Motive ; One Last Day ; Going Viral

by Dustin Stevens

  “Thomas Zall!” a woman’s voice yelled from below. “Thomas Zall, I’m with the HPD. Are you in here?”

  Turning toward the open hallway behind him, Zall paused before shifting back to look at the monitor. No matter how many times Saiki depressed the paddles, no matter how far his son’s body bounced off the bed, there was no bringing him back. A fight that had begun years before was finally over. His son had done everything he could to hang on, to stall while his father figured out a way to bring him back, but in the end he was unable to do so.

  For the first time in his life, Thomas Zall had failed.

  One last time Zall raised his son’s hand to his lips, feeling his clammy skin against his cheek, before releasing it and stepping back, watching as the doctor he had hired to save him fought to do just that. The sound of electricity pulsating in the air filled his ears as the defibrillator tried time and again, each attempt achieving the same result.

  Inch by inch Zall retreated until his back was against the steel table behind him. Only vaguely did he even notice it was there, his senses dulled as he tried to process what he was seeing.

  “Thomas Zall,” the woman called again, her voice close. Zall watched as she moved inside the room, a gun extended in front of her, the barrel aimed at him.

  Turning toward the sound of her voice, Zall moved his hands, allowing them to rest on the table behind him. On his right was nothing but empty table, his fingers sliding over smooth steel.

  To his left were the Heckler & Koch P7’s Danilo had left behind.

  “Thomas Zall, you are under arrest for the murders of four women and the attempted murders of two police officers. Raise your hands above your head where I can see them.”

  Just as Zall had known that prison was no place for Danilo, he knew just as surely that it was no place for him. No amount of money would cover up what he had done, and without William by his side, there was no point in even trying.

  Ignoring the commands, he wrapped his left hand around the base of a P7 and raised it. Again, he could hear her voice ordering him to stop, could see the fear splayed across Saiki’s face, but none of those things registered in the slightest.

  In that moment all he saw was his son, not the shrunken form before him, but the young man standing on the deck that afternoon years before. Laughing, the sun on his face, the wind pushing his hair around his head, he was young and free, without a care in the world. He and his father were going to conquer Wall Street, would no doubt move on to tackle countless other conquests before they were done.

  It was that image that he focused on as his eyes glazed over, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Kalani was not happy about the summons, and had no problem letting Tseng know it. Across the street at Queen’s Medical Center her partner was lying on the operating table, having the connective tissue between his neck and shoulder repaired. At the moment he was just a half hour into what the doctors told her would be a two-hour surgery. Despite there being not one thing she could do in the meantime, she still had no intention of leaving the waiting area, not for a shower or a change of clothes or even a cup of coffee.

  Damn sure not to speak with the governor.

  The first time Tseng had called and told her to meet him, Kalani had hung up on him. With Rip’s bloody prints still smudging the phone in her hand, she wanted no part of Tseng or whatever asinine request he was about to make.

  The second time, she stayed on the line long enough to tell him to leave her alone at least until morning.

  The third and final time, he was smart enough to make the request in person.

  Rip’s blood lined the rims of her fingernails and spotted her shirt as she paced the tiny waiting room, making lap after lap across the tile floor. At first, Kimo, seated in the corner, his own face twisted up in concern, had followed her every move. After a while, he let her pace, sensing it wasn’t the time to talk to her.

  The day had been Hell itself, but that wasn’t what drove Kalani as she walked in an unending circle, afraid that if she sat down, she might not start moving again. Instead, the same three-minute loop played over and over again in her mind. It started with Rip taking the bullet, his body falling backward, framed against the sky. The scene continued as the bullet exited, blood spatter hitting the ground below.

  Unlike the recurring scene she had lived with, the one that had haunted her for so long, this one didn’t end there though. It went on. It continued to his lying in wait, playing possum on their shooter, drawing him near so Kalani could get a clear shot. It encompassed her doing something she was never able to do for Ben, taking down the man who shot him.

  She was still pacing when Tseng walked in, looking every bit as disheveled as she did. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, heavy sweat rings lined his underarms and upper back, his hair in a twisted mop. Bits of dirt and blood speckled his jeans as he walked in, his face relaying the exhaustion they all felt.

  His appearance stopped Kalani where she stood, a tangle of chairs separating them. In the corner Kimo looked on, sitting up straighter, running his hands down the front of his shorts.

  “What are you doing here?” Tseng asked, opening the dialogue with a question directed at the reporter.

  “Uh,” Kimo replied, his mouth dropping open, his head shifting to look at Kalani.

  “Rip called him,” Kalani said. There was no hesitation in her voice, no trace of the deference she had shown the chief just hours before, replacing those feelings with deep resentment, at the events of the last week, of her being the reason Rip was now undergoing surgery. “For whatever reason, as he was lying there shot and bleeding, he felt the need to honor whatever you and the governor’s little game is. Instead of calling for an ambulance, he called Kimo to drive him here.”

  The edge in her tone was evident, though Tseng did nothing to acknowledge it. Instead, he again looked to Kimo. “Thank you.”

  The comment was met with a silent nod as Tseng moved his attention to Kalani. “The governor has requested us in his office.”

  Indignation boiled out of Kalani as she glared at the chief, contempt obvious on her face. “Tell the governor to go to Hell.”

  A weary sigh as he shook his head, Tseng was already moving to the door. “Feel free to tell him yourself. I know I might.”

  Like that, he was gone, headed down the hall, making his way for the exit. Kalani stood and watched, flicking her attention to Kimo, her eyes flashing.

  “Just go,” Kimo said. “I’m not moving, you’ll be back before he gets out.”

  Debating in her mind between not wanting to honor anything the governor requested and not wanting to leave Rip, she nodded her head, wagging the phone in her hand at him. “If anything at all happens, you let me know. I don’t care who it pisses off.”

  The faintest smile crossed Kimo’s face as he nodded, Kalani setting off fast down the hall. The soles of her shoes squeaked against the polished tile as she jogged out through the front door, catching up with Tseng on the corner, the darkened outline of the capitol building looming directly in front of them.

  “Just so you know,” Kalani said, falling in step beside him as they crossed the street, both walking fast, a pair of overhead streetlamps casting yellow light all around them. “I can’t promise I’m going to play nice in there.”

  “How’s he doing?” Tseng asked, offering no comment on the previous statement.

  The question caught Kalani off guard, “He’s going to be okay. The wound wasn’t life threatening, but the bullet did some damage.”

  “That’s a tough place to get hit,” Tseng said, his mouth drawn into a tight line. “Whatever the VA doesn’t take care of, the department will.”

  Kalani couldn’t tell if Tseng was saying these things out of respect for Rip and the situation, or as a means to make her calm down. Either way, she was going to hold him to his words, intent that they ensure Rip was made whole again. It would be her job to help him as much as possible, m
aking sure that his life returned to the peaceful, retired existence it was before she showed up on the North Shore a week before.

  The expansive interior of the capitol held an eerie silence as they walked through the front archway, avoiding the central area and moving straight for the bank of elevators in the corner. Tense silence fell between them as they took the elevator to the top floor, neither saying a word, anger filling the tiny space.

  In less than 10 minutes, Kalani had gone from being singularly focused on the scene at Zall’s to thinking of the situation she was walking into. With the exception of a few moments the night before, she had never even spoken to the governor, a man who somehow had managed to change the course of of her life with his insatiable need for secrecy.

  The previous time they had spoken, Kalani had not been shy about letting her true feelings on the situation be known. This encounter would be no different.

  The muffled sound of voices met their ears as they walked across the deserted fifth floor.

  “Do we knock?” Kalani asked, stopping just outside the huge doors.

  “Nope,” Tseng said, reaching out and jerking the door open, allowing a blinding spray of light to pour out. Side by side they stood silhouetted before stepping inside together, letting the door slam shut behind them.

  It was the first time Kalani had been inside the office since a third grade tour many years before, though the place looked exactly the same. A massive desk dominated one end of the room, offset by a pair of sofas, the outside of the room decorated with Native Hawaiian artifacts. The only difference she noticed was a collection of paintings on the wall, all portraits of the governor posing in various attire.

  Just seeing them made the anger within her rise even higher.

  Standing inside the room, staring back at them, were the same men Kalani had met the night before. On the far left was Allen Wong, dressed as if it were a regular Monday morning at the office, his arms folded across his chest. In front of them was Tim Hall, his thinning hair appearing even more pronounced by the addition of a heavy layer of hair product. His cheeks glowed red as he stood and stared at them, his jaw hanging open.

  On the right side of the room stood Governor Dwight Randle, wearing a pair of shorts and a plain grey sweatshirt, the sleeves too long and hanging down over his wrists. He stood behind the desk, glowering across at them, as if the makeshift barrier somehow made him superior to everybody else in the room.

  In the corner was the security man who had rushed in with Kimo’s phone at the gala, his name one Kalani had heard the night before, but couldn’t place at the moment. A look of complete boredom was on his face as he waited, his hands folded in front of him.

  “What took you so long?” the governor snapped, cutting off whatever tirade was aimed at Hall and directing it toward them.

  Kalani felt her chest constrict, fury swelling.

  “I was securing the scene at the Hawaii Kai location,” Tseng said, his voice meant to let everyone know he was in no mood for a lecture. “An officer was injured and there was an enormous amount of evidence to process.”

  Feeling emboldened by Tseng, Kalani fixed her gaze on the governor. “My partner was shot and is in surgery right now. I felt - feel - like that’s where I should be.”

  Beside her, Hall drew in a sharp breath, the skin around his eyes and mouth tightening a bit. Whether this was meant as a warning to her or his own reaction to anybody appearing defiant in front of his boss, Kalani didn’t much care. Instead, she stood and kept her gaze leveled on the governor.

  There were so many questions she wanted answered, so many things she felt she had more than earned the right to know. The entire thing was such a mess, a stupid combination of the governor’s ego and paranoia.

  A half smile crossed the governor’s face as he stared back at her, condescension in his eyes. “Well, I’m very sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “You mean tonight, or a week ago?” Kalani asked, taking a step forward.

  At the sound of her words the smile slid from the governor’s face. He shifted his attention to Tseng and said, “Last time you were here I had to remind you to know your place as well. You might want to get your girl here on a leash.”

  “No,” Tseng said, his voice just as cold as Kalani’s, “last time I was here you threatened my family and blackmailed me into taking part in your little scheme. You made me drag her into it, too. Forgive us if we’re both feeling unsocial tonight.”

  Kalani knew that Tseng had been pulled in against his will, though it was the first time she had heard that there were threats and blackmail involved.

  “We’ll get right to it then,” Randle said. “Is it over?”

  Something about his tone galled Kalani in a way she couldn’t quite explain. The way he referred to it, the way he jumped right to the end, showed that this was nothing more than a headache he wanted to go away. She and Tseng had both just mentioned injuries sustained, but he didn’t so much as ask about them. All he was concerned with was the final product, making sure the incident was kept quiet, far away from pollsters and roving reporters.

  “It’s done,” Tseng said.

  “You’re sure?” the governor asked, leaning forward and placing his fists on his desk.

  “One of the guards at the house we raided spilled his guts,” Tseng said, his face grim. “He was just a hired hand, had no real loyalty to anybody. ID’d Zall and everybody else involved. Even took us down to the basement laboratory they had set up, got us past their security system.

  “Thing was crawling with evidence. If there was any doubt about who had done it, there wouldn’t have been after an hour in that place.”

  The governor grunted, nodding his head, content with the answer. “And Zall?”

  Kalani stared at the governor before spitting a single word at him. “Dead.”

  He matched the look, meeting her gaze, trying his best to look intimidating, but only managing to infuriate her even more. “You sure?”

  “Very,” Kalani replied. “So are his son, and his henchman, the man who actually committed all those murders. You can sleep easy tonight, there will be no more bodies showing up on your watch.”

  Randle’s nostrils flared as he let it be known that he didn’t appreciate the tone or the insinuation.

  “His private doctor was taken into custody,” Tseng said. “He will be questioned in connection with at least four murders, maybe more, before being turned over to the feds for extradition.”

  Randle nodded once at the information, sliding his gaze over to Hall and Wong. He drew his mouth into a tight line, contemplating what he had just been told.

  With each passing moment, Kalani felt her disdain for him grow stronger. Still he had yet to ask about the condition of the men involved, or if the families of the victims had been contacted.

  “And Mary-Ann Harris?” the governor asked, attention still aimed at his advisors.

  The question, the audacity of the man even thinking it, let alone asking it, was too much for Kalani. She turned to the side, shaking her head in derision.

  Beside her Tseng stared at the governor, not once looking her way. “We’ll pick her up first thing Monday morning. After speaking with her, we’ll decide if any charges should be filed.”

  “And not-so-subtly suggest she bow out of the election,” Randle added.

  The words were too much for Kalani to bear.

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered, moving past Tseng, heading for the door. She could feel the gaze of every person in the room on her back as she went, her hand making it as far as the knob.

  “Young lady,” the governor called as she got there, the same condescension as before in his tone.

  Kalani paused, squeezing the knob so tight her knuckles showed white beneath her skin, before turning back to look at him.

  “I’ve warned you once about your behavior in this office,” the governor said, still leaning forward over his desk, his forehead showing deep red beneath the overhead lights. “
I won’t do it again.”

  Kalani released the knob. She pulled herself back from the door, rising to full height, and ambled back to the desk, every man in the room watching as she went.

  “Can you answer a question for me?” Kalani asked.

  Behind the desk, Randle continued to stare at her, saying nothing.

  “Why did you cut the funding to the stem cell program?”

  The red receded from Randle’s forehead. Glancing over to his advisors, he began to laugh, the sound starting low, gaining energy with each passing second.

  “Is that what all this was all about?” he asked. In the background, Hall and Wong half-heartedly joined in, thin responses born more from appeasement than agreement. Despite their lack of participation, Randle continued to bellow, going until he was forced to wipe moisture from his eyes. “Turns out it wasn’t as popular with voters as I thought it would be.”

  Standing there, watching the man laugh, Kalani thought of everything that had transpired in the last week. She thought of the four lives that were lost, the children who were traumatized by being kidnapped, their teeth extracted. She thought of her partner lying in surgery, of all the secrecy that had shrouded everything.

  She thought of how she had been jerked back into a life she was now certain she wanted no part of, all to feed the political ego of the pint-sized prick across from her.

  The fist was cocked by her shoulder before she even realized it, her entire body coiled tight. Without warning she unfurled it, her arm becoming a piston, driving her middle knuckle into the exposed and unprotected bridge of his nose.

  The laughter died away instantly, replaced by the sound of bone on bone contact. The momentum of her punch pushed her arm out to full extension as he toppled backward, his body landing in his chair, the wheels of it sliding back away from the desk.

  Adrenaline pulsing through her, Kalani stood over the desk glaring down at him, ignoring her busted knuckles. Instead, she focused on the squat man before her, the look of shock on his face as he held his hands to his face, blood gushing down over his lips.