“Did you give up that name, too?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure what luck he’s having with him, though. I couldn’t get a hold of him before coming back here.”
“Be careful how you play this, Darby. If this investigator finds out what you do, who knows how he might react. Oh, my God!”
“What?”
Tav leaned closer toward me. “What if he finds out and starts blackmailing you to prevent him from turning you in, huh?”
I looked at Tav dumbfounded. I scrunched my eyebrows. “What are you talking about? He’s not gonna blackmail me.”
“You don’t know that.”
To me, Balagot came across as a straight shooter who wouldn’t pull something like blackmail. But as for turning me in, the jury was still out on that. I waved Tav off. “He’s not the type.”
Just then, Frank Rose stuck his head in my office. “Hey, hula boy. Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” I asked.
“Tomorrow’s meeting is cancelled. You’re free to make your way back to your little grass shack.”
That was great news. If I hurried, I might be able to get out on the last flight. I gathered my stuff and said adiós to Tav. I didn’t bother calling Izzy, thinking if I got on the flight, it would be a nice surprise.
Chapter 56
O’ahu, Hawaii
An hour had passed before Balagot noticed Roger Kwan exiting the club. He was by himself and didn’t seem to be aware that he was being followed. All of this surveillance reminded the one-time investigator of the old cases he used to work, except in those days he had a partner to talk too. Now he just had his thoughts and was already worried that he talked to himself way too much.
Balagot wasn’t sure if tailing Roger would lead to anything, but he already made a call to Imelda to let her know that he would once again miss dinner. It didn’t go over well. In any other situation, someone missing dinner because of work wouldn’t be a big deal, but Balagot being a career cop, he had a long history of missing dinners with the wife and kids. “Children don’t get younger; they get older,” she would always say, as if he needed the extra guilt.
Balagot had followed Roger all the way across town to Kalihi Valley. According to his file, this was where he grew up. Was he visiting family? Old pals? Neither. Roger pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript building. It was run down—half rusted aluminum siding, half brick. There was a hand-painted sign by the entrance that read “Kalihi Gym”. One could easily miss it.
Roger got out of his SUV with a duffle bag and entered the gym.
Training? Balagot wondered if this was the gym he trained at all the time or only when he was in town. It was a long drive from the North Shore just for a workout. Balagot parked his car across the street at a diner. He got a burger, fries and coffee and settled back into his car.
What he originally thought would be about an hour workout session was now running into the third hour. Who works out for three hours? Roger, that’s who. Balagot had made a couple more trips to the diner during his surveillance, once for a sundae and another for a coffee refill. Just as Balagot was contemplating a third cup of wake-up, Roger exited the building. He had come out wearing a black hoodie, with the hood pulled over his head. Must be required dress on the North Shore.
Darby had said that the figure looking into the house was wearing a black hoodie. He now had two suspects who wore black hoodies. Izzy also said she was defending herself against the attacker, she could tell that the person had formal training. Roger trained.
Things were getting interesting. Roger had the right look, the right skills, and the right I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Could Izzy have fought this guy off? Maybe if he wasn’t expecting it and she was highly trained. The investigator made a few more notes before staring the engine to the silver 626.
The more Balagot thought about it, the more Roger started to fit the profile of the intruder. A gang would also have the type of influence needed to have local law enforcement bury a case. It wouldn’t surprise him if a couple of uniforms were on the take. Happens all the time in small communities. Balagot made a mental note to add the uniforms that investigated the case to his list of people to talk to. A connection there would further his case against the gangster.
Forty minutes later, Balagot was entering the town limits of Haleiwa. He had backed off a bit from Roger’s SUV, not wanting to stick out. It was late at night and traffic on the highway out here was pretty minimal. Roger turned right following Kamehameha Highway toward the east. Balagot assumed he was heading to the house in Kahuku and didn’t feel the need to stick with him any farther.
As Balagot was about to turn around, he saw Roger make a left up ahead. This changed things, so he continued to follow Roger, making the same left. It was a small dirt road that ran alongside a field. The other side was occupied by residences. Was Roger making another visit to someone? Balagot slowed and pulled over as he watched the red taillights of the SUV grow smaller until they shined bright before shutting off.
From Balagot's estimate, he was a fifteen-minute walk away from where his clients lived.
Chapter 57
My flight was delayed, so by the time I arrived back in Honolulu and got into my Jeep, it was nearly ten at night. Well worth it, I thought as I raced back to the North Shore. I knew I was acting like I’d been away for months when in reality, I’d only been gone for twenty-three hours. I guess I still felt guilty from what had happened the last time I left. Not being there to help protect Izzy really messed me up. The funny thing is, I would most likely have gotten in the way. Still, the man inside of me wanted to keep her safe.
Tav had mentioned something to me a while ago, when I first got into this business. He said, “Darb, as long as you’re dealing with criminals, you invite the criminal element into your life.”
Would Izzy have been attacked had I never gone into business with criminal organizations and we had come to Hawaii? Not likely. Was it coincidental? I have had some situations that were a result of my business but this attack on her had no direct correlation—none that I could see anyway. Was this bad luck? Are these situations avoidable? Is this how karma works? What kind of life is it when one has to constantly worry about their family and friends?
Speaking of family, could this six-degrees-of-separation theory reach as far as Chicago, where my sister and her family live? If I were the nucleolus of it all, one would assume the closer I was to them, the more they would run the risk of contact. Would I be endangering their lives if I were to visit next summer?
These questions were giving me a headache and predicting a grim future, when in fact it’s impossible to predict the future. So I might as well stop dreaming up these stinking scenarios. I wanted to enjoy the rest of my time here with Izzy. Hopefully our investigator had made some progress.
Chapter 58
Two fists, encased in black leather gloves, wailed away at the heavy bag. Three left jabs and then a hard right. Alternating hard rights and lefts followed by a kick. Each hit sent the bag fleeing, only to run into another power blow that exploded sweat in the air. The canvassed opponent was taking a pummeling that would have easily knocked a man flat onto his back with no hope of recovering.
The boxer struck the bag with alternating knees, the weakest of the attacks, though it didn’t sound like it. These strikes were followed by a high kick designed to break jaws. This combination was repeated over and over. Angry grunts accompanied each blow to the bag. This was more than a practice session. Didn’t see that coming did you? Was that your cheek I just crushed? You’ve been training? Ha! I’m going to bruise more than your ego.
The boxer moved in for a furry of hard shots ending with two knees and a high kick. Heavy panting and the tiny squeak of the bag swinging back and forth was all that could be heard.
Two sets of light bulbs hanging from the ceiling lit the room evenly. The boxer didn’t normally train under these conditions but tonight was different. There was an audience—a very special gu
est.
Ladies and gentlemen… Sitting in the corner tied up, gagged and fighting, out of San Francisco, is the Amazonian Queen herself: Miss Izzyyyyyyyyy Weberrrrrrrr.
The boxer walked over to Izzy and slapped her across her face. She was bruised and battered. Her bottom lip was puffy and dried blood had caked around her mouth and nose. She appeared to be in a daze.
“Look at me!” The boxer shouted. “I want you to see what I’m capable of, what a formidable opponent I am. You think you won that night? You think you can take me down? Think again.”
The boxer laughed out loud. “You have no I idea what I plan on doing to you.”
Chapter 59
With Kalani out of the picture, Balagot took a few minutes to walk through his discoveries. He had yet to talk to Mike Souza, but in one day he had seen more than enough to peg Roger as his primary suspect. Balagot was excited about this new angle on the case. It had promise. The more he knew about Roger Kwan, the more he fit as the missing piece of the puzzle.
Considering how close they were to Izzy and Darby’s place, Balagot was curious as to what business Roger had here. Visiting a friend? Girlfriend perhaps?
Balagot decided to take a walk. He stuck close to the shadows of the trees that lined most of the front yards. A good portion of the moon remained hidden behind a partially cloudy sky, so Balagot wasn’t concerned about being spotted. He made his way closer to the SUV, stopping every so often to listen, until he reached the vehicle. He checked the doors. They were locked.
From behind the SUV he had a good view of the house. There was a single lamp on in the living room but Balagot didn’t see movement. He waited for a few more minutes but still he saw nobody.
He continued down the dirt road to the end where there was a field maybe fifty feet wide. On the other side was Haleiwa Road. If one were to cross the field and that road and then walk another one hundred yards, they would find themselves at the beach cottage. Roger could move back and forth easily and not look suspicious to the neighbors.
Balagot walked back to the vehicle and watched the house for a few more minutes. Still no signs of life. Moving around the vehicle for a closer look, he noticed a mailbox. Let’s see who lives here. He opened it and pulled out its contents. Most of it was junk mail, all of it addressed to “Resident” except for the last envelope. That one was addressed to a Mr. Kwan.
Chapter 60
Great, she’s up.
The lights inside the beach house were on when I pulled into the driveway. I was so excited to see Izzy that I made the drive back from the airport in record time—thirty-five minutes. I wanted to kiss her and hug her and hold her in my arms until we fell asleep—unless of course, she was in a playful mood. Whatever the order, I wanted to fall asleep with her in my arms.
When I slipped my key into the lock of the front door, I realized it was already unlocked. Sheesh, Izzy. You’re supposed to keep the doors locked at all times. I pushed the door open and what I saw made my chest tightened. Chairs around the dining room table were overturned. A shelf with books lay on the floor. The cheap coffee table was broken. A painting hung crooked on the wall. My heart began to beat louder as I processed what could have happened. As much as I tried, there was no getting around it. A fight took place in here.
No, no, no…
I called Izzy’s name as I started searching the house, starting with our bedroom. Empty. The guest room was next. Empty. The bathroom door was closed. I was afraid I would find something in there I didn’t want to see. I pushed the door open. Empty.
I looked in all the closets, under the beds, even inside the large cabinets under the kitchen sink. The house was completely empty and the only room that appeared to be trashed was the living room. I hurried over to the back door. It was still locked. I opened it and looked at the lanai. Everything appeared normal outside. I ran out onto the beach and looked up and down it. I called out for her a few more times. Nothing.
I headed back into the house and looked for a note or anything that could explain to me what had happened here tonight. And that’s when my heart sank. Nausea boiled in my stomach. Amidst the broken coffee table was a half-empty bowl of old cereal. The last time I actually spoke to Izzy was right before I jumped on the red-eye to San Francisco. She was eating cereal while she was on the phone.
Whatever happened here had happened last night.
Chapter 61
He lived in walking distance; this was Roger’s neighborhood. This was not good.
Balagot knew what he had to do. He made his way to the front of the house near a bush and peeked inside a window. The living room was empty. The lamp appeared to be the only light on in the house. What now? He patted his jacket for that familiar cylindrical shape of his approved weapon. God knows he didn’t want to take Roger head-on if he didn’t have to. Even though he was an amateur boxer in his youth, he wasn’t training to take people out now. Balagot listened. There it was again. A voice? Yes, it was a woman’s voice. But there was something else too. What’s that thumping sound?
The hair on Balagot’s arms stiffened. He knew he could be walking in on something he would regret. But there was too much evidence pointing to Roger. He removed the pepper spray from his jacket and flipped off the safety.
If Roger was the one who attacked Izzy and tried a second time, there’s a good chance he would try again. Something inside Balagot told him to keep looking and he always trusted his gut. It was time to find out what Roger was up to.
He crept along the side of the house eyeing the series of large windows up ahead. As Balagot got closer, it looked like behind the windows was an enclosed patio. He could see a shadow moving inside, swift repetitive moves, and he heard grunting. And there it was again: the faint sound of a woman moaning. Balagot didn’t like the sound of this. He aimed his pepper spray away from him and gave it a couple of test shots. Slowly he moved forward until he was inches away from being able to peek inside. His only hope was that whatever Roger was doing, he wasn’t facing the direction of that window.
Balagot tilted his head forward into view and stopped suddenly. He could not believe what he saw. Roger was naked. In front of him was another naked body, a woman bent over in front of him. One of his hands gripped a handful of her long black hair, pulling her back as his hips slammed into her repetitively. His other hand was held up high, and in it was a mini camcorder. The girl moaned in delight.
Sheesh, I must be getting on in age if I thought something criminal was going on. Balagot watched for a bit longer to ensure the girl was a willing participant in the act. She had to be; she was fully aware of the camera and couldn’t stop looking at it.
Balagot was confused. He felt like he was on a wild goose chase trying to make something out of nothing. Since he was in the area, he decided he would check in on Izzy. He couldn’t remember when Darby was supposed to return from his trip. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to stop by and make sure everything was okay. Maybe he could question them a bit more. Balagot did a U-turn at the end of the road and drove off.
Roger Kwan watched the silver car drive off from his dark driveway. He no longer wondered who the driver was.
Chapter 62
The little girl sat still on the stool, allowing her hair to be combed. She was quiet, not letting on whether she appreciated the grooming or not. The mother didn’t seem to care; she was transfixed by her daughter’s hair, combing long after there was no need. The little girl was dressed in a blue and white party dress with baby blue sandals.
“You look like a princess,” said her mother.
The comb easily made its way through the shoulder-length hair, moving methodically from left to right and then back. The tangles had long ago lost their grip due to the conditioning. The little girl looked beautiful in her new hair. It shined from the bulbs surrounding the mirror on the makeup table.
With it being the only source of light, the makeup lights cast a harsh shadow on the rest of the girl’s room. Against a wall was a single bed with
a pink and red comforter and sheets. A stuffed polar bear sat on the pillow. There was a white dresser against the wall with a few trinkets on top of it. A toy chest lay at the foot of the bed. Either this was the cleanest little girl’s room ever or she didn’t have much. Of course, a washer and dryer took up a good portion of the room. The sink near the washer didn’t help either. There were no posters of teen idols or musicians tacked to the walls. It might have been difficult, with the walls of the room being made out of cement blocks.
“You’re being such a good girl tonight, a well-behaved young lady. Mommy appreciates that. What’s that honey? You’re getting tired? Okay, just a little bit longer. You know how Mommy loves to make you look beautiful. It’s almost perfect.”
The little girl continued to obey her mother and sat still, even though her eyes were closed. Who could blame her? It was late. Any child would be half asleep.
The mother placed the comb down and picked up a hand brush. That’s when the little girl fell forward. Her forehead smacked against the table with a dull thud.
Her mother was completely oblivious to what happened as she continued to clean the brush. The girl sat forward, head resting on the table, arms at her side, eyes still closed, legs frozen in a sitting position and her mouth sealed shut. She was so well preserved. The dry cool space of the basement was perfect for keeping the child from deteriorating.
“A few more brushings and we’ll be all done. But mommy’s going to take her gloves off first. It’ll be easier.” She removed the same leather gloves that blasted the heavy bag not too long ago and rubbed her hands together. “That feels better.”
Finally, the mother pulled the girl back and balanced her on the stool. She leaned forward, kissing the little girl on the cheek, and then resting her chin on the child’s shoulder as she looked at them both in the mirror.
Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella) Page 70
