by Toby Neal
“It was very good to see you, to know there’s been a happy outcome for your family. Thank you.” Sophie said goodbye, and left. Dunn would track her down soon enough, probably sooner than she was ready for, as usual.
She needed to go to the beach and unwind—and revisit the scene of the crime.
She wasn’t going to let the hideous memory of what had happened there with Sloane ruin one of her favorite places in Honolulu.
Sophie picked up Ginger from the pet sitter, and drove down to Ala Moana Beach Park.
She used the restroom to change into some running clothes and pulled a billed hat down, slathering her face with sunscreen—not something she’d had to do in the past with her tawny complexion, but the plastic surgeon had warned her that the new skin was delicate and sensitive to the sun.
Afternoon was cooling things down as Sophie leashed Ginger and moved out, picking up a slow jog in the deep warm sand.
She passed the location of the attack. The crime scene tape they’d used to rope it off with was gone.
There was nothing to mark the life-and-death struggle that had taken place there between Sophie and two men. Cool, calm turquoise water lapped against fine-grained sand, dimpled with thousands of happy tourist footprints.
Sophie hit the break wall at the end of the beach and jogged back. She reversed and did it again. When she’d done the length of the beach four times and Ginger was panting and begging to go into the ocean, she peeled off the exercise clothes she’d worn over her bikini and went in, laughing as the Lab chased her. They swam and splashed, and finally Sophie grabbed Ginger’s tail and let the dog tow her into shallow water.
Where would she be without Ginger? The dog brought so much laughter and surprise into her life, helping beat back the depression’s talons.
She spread out her beach towel and lay down on her stomach, the hat back on, protecting her face. Ginger flopped beside her, tongue hanging out.
Sophie just rested there for a long, sweet time.
The late afternoon sun dried the water on her back. The sound of beachgoers laughing and playing in the gentle water and the breeze in the nearby monkeypod trees—all of it soothed her.
She had a place of her own, interesting work, and friends. She was recovering well from her injuries, and she was discovering new things about herself: what she liked and what she didn’t, and she was making a life out from behind her computers.
That didn’t mean she didn’t still love the tech world. She’d recently set up Ying, Amala, and JinJai, her computers, in the apartment—and the niggle of a new program idea had her playing with code for the first time in months.
But the security concerns about using DAVID remained along with the unanswered consent questions. It was easier, for the moment, just to let DAVID rest awhile.
She didn’t have to know exactly where she was going, or what came next.
But she was lonely.
She missed Connor.
Todd.
Sheldon.
Whoever he was, she missed that brilliant, complicated, fascinating man who obviously played violin as well as all the other things he was able to do—if those callouses on his fingers were anything to go by.
She wanted to hear him play violin.
After days of wrestling with her conscience, she’d come to a decision.
Sophie sat up on her elbows and dug into the pocket of her discarded nylon shorts, bringing out her phone. She clicked to the encoded site she used to communicate with the Ghost, and typed in a message.
Been thinking a lot about our conversation. You were right. I’m a hypocrite.
The little green cursor in the old-school DOS-style format pulsed at her, then green letters unspooled and her heart rate picked up.
Took you long enough to admit it. Two whole days was way too long not to hear from you.
A girl has her pride. I felt betrayed. But I’ve thought it through and I understand why you couldn’t tell me.
Are you going to keep my secret?
Sophie bit her lip. Yes. For now. Subject to review.
I’ll take it, and thanks. I wish Todd had met you first. Everything would have been simpler.
Would Todd have liked me as much as Sheldon did?
Definitely. He’d have turned on his Aussie charm and swept you off your feet.
I’m glad you’re both—because I never liked that accent much.
A long pause. Ginger wriggled closer and snuffled against Sophie’s side, tickling her, and Sophie scratched under her chin.
I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with the accent in public, because Todd is planning to ask you out. But it’s Connor you’ll really get to know, Mary Watson.
Sophie’s fingers flew as she texted. That’s ‘Sophie Watson,’ to you. Bring Anubis down to the beach when you’re feeling better, and we’ll see where we go from there.
It’s a start. I’ll be up and around soon.
Thanks for taking a bullet for me, by the way.
And thanks for saving my life. Things can only get better from here.
Sophie smiled. “You’re right, Connor. Things can only get better from here.” She turned the phone off and lay back down to enjoy the last of the warm Waikiki afternoon sun, Ginger at her side.
Acknowledgments
Aloha dear readers!
Thanks so much for coming along for another adventure with Sophie! I am already plotting and writing Wired Hard, Book 3 in the Paradise Crime Series, and it involves a nefarious plot on Maui to steal artifacts from a sacred buried royal Hawaiian island…But I get ahead of myself.
I so enjoyed getting Sophie out of her computer cave and out into the field. When I began writing this book, I had an idea that I wanted more action, and a less “tech-heavy” plot (because, let’s face it, computers are not my area.) I was toying with the idea of getting her out of the FBI and working for a private firm…but I had NO IDEA Jake Dunn would show up on the page, that he’d be such a powerful character and shake things up so much. Nor did I know that with the threat of her ex removed in Book 1, that Sophie would go into such an identity tailspin…but the twist at the end with the Ghost? Yeah, that was planned from book 1, and there are more surprises ahead!
Some days I wake up and pinch myself. I have the best job in the world, creating characters that take on a life of their own and capture the hearts and minds of readers, taking them on a journey to amazing places they may never see—like the Waipio Valley, on the Big Island.
Until next time, I’ll be in my “writing cave,” working on Wired Hard, book 3 in the Paradise Crime Series. Pop in and say hi on social media. I’m on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram!
Much aloha, Toby Neal
I hope you enjoyed Wired Rogue! If you think other readers will enjoy it too, please leave an honest review on Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Goodreads, or KOBO. Your thoughts matter so much, and I read them all!
Much aloha, Toby Neal
I hope you enjoyed Wired Rogue! If you think other readers will enjoy it too, please leave an honest review on your favorite retailer by clicking here. Your thoughts matter so much, and I read them all!
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Read on for the next book in the series!
Wired Hard
Paradise Crime Book 3
Chapter One
Surveillance work was nine parts boredom and one part terror, Sophie had heard. The boredom part was certainly true. Security specialist Sophie Ang sat back in the creaky office chair and swiveled a bit, working a hand exerciser as she watched three video monitors, each covering a corner of the roughly rectangular former baseball field that hid the buried royal Hawaiian archeological site of Kakela on Maui.
The grainy video feed, exposure turn
ed up as much as possible to counteract the darkness, revealed nothing much of interest. The flat expanse of field, still dimpled with the markings of its years as a baseball diamond, was surrounded by an eight-foot, low-budget chain link fence. The only illumination came from the tired amber glow of a nearby streetlight.
After only three hours in front of the monitors, Sophie wished that the Hui to Restore Kakela, the nonprofit that owned the site, had just hired a night watchman instead of Security Solutions’ expensive services.
She put her feet up on the desk and leaned back to stretch, abruptly losing her balance as the old chair tipped.
That woke her up. Too bad the Hui had decided that her partner Jake Dunn was too expensive to afford; she could have used the company—it wasn’t easy to fall asleep around Jake.
Glancing one more time at the monitors, Sophie picked up her phone, texting Connor Remarkian. “This Maui job is very boring. They told me thieves were after priceless artifacts concealed on a buried royal island. It sounded so exciting at the planning meeting on Oahu, but so far, all the job has been is putting in a surveillance system and watching an old baseball field. A lot of unnecessary sitting around.”
Sophie hit Send. She was rationing her communication with the man she was seeing, her natural caution balancing the increasing chemistry between them. They’d had their first official date only a week ago—a trip to the Bishop Museum to study up on Hawaiian relics in preparation for this job.
Connor was still recovering from a gunshot wound that had happened during her last case, but had been more than willing to lean on her as they navigated the Bishop’s floors of beautifully displayed, well-organized artifact exhibits. Discovering more about how intelligent and well-read he was, not to mention his quick sense of humor, continued to attract Sophie. She wasn’t just a person of the body…though his was stellar.
She smiled, remembering photos he’d sent her of him working out—they shared that interest, too.
Connor texted back. “I was wondering how it was. What did you set up to catch the thieves?”
“I have motion activated lights, video surveillance, and a big flask of tea to keep me going.” She unscrewed the thermos and took a sip, glancing at the monitors again. Still nothing.
“Sounds pretty basic. Why don’t they just have a night watchman?”
“I asked the same thing. Apparently, there are security concerns within the organization. Intrigues behind closed doors. The archaeologist who spearheaded hiring me hinted at internal politics. There is concern that…”
One of the sensor lights turning on in the far corner of the field hurt her eyes with brilliance as it blasted on. Sophie slid the phone with its uncompleted text into her pocket and jumped to her feet, reaching for the Taser at her hip. The rusty old office trailer had been parked in the corner of the Kakela site for so many years that it had become a fixture. She pushed open the metal door and, scanning the empty field, trotted toward the light, holding the Taser in a ready position.
No more serious weapons than that were authorized by the Hui on this job, and she missed the familiar deadly weight of her Glock.
Nothing. The white glare of the light reduced the field to a flat expanse of soft, silty soil and bunchy grass around a baseball diamond area.
Directly beneath the light, at the corner of the fence, a black cat, its eyes a glowing flash, jetted away between some bushes.
Sophie re-holstered the Taser. It was going to be a long night. She walked the perimeter of the property, checking the camera angles through a connecting app on her phone.
She reached the corner where active excavation was occurring, and lifted one corner of a large piece of plywood concealing the ruler-straight, five-foot deep rectangular excavation hole, one of several around the site. The orientation tour she had been given with the archaeologist, Brett Taggart, her liaison with the Hui, had been informative about the site’s origins and importance.
Taggart looked older than his thirty-six years, with a hatchet face and cynical dark eyes, a cigarette perpetually dangling at his lip. The curved shoulders of an academic were counterbalanced by the sun-bronzed muscles of an outdoorsman, and Taggart wore an Indiana Jones-style fedora with a pair of mirrored aviators and lug-soled boots when he met her at the site to show her around. “What’s the good of being an archaeologist if you can’t play the part?” he said, when she commented on his outfit.
The Hui nonprofit was slowly excavating the site, which had once been a sacred, royal island with a brackish lagoon surrounding it. Around the turn of the century, the lagoon had been filled in with dirt removed from road construction, an attempt to control mosquitoes that were breeding there as the site fell into ruin.
Taggart had pointed out the area she was now observing. “We’re surveying all around the original island site—we aren’t as interested in the fill dirt where the lagoon used to be. We took ground penetrating radar images of the entire site, and have begun excavation as the Hui can afford it, in the areas that seem to be of the greatest archaeological significance.”
“So what could be so valuable that thieves are trying to steal it?” Sophie asked. “The Hawaiians didn’t use gold, or precious gems. I don’t know a lot about archaeology, so what makes an artifact valuable?”
“An artifact becomes valuable because of its rarity and cultural significance. Its collectability is also a factor, especially in the private market.”
“You mean the black market.”
Taggart met her eyes, and his gaze, dark as ale, was sharp and intelligent. “There are plenty of legitimate relics already in circulation that can be bought, sold, and collected. But yes. The black market exists. And that’s what we’re talking about here. The main items we think these thieves are looking for are human bone hooks.”
“Human bone hooks?” Sophie scrunched her brows.
Taggart settled back on his heels, broad, work-roughened hands dangling between his knees. He took off his hat and pushed a rumpled handful of dark hair off his forehead. “Hawaiians made fishing hooks out of bone and shell. And as you may know, they believed in a connection with their ancestors. Mana, the spiritual power that inhabits all things, was believed to be concentrated in the bones of a person. So, sometimes, after an ancestor had been buried and the skeleton was exposed, they would retrieve a bone from an ancestor and carve fishing hooks from it. These hooks were sacred, infused with the mana of their ancestors and believed to be good luck, blessed if you will, for the fishing that was so much a part of their survival.”
“So did you identify a lot of human bone hooks buried in this site?”
“The GPR isn’t strong enough to find items that small, but we’ve found two so far during our excavations. Each of them is valued at a couple of hundred thousand. Their actual value is priceless, and considered more because Kakela was kapu, for royalty only, so the bone they are made of is that of ali`i, Hawaiian royalty, and thus even more valuable.”
Sophie, hands on her hips, gazed around at the tattered baseball field. “Kind of incredible that no one, back when they filled this place in, understood the significance of it.”
Taggart clapped his hat back on his head and stood up. “That’s colonialism for you. But picture how it was: a sheltered brackish lagoon filled with fish for eating. The sacred royal palace hales on the island in the middle, for living—and some partying.” Taggart bounced his brows suggestively. “There were what my mama would have called…goings-on.”
“Really.” Sophie shook her head. “It’s hard to imagine.”
“Well, of course all that was gone, broken down, by the time they were building roads and needed somewhere to put the fill dirt. The mosquitoes were bad in the lagoon, which had lost its circulation, so it was a practical solution at the time.”
Sophie felt a chill finger of wind zip down her spine and she dropped the plywood back over the hole. She still wasn’t sure why the Hui couldn’t make do with a night watchman. Taggart had hinted at internal securit
y concerns when he hired her on behalf of the Hui, but hadn’t told her what those concerns were.
Life in the private sector was very different from being an FBI agent. As an agent, she had perennially been overwhelmed by a demanding stream of cases, and even when there was a break in the pace, she always had a backlog of long-term projects to work on.
But as a private sector security specialist, her priority was getting and keeping the jobs that Security Solutions assigned to her—no matter how boring—and making sure the security firm had happy customers.
Sophie walked back to the trailer as the sensor light finally extinguished on its timer.
She removed her phone and set it on the desk in front of the monitors. Somehow the text she’d begun to Connor had been erased, and she didn’t feel like resuming the conversation. Keeping an eye on the monitors, Sophie rolled out her padded mat and went through a familiar yoga routine, stretching, bending, strengthening. The practice was a central part of her recovery from her early, abusive marriage.
Doing her practice kept her going for a while, but two hours later, she was nodding off again when the sensor light lit up once more.
This time, a figure was clearly visible in the monitor, climbing the exterior of the fence. The sensor light caught him in its blinding illumination, frozen on the fence like a fly caught in a web.
She needed to capture him outside the fence before the sensor light scared him off. Always dressed for action in yoga pants, a sports bra, and athletic shoes, Sophie was already outside and running. She dodged through the unlocked gate beside the trailer, pouring on speed as she ran along the outside of the fence, scanning for the climbing figure.
