Wired Ghost

by Toby Neal

  Epilogue

  Five days later

  Sophie ushered Dr. Wilson into her office at Security Solutions. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am, Dr. Wilson, that you came all the way from the Big Island to meet with me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Dr. Wilson looked younger than her years in a flowered wrap dress and low-heeled nude sandals that made the most of her athletic legs. “I was glad to get off the island for a few days. The eruption over there is causing a lot of damage, and everyone is on edge.”

  “I believe it. I’ve been screening the news so as not to get too stressed, myself.” Sophie embraced Dr. Wilson in a welcoming hug.

  The psychologist smelled of something lemony that reminded Sophie of Jake’s favorite citrus aftershave. Another painful memory. When would they stop coming?

  “I’m always happy to work with you, Sophie, and don’t feel too bad about the extra travel. I’ve promised myself a little shopping trip at Ala Moana Center when we’re done.” Dr. Wilson looked around Sophie’s spacious office with its bank of windows, solid executive desk area topped by computer monitors, round work table with chairs, and stylish seating corner. “Where would you like us to sit?”

  “Let’s get comfortable over here on the couch. It’s hard for me to switch to therapy mode in this work setting.” Sophie went behind her desk and closed the sheer drape layer to cut down the sunlight streaming through the windows—and to block the view of anyone trying to spy on them.

  The furniture pieces in the corner area were done in soft, buttery chocolate leather, and faced a low coffee table in native koa hardwood. Dr. Wilson settled herself in a trim armchair facing the couch. She took out a tablet, one of the new, modern ones that converted handwriting to text. “You’re right about changing gears. Environmental cues create expectations that can help open the door to an effective session. But I know you have a lot to talk about, and the choice to do appropriate self-care here is as good as entering my office.”

  “How do you like that device you’re using?” Sophie had fetched a square cardboard package from her desk, and she set the small box in front of her. They made conversation for a few moments as Sophie settled herself, making sure that tissues were handy.

  Dr. Wilson pointed her stylus at the box. “What’s that?” The cardboard package was open at the top, its sealing tape cut. A handwritten address with Sophie’s name and a plethora of postage marked its exterior.

  “I opened it, saw what it might be, and that’s as far as I got before I called you. It’s from Patty, Jake’s sister. But I couldn’t bear to open it any further to see what’s inside.”

  Dr. Wilson didn’t try to comfort Sophie, to rush in with platitudes as someone else might have. She simply sat and waited; her intelligent blue eyes compassionate. “What do you think it might be?”

  “Something that belonged to Jake.” Sophie twisted her fingers together. “I didn’t feel strong enough to look.”

  “Do you feel ready to open it now?”

  “With you here to give me courage, yes.” Sophie leaned forward. She opened the flaps of the cardboard box. Inside, a sealed envelope with Sophie’s name on it lay on top of a small, black velvet bag of the type used for jewelry. Sophie removed the missive and opened the envelope. A dove flying on the front of a simple card brought a prickle of tears to her eyes, and she opened it to see feminine looping handwriting.

  She read the card aloud.

  * * *

  “Dear Sophie:

  Words cannot express how sorry I am for my mother’s and sister’s behavior toward you during Jake’s death and memorial. Even if you hadn’t been engaged, as I believe you were, they never should have treated you so poorly. These ashes are a part of my portion from the funeral home. I want you to have them for whatever ceremony feels right to you in remembering him.

  You would have been a wonderful sister, and that’s why I’m sending you our family ring, too. Jake mailed it to me for safekeeping more than two years ago. I know he wanted you to wear it; you’d have it on right now if he’d had more time on this earth. I hope this gesture makes up a little for the cruelty you experienced.

  I, more than anyone, know how much Jake loved you.

  Your sister, Patty.”

  * * *

  Dr. Wilson reached for the tissues at the same time as Sophie. Their fingers collided, and Sophie pulled out a handful and passed it to Dr. Wilson. They both chuckled a little, as they wiped their eyes.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Sophie whispered.

  “You can. Open the pouch.”

  Sophie took the black bag out of the box. She opened the cord with trembling fingers, and upended it into her palm. The familiar cushion cut diamond ring in its antique white gold setting landed in her palm, along with a walnut-sized Ziploc bag filled with a gray, grainy substance—Jake’s ashes.

  The juxtaposition was too much.

  Sophie sobbed aloud, her hand curled into a fist around the precious items. When the storm had passed, she wiped her eyes. “I love Patty.”

  “I love her, too. What a woman. Now, what is this cruelty she is referring to?”

  Sophie told Dr. Wilson about the events at the hospital, and the ongoing bitterness that Janice and Monica had demonstrated toward her at Jake’s memorial. “To have these items from Patty is priceless. Especially now.” Sophie’s hand slid down to rest on her abdomen. She’d worn a comfortable, body-skimming dress; her skin already felt tender and easily irritated by tight clothing. “I’m pregnant with Jake’s baby.”

  Dr. Wilson’s eyes flew open, and her mouth opened in surprise. “Oh my! What an adventure you’re having!”

  “What an adventure, indeed.” Sophie laughed through her tears. “You always know the right thing to say, Dr. Wilson.”

  “And this is the very best thing that could have happened after the tragedy of Jake’s death.”

  Sophie’s eyes felt so hot and swollen that it was hard to meet Dr. Wilson’s honest blue gaze. “Do you really think so? Because it’s pretty daunting to have a second child with no ring on my finger.”

  “But you do have a ring.” Dr. Wilson pointed to the antique diamond, now resting on the table beside the tiny bag of ashes. “Something you might not know is that I’m a licensed officiant for weddings. By the power vested in me by the state of Hawaii, I pronounce you and Jake legally engaged.”

  Sophie’s mouth quirked up in a smile as she slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand—a perfect fit, just what she’d been missing since the day she and Jake exchanged promises at his hospital bed. “I don’t think that counts for anything, Dr. Wilson, but thank you.”

  “Wait and see. I bet it does. Jake will have left a life insurance policy, something from his army retirement, his Social Security benefits. You might not need the money, but his child is entitled to it. I’ll swear to your engagement’s legal standing in any court of law.”

  Sophie leaned over to hug the psychologist. “Thank you.”

  Dr. Wilson cleared her throat. “This is huge, but there are still a lot of loose ends to the situation you’ve been dealing with. Let’s process that, now, because with any luck at all, what we discussed is only going to get bigger.” Dr. Wilson glanced meaningfully at Sophie’s waistline.

  Sophie filled Dr. Wilson in on the call she had gotten from Raveaux on Phi Ni, bringing her back to Honolulu, and the trap that had been set for Connor. Thanks to Raveaux, she’d warned Connor, who’d moved quickly to get Momi, Armita and the dogs on a plane back to Hawaii. He’d then taken his houseman, Nam, and his wife Kupa, back to the compound in Thailand.

  “By the time the agents raided the island, the place was deserted. I flew back there looking for Momi and Armita, and found that everything had been seized by the Department of Justice. It was a shock at the time—but my new lawyer says it was an illegal seizure. Sheldon Hamilton, the owner of Phi Ni, had deeded it over to me before his death, and the island didn’t actually belong to hi
m anymore. We’re fighting the seizure in court. Ultimately, I expect to win.” Sophie got up and walked over to the credenza against one wall. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

  Paula kept the tea service stocked, and Sophie poured instant hot water from the electric kettle into a pot. She added loose leaf jasmine tea and carried the tray of tea things over to the low table.

  “What’s the status of the multi-agency investigation now? Are you concerned about it, since those two agents tried to interview you here at Security Solutions?”

  “My father got me an excellent defense lawyer, as I said. He’s challenging every move that team makes as far as involving me in the case. So far, I’ve only had to go to one interview with Agent Pillman down at my old FBI headquarters. I took the lawyer with me, and it went exactly nowhere for the FBI.” Sophie poured the tea into their cups through a strainer. “I’m being closely monitored, though. I sweep this office and my house every day for surveillance devices, and still, they keep trying to bug me.”

  Dr. Wilson picked up a cup and blew on the surface of the tea. “What about this character, Raveaux? He seems to have been instrumental in all of this.”

  “Pierre took a tremendous risk in warning me about the raid. He’s also under constant surveillance, and has been threatened with deportation—and worse. I have engaged Security Solutions’ legal team to come up with a plan to try to protect him.” Sophie picked up her teacup, holding the delicate handle, and admired the play of light on the vintage diamond on her finger. “Thankfully, Connor is safe with Nam and his wife at the Yām Khûmkạn compound. I’ve seen its fortifications, and nothing short of an act of war would be able to pry him, the Master, or Pim Wat out of there.”

  Sophie’s tea was finally cool enough for her to take a sip, and she lifted the fragrant beverage to her lips. Her enhanced sense of smell made the flowery scent and taste impossibly sweet and delicious. She met Dr. Wilson’s eyes. “Pim Wat and the Master are the ones the Justice Department is really after. This is far from over, but you could say we won the first skirmish, if not the battle.”

  “Tell me more about Pim Wat and the Master. Last time we talked, Connor had told you they were off somewhere, and the Master was trying to heal Pim Wat from what she suffered at Guantánamo.”

  “Yes, but while I was on the island, Connor brought them to visit. We ‘buried the hatchet’ at Pim Wat’s request.”

  “Given your mother’s profession, I’m not sure that’s an appropriate idiom,” Dr. Wilson said dryly.

  Sophie shocked herself by laughing. Maybe it was all too much, but she laughed and laughed, tipping over sideways on the couch—until the laughter turned to tears. Eventually she sat up and mopped her face with more tissues. “Whew. This is exhausting. I need a nap.”

  “First trimester is hard on the body. Tiredness and mood swings are as common as morning sickness.”

  “I know. This isn’t my first rodeo, as the saying goes.” Sophie straightened up. “My charming mother looked awful. She was completely changed.” Sophie described the scene: Pim Wat’s frailty and changed appearance, even the break of trust with Connor. “He defended himself that the Master had known about the island for years, that it was never the refuge we hoped it was. But the fact remains that he didn’t warn me that he was bringing them. He gave me no choice in the matter. I told him after they left, that I could never trust him the same way. Basically, he’s shown where his loyalties lie.”

  “And let’s not forget that he let you believe he’d died, when he killed his Todd Remarkian identity,” Dr. Wilson said. “You grieved for him deeply, and it was all a lie. I know you love Connor, but I have always had concerns about him. Remembering that he serves the Master’s agenda might be an important thing to keep in mind going forward. Perhaps Connor is changing in a way that no longer fits with your lifestyle as a working mother.”

  “Trust you, Dr. Wilson, to put your finger on it exactly. But I owe my life to Connor. If he hadn’t put that chip in me, I’d be dead, along with Jake.” Sophie unconsciously fingered where the chip lay, in the soft skin under her arm.

  “Do you still want the chip? Do you want to be someone that this wanted fugitive can find, anywhere in the world, at the touch of a button?” Dr. Wilson’s elegant eyebrows had risen. “Maybe that’s something you should think about.” She pointed to the small bag. “What are you going to do with the ashes?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Sophie slid the little Ziploc back into the velvet pouch and put it in the hidden pocket of her dress. She wanted it close to her, on her body—like the ring.

  “I’ve worked with a lot of grieving people, and here’s a bit of advice: don’t hold onto those ashes too long.” Dr. Wilson set down her empty teacup and stood up.

  Across from her, Sophie did the same.

  “We’ve covered a lot of ground today. I’m going to be on the island for a couple more days, if you want to meet again. But now I’m off to the mall, to buy myself a few new dresses.”

  Sophie smiled. “If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you. I need a few new dresses too—from the maternity store.”

  Hours later, Sophie pulled into the parking lot at Waikiki Beach. She was tired, but in a good way, wrung out from laughing and crying and shopping.

  She and Dr. Wilson had enjoyed their time at the mall. Buying maternity clothes and a few tiny baby things had made her pregnancy feel more real. But she wasn’t yet ready to go home to the evening routine with Armita, Momi, and the dogs.

  She was going to take Dr. Wilson’s advice—it had served her well in the past.

  Sophie made sure her shopping bags in the back seat were covered by a beach towel. Break-ins were common in this area. She got out of the SUV her father had bought her so long ago, after her FBI Academy graduation, and locked it. The floaty dress she had worn that day felt soft and comfortable, blowing around her body as she walked down onto the sand of the beloved beach she had run on and swum at for so many years.

  She and Jake hadn’t visited it often. The bulk of the time they’d spent as a couple had been in Hilo. But this was a special place to her, and always would be. She wanted to think of Jake when she was here with her babies, teaching them to swim in the gentle waves and running with her dogs on the sand.

  Sophie walked down to the water’s edge. The ocean purled softly over her feet. Sunset glazed the waves with the colors of fire and lava. Palm trees fluttered their fronds in the breeze. This was paradise—and it was home.

  Sophie reached into her pocket and took out the small black velvet pouch. She pulled the cord that opened it, revealing the miniature bag inside, filled with a handful of ash.

  All that was left of her kun dii.

  “Cootie, you mean,” his voice said in her mind. “Get it right, babe.”

  She smiled.

  Because that wasn’t all that was left of Jake. She carried him in her body, in the DNA of her child, and he would live on. Such a divine mystery.

  Sophie opened the tiny Ziploc and scattered the bit of ashes on the next wave that moved in to caress her toes.

  She shut her eyes—and almost, almost—could feel him kiss her goodbye.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of Wired Strong, Paradise Crime Thrillers book 12.

  Sneak Peek

  Wired Strong, Paradise Crime Thrillers Book 12

  Pim Wat

  Same timeframe as the end of Wired Ghost

  Pim Wat stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  She was supposed to be meditating. The Master wanted her to learn to manage her emotions, her mind, her body.

  And technically, she was meditating—on the ruin of her once beautiful face.

  Scar tissue twisted across her skin like a snake. One eye was higher than the other, because a broken cheekbone hadn’t been set. The other eye wouldn’t open all the way—the lid had been torn and resewn poorly, giving her the look of a drunkard. And her jaw had been br
oken and not reset, causing a droop to her mouth and ruining her bite. Eating was painful and speech difficult.

  The dandelion fluff covering her skull, gone white from suffering, she could grow out and dye.

  But her face?

  Pim Wat was a gargoyle now, a travesty. She had no intention of mastering her emotions about that.

  She picked up the heavy, expensive bottle of perfume resting on her vanity, and hurled it at the mirror. The flask broke with a satisfying crash that flung shards of crystal and glass all over the luxurious chamber, filling her hair and peppering her skin with painful shrapnel that reeked of jasmine and roses.

  Pim Wat welcomed the searing of a thousand tiny cuts. She smiled through the pain, letting the shards impale her where they would.

  Pain was her friend. Pain woke her up; it was a spur in her side, driving her to greatness. She was done being a malleable doll that the Master could mold into someone loving, forgiving, passive. She’d never been those things, and this outward ugliness didn’t suit her, either.

  The Master called her “my beautiful one,” and “my deadly viper.”

  Pim Wat wasn’t, now, but she would be again.

  She’d rise from these ashes like a phoenix to strike terror into her enemies; she’d rain death on those who’d stolen years of her life—beginning with that disloyal whore who’d handed her over to the torturers.

  She’d enjoyed the masquerade of asking Sophie’s forgiveness. Now her daughter wouldn’t see vengeance coming.

  A knock at the door. “Madam? Are you all right?” The quavering voice of Pim Wat’s attendant was muffled by the heavy wooden portal. The woman was a peasant, wife of Number One’s houseman Nam. The couple had recently been brought to the Yām Khûmkạn compound as refugees, hiding from the raid that the U.S. Department of Justice had made on their home. Kupa should be grateful to be allowed to serve Pim Wat, but the woman continually needed discipline.