by Toby Neal
“Me too. It seems like it’s escalating.”
“No kidding. He went from a note, to a note with evidence, to sending you a package . . . I think he’s going to try to make face-to-face contact soon. We gotta be prepared.”
Lei’s cell rang. She dug it out of her backpack.
“Hello?”
“Lono Smith from Puna PD. A woman matching Mary’s description has been found washed up in Uli`i Park. I’m heading down to the morgue to see about making an ID.”
“Oh my God. No!” Lei said, as her heart hammered and stomach dropped. “What’s happened to her?”
“Drowned.”
“I can identify her. I’m coming down,” she stated, and shut her phone. Detachment dropped over her like a cloak.
“We need to go to the morgue,” she said to Pono. “Mary might’ve been found.” Her lips felt numb as her mouth formed the words.
“Oh shit.”
They hurried out the front door, Pono telling Dispatch where they were headed. Lei fired up the Crown Vic and they roared onto the main road. Her hands felt greasy on the wheel and there was a tunnel quality to her vision.
“Maybe it’s not her. I have to go see.” Lei reached down to pinch her leg, hard, through her regulation slacks. The pain helped, and her vision expanded again.
“I should be driving,” Pono grabbed for the dash as Lei whipped around another vehicle, hitting the siren and lights. It was no time before they pulled into the emergency area of Hilo Hospital. Lei double-parked the Crown Victoria and they jogged into the lobby, where Lono Smith had already arrived with his partner, a lean haole guy he introduced them to as Brett Samuels.
They walked down the echoing linoleum hall to the elevator and Lono pressed G for the basement. In the long empty moment of watching the elevator lights and listening to the bing of them changing, Lei focused on her breathing, not allowing herself to think. Her heart roared and her stomach heaved, but by holding the pressure point in the web of her hand and taking one small slow breath after another, she was able to get off the elevator and walk down the hall to the morgue.
They pushed through the swinging doors into the pistachio green tile-lined room with its steel tables, deep sinks, and shiny row of refrigerator boxes. Morgues have a unique smell, and this one smelt of powerful, nose-tickling lemon cleaner with a decomp chaser that clung to the back of Lei’s throat.
“We thought we’d have you guys identify her first,” the morgue assistant said. “We’d like to spare the family looking at the wrong body if possible.”
“What happened to her?” Lei asked as the assistant unlatched one of the refrigerator box doors with a vacuum-seal pop. Her nerves felt exposed, as if her skin was peeled off. She curled her hand into a fist, the nails cutting into her palm.
“Looks like drowning though we haven’t done the autopsy yet.”
He pulled the sliding rack out and the detectives clustered around as he lifted the drape off the shape he’d revealed.
Mary’s dark skin was grayish and her lips were deep purple. Her eyes were a little open, her eyelashes cartoonishly long. There was a little brown mole beside her mouth Lei had never noticed before.
“It’s her,” Lono said. “I’m the detective on the case, so you can uncover the body.”
Please don’t, Lei thought desperately, but of course he did.
Mary’s body told the story of her struggle, from bruises braceleting her wrists to the shadowy marks of hands on her hips and vivid welts from the Taser. Lei felt the blood leave her head and she swayed, grabbing the edge of the steel table and accidentally, unforgettably touching the marble-cold flesh of Mary’s arm.
Pono’s voice came from a long way away. “Her friend,” she thought he said, before his warm bulk hoisted her against his side and he supported her down the hall, choked and blinded by grief and horror.
Chapter 27
Saturday dawned overcast and drizzly, as it often was in Hilo. Lei misted her orchids on their plastic shelving under the mango tree, Keiki panting contentedly beside her. It was almost time to bring one of the phalaenopsis inside. Two butterfly-like blooms had opened on its graceful stem, with a row of buds promising more. Delicate purple tracery marked the ‘veins’ of the blood orchid, a rare variety.
There were apparently still beautiful things in the world.
She’d gone home and cried her eyes dry, then gone to bed. She was barely aware of Stevens coming over, and he’d wisely left her alone. This morning’s emotional hangover was the worst she ever remembered.
Lei wondered again what it was about her that brought such bad luck. She remembered telling Mary that, and the way her friend had dismissed it. Now all those possibilities, including their friendship, would never happen for a beautiful, brave, fun-loving woman named Mary who should’ve had her whole life ahead. At the thought Lei’s eyes filled again and she blinked rapidly.
“Good morning.”
She turned, mister in hand, every movement feeling heavy and slow. Stevens was leaning in the back doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand, holding another out to her. His hair was rumpled, his blue eyes dark and sleepy, and he hadn’t put on a shirt. His jeans rode low on his lean hips and looked like they were going to fall off. This would have interested her on a different day, she thought with the muffled objectivity that cloaked her.
“Thanks,” she said, walking over and taking the mug.
“Are you okay?” His voice was husky. He reached out a long finger and pushed a curl out of her eyes. She could only imagine how unsightly she looked.
“I don’t know.” She brushed past him and went into the house. “I guess so. I have a date with Tom Watanabe to get ready for.”
“I’m so sorry about your friend.”
“You keep saying that. I actually didn’t know her that well.” Lei heard how wooden, how stilted and wrong this sounded and couldn’t seem to make it any different. She stood by the sink and looked out the window as she sipped the coffee.
“Well, she’s got some good people on her case, I hear.” He sat in one of the kitchen chairs and turned his coffee mug in his hands. “I don’t want you to go out with Watanabe. It’s a bad idea, especially today.”
She picked up his shirt—draped over the back of a chair—and tossed it at his head. “And I think you should put this on.”
She sat down as he pulled on the shirt and combed his dark hair with his fingers. She took a big swig of coffee.
“I actually can’t believe I’m going on a date with this guy,” she finally said. “What was I thinking?”
“You can always call and cancel.”
“I guess I better. I’m just not up to it today.”
Lei went to the coffeepot, pouring herself a refill for something to do. The muffled, insulated feeling was dissipating, replaced by an exquisite oversensitivity. The tiny hairs on her body seemed to stand on end, colors were suddenly too bright and her ears rang with every nuance of sound.
She must be going crazy.
Before she could change her mind she opened her phone, called the number on the card Tom had given her, and told him she was sick and couldn’t go.
“How about dinner then? Next couple days, whenever you feel better. No big deal, I’ll make one of my grandmother’s recipes, you can just walk down the block.”
“Okay,” Lei said. Easier to say yes than keep arguing with Stevens across the table from her, listening. “I’ll call you.”
She snapped the phone shut.
“I got interviews set up with the two rape victims. Feel up for a road trip? Maybe it would be good to get your mind off Mary by doing something for the investigation.”
“Absolutely,” Lei said. “Let me just do something about my hair.” No one was saying it yet, but Lei was sure whoever killed the Mohuli`i girls had also murdered her friend. She walked into the bathroom and whispered to her ghostly-pale, puffy face in the mirror.
“Interviewing rape victims. Great. Well, Mary, at least I’ll
be doing something for you.”
Chapter 28
She and Stevens drove to Kona first, knocking on the door of young Jesika Vierra’s house. Her mother answered the door, brought them into the living room reluctantly. Jesika had little to add beside what was in the report.
The girl was pale, hair unkempt and eyes hollow, still traumatized by an attack she could hardly remember. The halting monotone of her story caused Lei’s head to swim. Battling the familiar vertigo, she’d muddled through the interview with Stevens taking the lead. The only new clue they came away with was Jesika’s impression that he was fastidious, for she’d found herself waking thoroughly clean and smelling of baby wipes.
“The smell makes me vomit now,” she said, chewing her thumbnail. It was down to a nub.
“Definitely the same M.O. as Mary Gomes,” Stevens said, starting up the SUV as they departed. “Even with the seawater they found traces of propylene glycol, the ingredient in baby wipes, on her.”
“Yeah,” Lei said. They drove in silence, headed for the other side of the island where Cassie Kealoha lived. Lei stared out the window at the sunshine on the ocean, remembering her trips to the beach with Mary. It was better to think of that than Mary’s cold dead skin under her hand.
Cassie’s family had a large tract of land on the Hamakua Coast, widely regarded as one of the most beautiful areas on the Big Island. They turned off the highway and wove their way into a lush valley ringed by jungled mountains. Tall pili grass waved in the breeze and a row of coconut trees, edging the driveway, led to the large plantation-style home.
Several trucks were parked on the grass and a huge pit bull heaved at his chain from a stake beside the porch. The dog’s venomous barking brought the father to the door.
“What you like?” The tall Hawaiian crossed tattooed arms over a barrel chest as he eyed the police SUV.
“I’m Detective Stevens and this is Officer Texeira,” Stevens said. “We’re investigating the assault on your daughter and we’re here to ask her some questions.”
The man glowered from the top step of the porch, and the dog continued barking.
“She no like talk about it,” he said. “She sick today.” The mother, equally physically imposing, came to the screen door.
“You folks nevah tell us nothing about what stay going on,” she yelled in pidgin over the dog’s snarling. “This the first time anybody even come talk to Cassie since when she went hospital.”
“I’m sorry no one has been in touch,” Stevens said. He took his card out, held it toward the father, but even that simple movement caused the pit bull to go into a frenzy, heaving its brindled body against the chain. Finally the man shushed it, gestured them to come up onto the porch. The mother held the screen door ajar and they went into the living room.
Several couches lined the walls, and an older couple was sitting on one of them, watching a ballgame. The father went over and turned off the TV, and the old man got up and shuffled out, leaving his elderly wife crocheting. She scarcely looked up at them. Cassie’s father gestured to the couches.
“Sit,” he said.
They sat.
“Thanks for talking to us,” Stevens said. “The reason no one’s contacted you is that there haven’t been any solid leads on your daughter’s attacker.”
A long moment passed as they digested this.
“I’m Lehua Kealoha, and this my husband, Kenny,” said Cassie’s mother finally.
“We looking for him ourselves,” Kenny said. He stood up and paced, waving his powerful arms. Tribal patterned tattoos wrapped around his shoulders and calves. “We know plenny people, and we going find the fucka who wrecked our baby girl.”
“I don’t blame you for wanting justice,” Stevens said. “But please, let the authorities deal with him if you get any leads.”
Kenny frowned and stabbed a finger at Lei.
“You related to the Texeiras up Kona side?”
“No. My family stay from Oahu.”
“What is one girl doing investigating a crime like this?” Lehua said, her lips pinched disapprovingly. Her hand brushed a large gold cross that hung in the graceful neckline of her tropical-print muumuu.
“My friend was attacked too,” Lei said. “I want to get the guy who did it as bad as you do.”
Lehua seemed to consider this, studying Lei. She finally got up.
“Okay then. I’ll go get her. Cassie stay lying down.”
The grandma continued to crochet, and Kenny said, “You like something for drink?”
They were sipping cans of guava juice when Lehua came back, Cassie in her wake. She was tall like her father, a river of thick, shining black hair grazing the backs of her thighs. Her mother prodded her, and she came around the side of the couch and sat facing them, her parents on either side. She held her head high with unconscious pride, but her eyes stayed on the floor.
“Hi, Cassie,” Stevens said, and introduced himself and Lei. Cassie glanced at them briefly, a flick of diamond-dark eyes. Lei put her elbows on her knees as she leaned toward the girl.
“Cassie, I know this has been a terrible thing. It’s going to take awhile to get back to normal, and if you want to talk to someone, counseling can be helpful. I know from experience.”
Lei felt Stevens go still beside her, but she knew she needed to make some kind of connection with Cassie. The girl glanced at her again, a little longer this time.
“We read the report about the attack. Is there anything you’ve remembered since then that might help us find who did it?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Speak up, girl,” her father rumbled. “These folks stay trying fo’ help you.”
“I told them everything.” Cassie looked up, pushed her hair behind her ears. “At the hospital.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Kealoha, this might be easier for Cassie if you left the room,” Lei said gently. The parents looked at each other for a long moment, and then Kenny got up and touched the grandma on the shoulder.
“Tutu, come.” The two of them left, but Lehua put her arm around her daughter. She wasn’t going anywhere. Lei went on.
“It’s hard to think about, I know. But if there’s anything more you can remember, it’s important. I’m wondering if you might remember anything about being ‘posed and photographed.’”
“It was just . . . like a dream. He moved me around like a doll, and I saw flashes of light and heard clicking. When I was awake I thought it might be that he took pictures of me. It was like when you kinda remember something, but aren’t sure.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. I felt stuff like . . . silky stuff.” She darted her eyes sideways to her mother, took a breath and went on. “I felt like . . . silky things. On my body. He also put something on my feet. I know that because when I woke up I had strap marks. I felt something wet and chilly on my skin. I must have opened my eyes sometimes, ’cause I can remember the blue color of the tarp overhead, and the light flashes . . . I know I was trying to wake up, but also not, because I think I knew what he was doing to me and I kinda didn’t want to know, either. I feel guilty I nevah try harder to wake up, get away . . .” Her voice trailed and she hung her head, the curtain of hair sliding down around her.
“You never did nothing wrong.” Her mother rubbed the girl’s back in little circles. “You alive today and that what counts. Maybe he would have killed you if you seen him, if you fought him.”
“That’s right,” Stevens said. “This man is very dangerous. I can’t say anything more right now.”
Lehua looked up at them, her eyes blazing with emotion.
“Get him. Find this monster who hurt my baby.”
Chapter 29
Lei went into Dr. Wilson’s office for her session late that day.
“Hey,” she said. The psychologist sat behind the sleek modern desk in the corner, poring over some papers.
“Hey to you too,” Dr. Wilson said, pulling reading glasses off, laying them aside. She ca
me around the desk and reached out as if to hug her. Lei stood stiffly. Dr. Wilson backed away.
“Sorry, I forgot,” the psychologist said.
“Forgot what?”
“You don’t like to be touched.”
“I never said that.”
“I can tell you don’t like to be touched. Especially when you don’t initiate it.”
“If you say so,” Lei said. She put her hands, clenched into fists, on the coffee table in front of her, and then consciously spread her fingers. “See how irritated you make me? I was having a good day until I got here.” Except for the interviews, and the ache of sorrow that felt like cancer in her bones . . .
“Hmm. I thought things were going better between us than this. Could be some transference going on.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s when the client projects their relationship issues onto the therapist. Do I remind you of someone?”
“Every stupid haole bitch who tried to help me growing up. None of you could do shit for me back then, and you can’t help me now either.” Lei surprised herself with the anger behind her statement.
“Too true,” Dr. Wilson said comfortably. She settled back in her overstuffed lounger, pulling the lever on the side that reclined the seat. She opened the throw blanket draped over the arm and spread it over her lap. She folded her hands, closed her eyes. Lei stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a nap. Let me know when the session’s over.”
Lei frowned, fidgeted. “I actually was going to tell you something, but obviously you don’t care.”
Dr. Wilson opened her eyes. They were a clear, commanding blue.
“You just told me a minute ago I couldn’t help you. I’m tired. I might as well take a nap as listen to you make me the bad guy—first for trying to help, now for not trying.” She closed her eyes again.
Lei looked down at her hands. They’d clenched into fists again. She wanted to get up and leave, but she knew she had to stay the hour. She’d wait it out. She sat back, rubbed her sweaty palms against the stiff blue of her uniform slacks.
