Eagle would have caught wind of an identity had they not.

  "And they've definitely been asking about me?" I queried, just to be sure my instincts weren't firing off blind.

  "Like I said," Eagle began, "flavour of the month."

  "All right," I replied, nodding my head, lining up the dots. "Take it easy, huh," I offered, placing my hand down on the table's surface and waiting for Eagle to lean forward and rest his palm on top.

  He did, holding my gaze, and as we both moved, him taking the note I'd had folded underneath my fingers, he said, "You take it easy, Keen. Would miss ya, if y'didn't come 'round no more."

  Then he was gone and miraculously so was his merry band of men.

  Damon and I sat silently for a while, letting the hubbub of a busy café roll over us as we both contemplated Eagle's words. This may have been because of Carl, but there was no denying now that it revolved around me.

  "He's really protecting you, isn't he?" Damon remarked.

  "Who? Eagle?" I obtusely offered, knowing damn well he was referring to Carl.

  "You know who I mean," he murmured, barely audible above the coffee machine grinding beans in the background.

  "He wouldn't have to, if he hadn't have faked his own death," I pointed out, standing from my seat and walking toward the counter. As we were here, might as well fuel up with caffeine. I had a feeling this was going to be a very long day.

  Caramel macchiato in hand, we walked back to my car. I didn't wait for Damon to ask, "What's next?"

  "I've been thinking..." I started.

  "A dangerous pastime," Damon quipped, making me smile..

  "...of the only other place connected to Carl that I ever go."

  "And where's that?" Damon asked, looking over the top of my car as we'd arrived.

  "Purewa Cemetery," I said on a breath of heavy air.

  "Good call," Damon replied, steadily. His eyes never leaving my emotionless face, understanding written all over his.

  I nodded. It was the only location I could think of that Carl would connect to 'us'. Of course, every time I'd been there, I'd talked to a memorial plaque on the wall and not him. But I couldn't help wondering if he'd been nearby. Watching. Waiting. Wanting to shake some sense into me.

  I slipped into the car and without allowing myself more time to reconsider, headed towards Meadowbank and the large cemetery there.

  "So," Damon said into the silence of the sedan. "Eagle's info..." he left the sentence open.

  "Yeah," I replied, not answering at all. I didn't need to, Damon got it.

  Whoever hired the informants to take me out, was the one Eagle had said was asking around about me as well. Carl's informants. About information they thought I knew. Who would approach narks on the street? Who could get close to them? Most police sources are very cagey about who they snitch to. Dollars talk, but every one of them knows to pick and choose. So, I could only assume, this person of interest was known to them. How? What was the connection?

  It seemed we were taking one step forward and two steps back.

  I pulled into Purewa and turned off the car. Parking was right next to the memorial area, a covered walkway with shiny brass plaques on a pristine white wall. It was some distance from the Crematorium itself, set up in a tranquil area meant to soothe. There was nothing relaxing about coming here. At least, there never had been for me. I'd sought comfort, looking at inconsequential words on a tiny square of brass. I hadn't found any.

  We walked across the grass towards the plaques, my eyes scanning the environment in a way they hadn't ever before. Where would
he hide? Was he even here? I noted security cameras, old style rotating ones, that scanned an area and then swung away to cover somewhere else. I counted to thirty while it was angled away from the Memorial Wall.

  Half a minute to be unobserved.

  I knew exactly where the message would be.

  I walked down the row, glancing anywhere but at the names of those who came before Carl's. His was one of the more recent additions, right down the end, still covered by security cameras, but farther away from the road. A hedge sat ten feet further on from the end of the covered area. A good place to retreat to when the camera lens returned.

  I stopped next to Carl's plaque, not looking at it, but observing the area from someone else's point of view. I'd always been too emotional when I came here. Not Detective Keen, but Lara or Sport. I assessed the area with completely new eyes for once, realising how damn easy it would have been to get the drop on me.

  Carl didn't want me dead, though. He was trying to save my life.

  By hiding from me.

  But not anymore.

  I turned towards the plaque, Damon coming up on my right hand side and seeing the graffiti at the same time I did.

  ESR673

  "What the hell does that mean?" he asked, lifting a finger to rub at the black spray paint. It came away clean. The message had been here long enough to dry.

  "How long does it take spray paint to dry?" I asked, pulling my cellphone from my pocket and dialling in the Police Communication's number.

  "It's not enamel," Damon supplied. "So, five minutes to touch, completely within an hour."

  I glanced around the area again, knowing Carl wasn't here, but unable to stop myself.

  "Comms, Kathy," came the voice down the line.

  "This is Detective Lara Keen. Can I have a QV, please?"

  "QV?" Damon whispered in question. I mouthed, "Query Vehicle."

  "Go ahead, Detective," Kathy chirped.

  "Echo-sierra-romeo-six-seven-three."

  "Standby." I waited, tapping my good toe on the concrete beneath my feet. "That comes back as a 2014 black Jaguar F-Type R Coupe registered to a Simon Aaron Kahui. No tickets issued. Would you like a QP?"

  "Yes, please," I rasped, already well aware of who Simon Kahui was, but a Query Person would give me any outstanding warrants.

  Not that this person would be wanted for arrest.

  Not yet.

  I put my back to Carl's plaque, it was a mockery now, and looked out over the immaculately kept lawn to the headstones in the distance. A couple were paying their respects at one, a gardener was tending another further on. No one else stood out.

  Simon Aaron Kahui. Now why would you write that, Old Man?

  "You there, Detective?" Kathy from Comms asked.

  "Yes, go ahead."

  "Male. Maori. Date of birth: June 27, 1965. No prior arrests, no outstanding warrants. Last known address is 48 Cliff Road, St Heliers Bay, Auckland. There is a note attached," Kathy added. "Oh, do you know who he is?" she asked, with increased interest.

  "Yes," I replied, voice tight. "Auckland City's Crown Prosecutor." And then I hung up.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "Pay attention, Sport. Don't fucking fall asleep on the job."

  What the hell was going on?

  "Come on," I said to Damon, eyes scanning the area as I pocketed my cellphone, and started back to the vehicle.

  "What have you found out?" Damon asked.

  "In the car," I snapped, not wanting to talk about this in the open where anyone could be watching unobserved.

  I had no doubt Carl had sprayed that license plate number on the memorial wall while the security cameras were turned away, not that I needed confirmation that the message was from him. No, I just needed a translator. What the hell, Carl? The Crown Prosecutor? He was one of us.

  Somehow, though, that rang a little too close for comfort. Carl was one of us. The informants were an extension of us. And now a crown solicitor, one of sixteen appointed throughout the country by the Solicitor-General to prosecute major indictable criminal offences, was implicated as well.

  I shook my head, unlocking the car, and did a quiet last minute survey of the surroundings. He could be here, watching. I wouldn't know. He'd wait until I'd figured out this last message before he made a move. But I had a feeling that Carl was about to perform his final act.

  Just what would it be?

  I slipped into the car and started it before Damon had buckled up. I had to get away from here. I planned to never come back again, if I could help it.

  "OK, what's got you so on edge?" Damon demanded, clearly I wasn't hiding my reaction well.

  I sucked in a deep breath to settle my nerves and pulled out onto St Johns Road.

  "That was a license plate number," I finally said.

  "I gathered that. Query vehicle," he replied, emphasising the last word.

  I rubbed a hand across my eyes, feeling the tension mount. Damon remained silent, maybe aware I could do without the smart comments right now.

  "It belongs to Crown Prosecutor Simon Kahui," I advised.

  Damon whistled. "Holy fuck, no wonder Carl has remained hidden."

  It was definitely not what I had expected Damon to say. It surprised me so much that I almost ran up the backside of a car in front of us that had stopped for the roundabout up ahead.

  I slammed on the brakes, making us both jerk forward against our seatbelts. I let a startled breath of air out, Damon clung to the handrail for grim death, jaw clenched shut tight.

  "Sorry," I managed. "Ah, why did you say that?"

  "Obviously not what you were thinking," Damon guessed.

  I shook my head to say no.

  "It's just that, if this involves Auckland's chief crown solicitor then it has a far reach. The Crown Law Office works closely with the Police. If there's an issue within its walls, then someone outside of it is helping to cover."

  My fingers tightened on the steering wheel and I eased off on the brake to negotiate the intersection in front of us. I didn't say a word until I was on the other side and able to pull over and park the car safely. I couldn't drive and think at the same time. Not with this.

  "The King spill-over case unearthed an awful lot of people who led seemingly exemplary and above board lives," I said, into the silence of the car. "All sucked into Declan's King criminal world. Carl was working on that case before..." I didn't finish the sentence, my mouth went too dry.

  "OK," Damon said, I'm unsure if that was to calm him or me. "Let's say Simon Kahui is involved." I made a strangled sound. "We have to assume that's what Carl knows. What the person behind the informants being hired to kill you thought you knew. It makes sense, Lara. Doesn't it?"

  I did not want to agree, but the writing was on the wall. I managed not to laugh at that pun. I was thinking it wouldn't have been pretty.

  I scrunched up my hair, lifting it off my neck and tipped my head up to the roof of the car, eyes closed.

  "Anyone inside Auckland Central could be involved," I mused.

  "And Carl obviously doesn't know who, otherwise he would have played this better."

  "He would have approached Hart directly," I pointed out, glancing across the space to Damon. "He suspects him." I couldn't see it. Inspector Hart was as straight as an arrow.

  "Or just doesn't know for sure and is playing it safe," Damon argued. "But who does he trust? You."

  "Why wait this long? He's been gone four months."

  "I don't know, Lara. You're going to have to ask him."

  Oh, fuck.

  "I've gotta tell Pierce," I said.

  "Do you?"

  "He's my senior officer and we'll need back-up."

  "Back-up? Why?" Damon let out a curse. "You're not thinking of confronting Kahui, are you? If this all rings true, he's out for your death."

  "I haven't got a choice," I hissed. "Carl is already on his way there."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Because that message wa
s an invitation. He would have waited until I saw it, comprehended it, and then followed the lead."

  Come on, Sport. Get with the programme. Read the clues. Follow the leads. The evidence talks, Lara. You just have to listen.

  "I have to call this in," I said, heart heavy. "Pierce will know what to do."

  Because I sure as hell didn't want to be the one to make this decision. We had to stop Carl before he killed again, I knew that much. But then what? And what about Kahui? This was a fucked up mess waiting to turn into a clusterfuck.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket as Damon said, "The Solicitor-General picked up on something in the case files. That's why he had the Crown Prosecutor look into the evidence again."

  "Then why would the Crown Prosecutor get Pierce to go through it? That's too much of a risk."

  "One, he couldn't get you to do it, you knew Carl too well. And two, it tied up the senior detective on the informant murder cases. And, going out on a limb here, he was pretty sure Pierce wouldn't find anything, because he'd already covered his tracks before he handed it over."

  I sighed, swiped the screen of my phone and dialled Pierce.

  "What you got for me, Keen?" he said, voice gruff but upbeat over the speaker on the phone. I'd left it open for Damon to be part of this too.

  I needed his support.

  "Pierce," I replied, and maybe it was the way I said his name, or maybe Pierce was starting to know me well by now, because he told us to wait and I heard him move from a loud area to a more private, quieter one.

  "OK, tell me what you've got."

  I outlined what we'd found to date, sticking to the facts and evidence only. But Pierce - and part of me had been hoping he wouldn't - came to the same conclusions as us.

  "How far away are you from St Heliers Bay?" he asked, after he'd run out of expletives to use.

  "Ten minutes," I offered.

  "I'll be ten behind you." My shoulders sagged. We'd been the given the go-ahead to move on Kahui's address.

  "Are you bringing anyone else in on this?" I asked.

  "Not yet." Fuck, we were on our own, too.

  "This could backfire," I felt compelled to point out.

  "Probably will. Cover your arses, if you get the chance. But do your job."