Other works by Dustin Stevens :
Krokodil
Quarterback
Be My Eyes
Scars and Stars
Catastrophic
21 Hours
Ohana
Twelve
Liberation Day
Just a Game
Ink
Four
The Zoo Crew Novels:
Tracer
Dead Peasants
The Zoo Crew
Motive
Dustin Stevens
Motive
Copyright © 2014, Dustin Stevens
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
For Amanda.
"My friends on the mainland think just because I live in Hawaii, I live in paradise. Like a permanent vacation - we're all just out here sipping Mai Tais, shaking our hips, and catching waves. Are they insane? Do they think we're immune to life? How can they possibly think our families are less screwed-up, our cancers less fatal, our heartaches less painful?”
-The Descendants
The car was already waiting downstairs, the driver behind the wheel, the taillights glowing red in the darkening evening as Thomas Zall stood staring out the second story window of his home. He knew that lodged inside the trunk of the Mercedes S-Class was his garment bag and shoulder carry-on, enough supplies between them to keep him away for the better part of a week. The only thing he had to do was say a single goodbye before walking downstairs, climbing into the backseat, and heading towards the airport.
Despite the moment of his departure growing closer with each passing minute, he stood rooted in place, his gaze rising from the car on his driveway to the city of Honolulu below. Stretched out in a sweeping one hundred and eighty degree arc from his home atop Tantalus he could see the lights of town twinkling all the way from Pearl City to the north on down past Waikiki to the south. Cutting through the middle of them was the H-1 highway, the evening traffic still locked up tight, an unending chain of red and yellow lights.
A sigh passed Zall’s lips as he raised his wrist and pushed back the cuff of his Armani suit coat, checking the time. The glowing face of his Cartier watch showed it to already be after nine o’clock, his flight scheduled to leave in less than an hour.
“Okay,” Zall said, turning back to face his son, his voice far away. “I have to be going now. Is there anything you would like to say to me before I do?”
He waited a long moment, his expression blank, hoping for a response, knowing it wasn’t coming. It was the same thing that happened every time he left town, a mirror image of what he knew was waiting for him when he returned.
Often he had heard children of a certain age were difficult, tending to act distant, or even standoffish with their parents. This was different though, something far worse than Zall ever would have imagined the first time he held his young boy in his arms.
This wasn’t just a case of youthful reticence. His son wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t even look at him, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he attempted to make it right.
“Okay,” Zall said, another sigh passing his lips, a hint of moisture tugging at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll be back on Tuesday.”
Hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, he headed towards the exit, stopping just inside the door, giving one last look before departing. “I love you.”
Silence was his only response.
Chapter One
The Hawaii State Capitol stood as the centerpiece of the state’s collection of buildings designed in the Hawaiian international style of architecture, an offshoot of the famed Bauhaus movement. Finding the simple geometric shapes and clean lines appealing, then-Governor John A. Burns was adamant in his wishes that the Capitol employ the Bauhaus techniques when it was built in 1969.
Like most things in Hawaii though, he was also explicit in stating that the building needed to contain certain aspects to make it uniquely their own. To meet this directive a series of specific features were added, ranging from the reflecting pool surrounding the building, indicative of the Pacific Ocean that enveloped the islands, to the conical shape of the open ceiling above, representative of the volcanoes that formed the state. Eight columns served as the center supports for the building, culminating on the second floor in a fanned top, a nod to the royal palm trees that dotted the native landscape.
The centerpiece of the entire design was a mosaic on the floor of the open-air rotunda. Roped off from visitors, it was a perfect circle of greens and blues, located directly beneath the gaping ceiling five stories above.
It was that mosaic, or more importantly what lay on it, that had summoned Walter Tseng from his bed in the middle of the night.
There were certain duties that came with being the Chief of Police. Tseng understood that five months prior when he was named to the post after the sudden and abrupt retiring of his predecessor. He’d grown to know it even better every day since as the list seemed to expand exponentially.
This was a first though.
The clock on the dash announced the time at a quarter to two in the morning as Tseng pulled his Chevy Tahoe up alongside the curb outside the state capitol. He put the SUV into park and let the engine idle, staring at the glowing digits and trying to put together what he knew.
There wasn’t much.
A quarter hour earlier he had been summoned on his cellphone by Tim Hall, Chief of Staff to Hawaii Governor Dwight Randle. He had told – not asked, certainly not requested, but told – Tseng to be at the capitol in twenty minutes.
Half asleep and shuffling into the living room to avoid waking his wife, Tseng attempted to wrap his mind around what was happening. He tried to press Hall for details, but was informed only to stop in the rotunda on the way in before reporting to the Governor’s office.
No other staff. No calling for backup.
Leaving his rig parked on the curb, Tseng set his flashers to blinking and turned off the engine. He stepped from the car and headed up the concrete walkway towards the capitol, his soft-soled shoes falling silent against the ground. Given the hour he had opted against his formal uniform, dressing in a pair of slacks and aloha shirt, loafers on his feet.
Two in the morning or not, he was still going to see the governor.
The downtown area around the capitol was subdued as he approached, a few errant sounds of urban life the only noise. Somewhere in the distance a car door slammed, a bus pulled away from the curb. A warm ocean breeze blew across his face, mussing the thick black hair atop his head.
Tseng paid it no mind as he walked through the columns welcoming him to the capitol and straight towards the black curtains rising ten feet high, stretched tight across the rotunda floor. He had no idea what to expect behind them, but figured it must be what Hall told him to see before coming up.
It had to be. Nothing else was out of place. And it was the only time in his entire life spent on Oahu he had ever seen them there.
As he approached, a soft yellow glow could be seen rising from behind the curtain. Eyes narrowed, Tseng strode across the middle of the capitol floor and stopped at the corner of the spread. Two upright steel poles held the canopy in place and he knocked on one of them with the back of his knuckles. Using his right hand, he peeled back the makeshift screen a few inches and peered inside.
Staring back at him wer
e three members of the governor’s security detail. They looked straight ahead, their expressions stony, hands clasped in front of their stomachs. A single lamp threw harsh yellow light across them.
“Chief Tseng, please come in,” the man in the middle said.
A small nod lowered the top of Tseng’s head as he stepped through the curtain and let it drop closed behind him. Any residual noise from the outside world fell away, the tiny space unnaturally quiet.
Tseng paused just inside the cloth and took in his surroundings. Across from him stood the three, each of them dressed much like he was. The men on either end were no more than five-ten, their hair shorn tight. Both of Polynesian descent, they tipped the scales well above three hundred pounds.
In the middle was Duke Kalakona, head of the governor’s security and a rare holdover from the previous administration. Two inches taller and a few pounds lighter than his counterparts, his dark hair was a bit longer and gelled into place.
Given their respective positions, Tseng had worked with Duke on a few issues before, largely security for public appearances by the governor. Most people that worked with Duke found his no-nonsense style grating, even a little prickish.
Tseng admired his straight-forward nature.
“Duke,” Tseng said, nodding for emphasis.
“Chief,” Duke replied. “I assume you’ve been briefed?”
“Not at all,” Tseng responded, twisting his head at the neck for emphasis. “All I was told was to check in here before heading upstairs. What’s going on?”
Duke turned over a shoulder and nodded to the man on his left, a simple up-and-down movement that covered no more than an inch. On command, the man reached out and flipped on a second lamp, this one aimed at the mosaic on the floor.
The breath slid from Tseng’s lungs as he stared down at what the light revealed.
Lying in the exact center of the design was a young girl, somewhere between late-teens and early twenties. No younger than sixteen, no older than twenty-five. Caucasian, her skin was unnaturally tan, mottled with bruises and scuffed with splotches of mud. Flat on her back, her head was aimed up towards the night sky with her arms outstretched to either side. The left leg was extended straight out beneath her while the right was twisted at the knee, her foot perfectly perpendicular to the rest of her body.
Tseng barely noticed any of those details at first glance. Instead, he focused in on the cruel slashes that striped her throat and abdomen. Uneven torrents of blood had spilled straight down onto her chest and thighs, crusting against her flowered sundress. The blood was so thick it was almost black, beginning to harden in the night air. A few flies were already starting to buzz about.
Taking a deep breath, Tseng flicked his gaze up at the three men across from him, all seeming to be waiting for his reaction. He wasn’t about to give them one.
A beat cop in Waikiki for eight years before moving into administration, it was far from the first body he’d seen on the job. As much as he hated to admit it, it was a long way from the most gruesome he’d encountered either.
“Who is she?” Tseng asked.
Duke paused a moment, still seeming to assess him. Once he was content with Tseng’s reaction, he nodded a tiny bit. “We’re not sure.”
The response raised Tseng’s eyebrows a fraction of an inch, but he didn’t press it. “How long has she been here?”
“Her body was found by a night janitor forty-five minutes ago,” Duke said.
Tseng noted that he didn’t directly answer his question, stating when she was found and not how long she’d been there. His next question of who found her had already been answered so he pressed forward, trying to glean out the key facts before heading upstairs.
“Is anybody en route to process the scene?”
“You’re the only person that has been contacted so far,” Duke said, his hands still clasped in front of him.
“Seriously? After forty-five minutes?” Tseng asked, his eyebrows tracking a little higher.
“The governor asked that we secure the area and wait until he had a chance to speak with you directly,” Duke responded. “Trust me, the scene is secure. Nothing will be disturbed until you dispatch whoever you think should process it.”
Tseng opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and closed it. He looked at Duke once more and nodded, not sure if he should be flattered at the deference shown to him or disgusted at the wanton disregard at the loss of life before them.
After a moment, he opted to let it go. These men were just doing what they were told, summoned from their beds the same as he was. Any moral qualms he felt could be addressed upstairs in a few minutes time.
“I’m sure there’ll be a lot more for me to see here, but right now I should head upstairs,” Tseng said, already taking a step back towards the corner of the makeshift space.
Duke nodded, a look bordering on approval on his face. “I unlocked the mauka elevator for you. The front door to the office is open, they’ve been expecting you.”
“Thank you,” Tseng said, glancing once more at the young girl before retreating back past the cloth and walking towards the bank of elevators in the corner. The sounds of the night rushed back in around him as he went, a thousand questions fighting for top position in his mind.
One at a time he dismissed each of them, focusing on the conversation he suspected waited for him on the fifth floor.
The last thing he noticed before stepping into the elevator was his SUV still parked on the curb, its flashers almost begging him to climb back in and forget this entire night had ever happened.
Using the automatic sensor on his key ring, he locked the doors and turned off the lights.
Something told him this was not going to be a short conversation.
Chapter Two
Danilo Cruz could feel the warmth of his delivery as it balanced across his thighs. The thin black plastic did little to insulate it as the gelatinous material inside conformed to his legs, gravity forcing it down atop his cloth shorts.
Every few moments he glanced down at it as he drove, making sure the bundle was still sealed tight, not going anywhere. Once before he had made the mistake of placing it on the seat beside him, a fact made apparent when a sudden application of the brakes sent it hurtling down onto the floorboards.
It was a faux pas that would never be repeated.
The importance of the project was too great to allow for such careless behavior.
The late night streets were almost deserted as he wound through them, the occasional orange fluorescence of an overhead lamp punctuating the darkness. In the distance, the sounds of the highway could be heard growing faint, most of the island fast asleep.
Towering palm trees lined the streets as he eased his Chevy Avalanche through the quiet neighborhood. The vehicle was a recent acquisition, a reward for his continued participation in the project. While not absolutely necessary to his work, he had made no objection when the offer was made, knowing better than to refuse his employer’s benevolence.
The offer had been made with little more than the batting of an eyelash, just one more part of the effort by all to see the task through to its completion.
With twenty thousand miles under the tires, the SUV-truck was old enough not to draw suspicion on the highway, new enough to pass unnoticed through the nicer neighborhoods Honolulu had to offer. Despite the clock easing past two in the morning, he could have just as easily made the trip twelve hours later and gotten no more attention.
Not that any of that really mattered though. For the son of a Filipino immigrant worker, he himself a gardener not long before, it was more an extreme point of pride.
Danilo’s journey came to a stop at the darkened end of a cul-de-sac, heavy foliage encasing the street on either side. Pulling back on the gas, he idled forward to the black wrought iron gate at the rear of the lane, the nose of his truck just inches from it. Leaning out the driver’s side window, he pressed the red call button on the intercom system r
aised three feet off the ground, the box almost hidden amongst oversized leaves.
Just moments after pressing the button, the intercom cackled to life.
“Yes?” a voice asked. The accent on it was unmistakably Asian, the word a bit distorted over the line.
Danilo glanced up at the cameras recording him from every angle and smirked. They knew who it was, but forced him to go through the motions every time anyway.
“Special delivery for the Doc,” Danilo said, blowing out a long sigh to voice his displeasure.
The intercom cackled once more, but no sounds came out. Instead, the hum of the gate filtered in through Danilo’s open car window, the iron bars swinging back to the side. He waited until it was no more than a few inches wider than his truck before moving through, eager to make his delivery and get far away.
At this point, there was absolutely nothing on Earth that he was afraid of, but the place still gave him the creeps. His scalp began to itch as the truck rolled forward, his ears tuning in for every sound around him. In the background, the gate slid shut as he maneuvered a winding drive, wrapping his way through palm trees and artificial koi ponds.
The brick drive ended less than a hundred yards from the gate at the base of a building originally constructed to be a home. Formed in a Mediterranean style, it featured a white stucco façade and red tile roof, the windows and doorways all with oversized arches. Thick swaths of hibiscus and red ginger plants encased everything, giving the air a fragrant lilt as Danilo parked and stepped from the truck.
Balancing the package across his palms, he walked up to a side door and kicked at the base of it before taking a step back. A moment later the door opened and a man in his mid-twenties appeared, looking Danilo up and down once before stepping to the side. Despite the hour, he was dressed in a dark suit and matching shirt, his blue-black hair combed into place.
Motive Page 1
