Wired Ghost: Vigilante Justice Thriller Series (Paradise Crime Thriller Book 11)
Page 22
“Bring a feather duster, broom, and pan, Kupa,” Pim Wat said. “There’s been an accident.”
“Right away, my lady.” The maid’s footsteps hurried away.
Pim Wat finally shut her eyes.
She could meditate now, sitting in outward stillness, and plan her escape.
Marcella
Four weeks after Wired Ghost
Marcella shut the door of the office at Fight Club, and turned to face her friend. “Did you wand the room for bugs?”
“I did.” Sophie rose from the chair behind the battered metal desk, a relic from a time when the now prosperous gym had been small and struggling. She held a device in her hand as she approached Marcella. “Extend your arms, please.”
Marcella rolled her eyes. “Really? There’s no room in this outfit for anything but my tits.” She extended her arms and allowed Sophie to sweep the palm-sized device over the exercise bra and tight workout shorts she wore. “I can’t believe we’ve come to this.”
Sophie switched off the handheld detector. “I don’t think you’d intentionally try to entrap me, but there are agents in your office who’d do anything to take me down.”
“Special Agent Pillman of Internal Affairs, you mean.” Marcella made a rude Italian hand gesture. “That man’s a menace, and that’s on a good day.”
Sophie gestured to the leather couch against the wall. “Let’s get comfortable. It’s been too long since we caught up, and we have a lot to talk about.”
“I know. I’m the one who asked you to meet me.” Marcella put her hands on her hips, and ran an eyeball over her friend.
Sophie wasn’t looking half bad, considering she’d lost her fiancé, Jake Dunn, in a volcano-related tragedy only three months before. Prone to depression, Sophie had been known to take to her bed without eating for days at a time. Marcella had feared that Jake’s death, coupled with the departure of Sophie’s daughter and nanny to Kaua`i for their custody month with the child’s father, might have brought on such an episode.
Instead, Sophie’s usually short hair was nearly touching her shoulders in a riot of thick brown ringlets. Her tawny skin glowed, and though there were bags under her eyes, an unfamiliar roundness filled out Sophie’s cheeks, breasts, and hips. “Are you ready for a little sparring? You look like you’re getting soft.”
“Not today.” Sophie sat down on the couch and patted the open area beside her. “Now that we’ve made sure the area is secure, you need to tell me what is going on with this investigation into Connor.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I can, but it isn’t much. They won’t let me anywhere near the case.” Marcella flopped onto the old leather couch, smoothing her sleek ponytail. “I’ve heard whispers around the office indicating there’s an FBI faction that wants to take you into custody in order to bring in Connor—by using you as a combo of hostage and bait. I had to listen at Waxman’s door to get this—and thankfully, he wasn’t in favor.”
Sophie’s honey-brown eyes were concerned. “Who was in the meeting?”
“Pillman and Gundersohn. I’m sure you already know there’s a full-on multi-agency task force out to get the Ghost. With Interpol and the CIA on board, Pillman argued that they could let those guys do the dirty work of picking you up and storing you somewhere, and pretend not to be involved.” Marcella laid a hand on Sophie’s arm, squeezing it to impress Sophie of her worry. “I’m not sure even your dad’s influence is going to be enough to keep you safe. You have to go somewhere. Hide.”
Sophie shook her head. “No. I can’t hide. I’ve lawyered up, as they say. And so far, Bennie Fernandez is worth every penny I’m paying him.”
“That awful little man!” Marcella tossed her head back and laughed, picturing the defense lawyer’s cherubic, Santa Claus appearance and wicked legal aptitude. “Never thought I’d be on the same side as him, but he’s kicked our ass in court a half dozen times. I’m a little less worried about you now.”
“Ever since Connor came out of hiding to rescue Jake and me from the volcano, that task force has been relentless. We’ve been through two full searches of the Security Solutions building. Subpoenas of our records and computers. They’re trying to squeeze Connor by seizing his property and any assets they can find; but he saw that coming a long time ago, and transferred ownership to me. Now I’m the one dealing with all the pressure.” Sophie shook her head. “I wish they’d give it up. He’s untouchable at the Yām Khûmkạn compound in Thailand, and he doesn’t care about any of this anymore.”
“I’ll be honest, Sophie.” Marcella leaned forward and made eye contact with her best friend. “I don’t trust that man, whatever name he’s currently going by, as far as I can throw him. The more time that goes by, and the longer he’s involved with that weird-ass Thai organization, the less I think he has your best interests at heart.”
Sophie looked down. She rubbed the back of her arm. “I know you mean well, Marcella, but Connor and I have a bond. I owe him my life. He’d never betray me or let them take me.”
Marcella bit her lip to keep from responding. She didn’t believe that for a minute. The man who called himself Connor had many names, and many other loyalties. He always had—or he’d have protected Sophie better than just dumping everything, including his dog, on her. “I felt duty-bound, because of our friendship, to warn you. What if the CIA just grabs you, lawyers be damned, and whisks you off? Threatens to torture you, forces you to communicate with Connor so he comes to get you?”
Sophie was still rubbing the back of her arm, an odd habit. “I’ve thought of that. And I do need to do something to deal with that possibility. But hiding isn’t the answer—these organizations work in the shadows. No, I need to stay in the light to stay safe, even though it goes against my natural inclinations.”
Marcella got up in agitation. She stalked over to the water cooler and filled a plastic cup with filtered water for each of them. She handed one to Sophie, eyeing the lovely antique engagement ring her friend wore in memory of Jake. “What does ‘staying in the light’ mean, exactly?”
“Instead of hiding, I need to be even more visible. Involved with the workings of Security Solutions. Surrounded by a security team at home and at the office, 24/7. Going to events on my father’s arm as his plus-one. Occupying an untouchable position by being a United States Ambassador’s daughter. I need to be seen—even in my current condition.” Sophie smoothed her left hand, decorated with that sparkler of a diamond, over her waist. “You’re right that I’m going soft, Marcella. I’m twelve weeks pregnant, and it’s Jake’s.”
“What? No—seriously? Again?” Marcella’s eyes flew open, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could take back the words. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I only meant—how hard it already is for you, as a single mom. Jake’s baby too—oh my gosh, you—you must be . . .”
But Marcella couldn’t imagine Sophie’s situation—not really, and she knew it. She was happily married to the love of her life, Honolulu Police Department detective Marcus Kamuela. Someday they hoped to be parents. She’d never want to have to deal with a pregnancy and a child alone—not only once, but twice.
Jake’s death seemed even more tragic now.
Sophie’s full lips drew into a tight line and her expression closed down. “I expect that kind of response from a lot of people, Marcella, but I didn’t expect it from you.”
“Gah! I’m sorry, darling. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Marcella lifted her hands in a “surrender” gesture. “Jake’s baby. Oh my. His family must be ecstatic.”
“They don’t know. No one knows but Dr. Wilson. And now you.” Sophie’s hand still rested over her abdomen. “This baby is all I have of Jake. All I’ll ever have.” Her eyes filled. “And I can’t help but believe that it’s meant to be, because of that. No matter how challenging the situation is.”
“Oh, honey, of course.” Marcella reached out to hug her friend, but Sophie pushed her away and stood up.
“I think you’d better go. I told Alika I’d check out his computer system and the bookkeeping here at his office.” Sophie’s gaze was already on the computer resting on the desk. Sophie’s ex, Alika, her daughter Momi’s father, owned the gym. Sophie and Alika seemed to be solid friends as they co-parented their two-and-a-half-year-old with the help of Armita, Momi’s dedicated nanny. “Let me know if you hear anything new at the FBI.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t respond the way you wanted me to about your news, Soph, but I’m here for you. I’ll help however I can.” Marcella made a tossing gesture. “Maybe you’ve got spaghetti cravings? I make a mean pasta primavera.”
“That won’t be necessary. Everything’s handled.” Sophie walked behind the desk and sat down, turning on the computer. “Have a good workout.”
Marcella stood still for a long moment, but Sophie didn’t look up.
Marcella’s shoulders sagged. She walked to the door and shut it gently behind her.
She wanted to leave—to run away from this echoing, smelly gym with all its memories, and meet Marcus at home. She’d get a hug, maybe make love—just so she could reassure herself that they were alive and together. That Sophie’s tragedy wasn’t hers.
Her whole being lit up at the thought of being in Marcus’s arms. Safe. Treasured. Passionately desired.
But what kind of friend did that make her?
She’d given Sophie an uncensored negative response when she was the first person other than Sophie’s therapist trusted with the news of her pregnancy. Sheer selfishness to run to her husband for comfort when Sophie had no one.
No. Marcella wasn’t perfect, but she was a better friend than that. She’d stay at the gym, do her workout, and see if Sophie wanted to talk after she was done in the office.
Marcella went over to one of the exercise bikes, got on, and set it for a rigorous mountain climb, keeping one eye on the door. Then weights, still watching for Sophie.
Ninety minutes passed, and eventually Marcella’s Catholic guilt was assuaged by the sweaty workout—but when she finally went to the office and tried the door, it was locked.
The blinds were closed. No light showed in the crack under the portal.
Sophie had left, alone.
Wired Strong will continue in 2020. Watch this page for more information: tobyneal.net/WSwb
Acknowledgments
Dear Readers!
Heavy sigh. *Sniff* Whew.
I honestly didn’t see that coming.
And then…it happened on the page, and it was. . . what was meant to be.
I was on a deadline to finish Wired Ghost, but lost my laptop at the airport on the way to visit family in Hawaii. I lost ten days of work until I returned and could retrieve that laptop! I had to finish the book—and so I stopped trying to plan, and I let the characters dictate the story.
What happened next, from the chapter when the volcanic eruption reached the chamber where Sophie and Jake were trapped, until that very last scene on the beach—was written as the characters themselves revealed it. I laughed, I cried, I jumped with excitement, I shed tears at the end no matter how many times I read it.
It was perfect.
Why was it perfect?
Because this was how Jake wanted his story to end.
Jake was someone who appeared on the paper as a minor character in Wired Rogue #2. I had no great plans for this rude, crude dude, except that he be a foil for Sophie and provide some comic relief. He started out two dimensional, almost a cliché—but his character grew, and changed, and he eventually became his very best self, someone worthy of Sophie’s love.
I came to like him very much, flaws and all— even love him a little bit.
And when I let go of the steering wheel of this story, Jake chose a true hero’s death for himself—which was always his highest aspiration.
Jake will live on. In flashbacks, memories, stories told between friends and family—and in the child he left with Sophie.
I hope you won’t grieve, but will press on with Sophie as she continues to grow into her best self too, and we discover who that is in Wired Strong, #12.
Until next time, I’ll be writing. Much aloha and love,
Toby Neal
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About the Author
Kirkus Reviews calls Neal's writing, "persistently riveting. Masterly."
Award-winning, USA Today bestselling social worker turned author Toby Neal grew up on the island of Kaua`i in Hawaii. Neal is a mental health therapist, a career that has informed the depth and complexity of the characters in her stories. Neal's mysteries and thrillers explore the crimes and issues of Hawaii from the bottom of the ocean to the top of volcanoes. Fans call her stories, "Immersive, addicting, and the next best thing to being there."
Neal also pens romance and romantic thrillers as Toby Jane and writes memoir/nonfiction under TW Neal.
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