“I got three babies,” a large woman to his far left said, holding a hand up above her head and waving him over. “I don’t know how many teeth they have, but you can take them all for four hundred dollars.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The report from Dr. Song was much the same as the day before, only this time in duplicate. Two young women, both with tremendous amounts of vaginal scarring, were brought in with vicious slashes across their throats and abdomens. Their official causes of death were exsanguinations brought upon by the removal of the jugular veins. Time of death was somewhere between two and four in the morning, with preliminary bruising showing that the bodies had been moved sometime between dying and final disposal.
The only difference at all between the two was that one of them was pregnant. No trace of the fetus or umbilical cord was found with the mother.
Kalani rolled the new information around in her head as she made her way back across the Likelike Highway. Her day had started at just after four a.m., an unpleasant jolt from her slumber by the growling voice of Chief Tseng. The clock on the dash told her it was now almost half past nine, the digits glowing in the darkness.
After dropping Rip off at his home outside of Pearl City, she had swung through an L&L drive-thru for a plate of chicken katsu and fries, the smell of fried food wafting up at her from the passenger seat. Despite the hour the air was still warm and swirled through the open-air Jeep, the windows zipped out earlier in the day, her hair whipping around her head, held in place by the pair of sunglasses perched on her scalp.
Three days ago, her biggest concern was trying to sleep through the night. In the time since she had been forced into active duty by a governor intent on covering up what was fast starting to look like the work of a serial killer.
A serial killer that was escalating quickly, demanding to be noticed.
Along the way she had cajoled an old family friend into joining her and pissed off a ranking detective. She had assisted with tracking down a low level pimp and interrogated a working girl with a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. Twice in as many days she’d made the trek to Tripler, bearing witness to bodies having experienced the double indignities of being viscously murdered and then ritualistically examined for evidence.
At least the exhaustion she now felt might be enough to allow her to sleep.
Turning north onto the Kamehameha Highway, Kalani leaned hard on the gas, her mind already working out whether to shower before eating or the other way around. The speedometer pushed itself above sixty as she ground out the last few miles, her heart rate picking up in her chest as she slid to a stop in front of her home.
Parked at the end of her driveway sat a newer Ford Focus, the bright red paint job flashing beneath Kalani’s headlights. On instinct she reached down into the middle console and pulled her Beretta up onto her lap, unsnapping the leather holster and easing it out a couple of centimeters.
Gone was any trace of hunger or exhaustion as she rolled past the Focus, looking for any signs of life within, any indicator as to who may be calling on her at that hour. To her knowledge there were only a handful of people that even knew where she lived, none of which she could recall driving such a car.
The brakes on her Jeep emitted a tiny squeal in protest as she pulled to a stop in front of her house and killed the engine, leaving the front headlights on. If she were to turn them off now it would take several seconds for her pupils to dilate, leaving her temporarily blinded. Instead she drew the weapon out a little further and shifted her body perpendicular to the front wheel, staring out into the darkness.
“Hello?”
“Hello back,” a male voice said, a trace of local accent present, free of any hostility.
Kalani jerked her head towards the sound of it, her body rigid, every nerve seeming to dance with sensation. She could feel sweat enveloping her skin, her breaths quick and shallow. “Who’s there?”
The rhythmic sound of leather slapping against feet could be heard growing closer, a silhouette emerging from the darkness. As it grew closer Kalani slid the gun free from its holster and rested it against her thigh, her index finger right along the trigger guard.
“Easy now,” the voice said, offering a half chuckle with it. “You won’t be needing that.”
Step by step the silhouette grew closer, a pair of empty hands rising by its side. It continued moving until it stepped forward into the refracted light thrown off by the Jeep and stopped on the edge of the driveway. Once visible, a man that appeared to be Native Hawaiian stood before her, his height rising no more than a handful of inches above five feet tall. Watching her assess him, he reached with his left hand and extracted his wallet, holding it up with his identification visible, despite being too far away for Kalani to read it.
“My name is Kimo Mata. I’m just here to talk.”
It took Kalani a moment to place the man, his name one she vaguely recognized, the face one she had seen on television a number of times, though she was certain she had never met him in person. She stared at him a long moment before emitting a deep sigh, her body rising and falling with the effort. “Damn it Kimo, I almost shot you.”
“So I see there,” he said, raising her eyebrows at her. He lowered his hands back to his side and replaced his wallet into his back pocket. “Do all cops on leave carry weapons with them when they run out for dinner?”
Kalani looked down at the weapon before sliding it back into its holster, leaving the strap on it unfastened. “What do you want, Kimo?”
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, Kimo raised his shoulders in a shrug. “I just want twenty minutes of your time. You don’t even have to invite me in.”
Remaining seated, Kalani could think of no less than a dozen reasons why the best known investigate journalist in the state might wish to speak to her. None of them were appealing, a fact confirmed by his showing up uninvited and unannounced at her home late at night. “I wasn’t going to. You can have five.”
For a moment a look that bordered on offended passed over Kimo’s face. Just as fast it passed, his hands again rising by his sides, this time in a move that displayed his resignation. “Fair enough.”
“How’d you find me?” Kalani asked, letting her distaste for his showing up at her home come across in her voice.
“Really?” Kimo asked, the left side of his face rising in a smirk. “I’m an investigative journalist, you think I can’t track down an address? Besides, from what I hear, you’ve got far bigger concerns on your plate right now than me.”
Kalani fought to keep her face impassive. She remained seated behind the wheel of her Jeep, the driver’s door standing open, the front headlights throwing light off the side of her house. The Beretta remained balanced on her thigh, in plain sight. “Oh, yeah? Such as?”
The smirk raised itself into a full smile as Kimo looked down at the ground and then up again. “Okay, you can feign ignorance. I’ll just start with what I know and you can jump in whenever you feel like it. Deal?”
Her gaze even, Kalani stared back at him, saying nothing. She had been given explicit orders from Tseng that the investigation was to be done silently. She knew she had done nothing to draw Kimo’s attention, nor had Rip. She couldn’t imagine Tseng had either.
“I heard a rumor that a couple of nights ago a body was found on the floor of the capitol,” Kimo began. “I also heard it was cleaned up and gone by the start of business the next morning.”
As far as Kalani knew, only a small handful of people were privy to that information. Whoever had tipped Kimo off must have been one of them, or very well connected.
“I also heard that just this morning two bodies were found in the sand at Ala Moana. And just like the other night at the capitol, they were both cleaned up and moved away before the sun came up.”
“Wow, you hear a lot,” Kalani inserted, trying to make her voice sound bored.
“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Kimo said, the smile still in place.
“I also heard that showing up to do the processing this morning was one Chief Tseng, assisted by none other than former front page girl Kalani Lewis.”
Kalani drew a deep breath in through her nose, trying to ignore her pulse racing through her temples. She could feel her heart pounding out a steady cadence in her chest, prickly bits of sensation rising along her scalp.
The second half of the equation wasn’t as hard to figure out. Sturgis had been nothing short of pissed when he left, and everything Kalani knew about him confirmed he wouldn’t be above calling on someone like Kimo to prove a point.
Still, she couldn’t reveal any of this without speaking to Tseng first.
“Again I say, you hear a lot,” Kalani replied. “But I hope you didn’t pay for any of that information. Seems someone’s been messing with you.”
Using the toe of his sandal, Kimo poked at a stone along the edge of the driveway. Kalani could see the top of his scalp as he stared down at the pebble, shaking his head from side to side. “No, I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“No,” Kimo said, kicking the stone away, sending it skittering across the ground. “What I think is the two are connected. I don’t know how or why yet, but I’ll figure that out soon enough.”
The fact that he had already connected them meant he was much further along than Kalani cared to admit. He was right, eventually he would figure things out. She only hoped when he did, she had gotten to the answer first.
“Again I ask, what do you want, Kimo?”
The smile fell from Kimo’s face as he stared back at her a long moment. He pulled his hands from his pockets and raised them by his side, his body drifting towards his car at the end of the drive.
“Maybe nothing. But since I had heard you were poking around the scene this morning, and as far as I know you haven’t been cleared for active duty yet, I thought we might be able to help each other.”
Again Kalani could feel her scalp crawl as Kimo pulled himself sideways, one foot over the other, the gap between them slowly growing wider.
“If I had any idea what you’re talking about, that would be a sweet offer,” Kalani said, “but since I don’t...”
Once more the smile flashed on Kimo’s face, his pace increasing as he headed off into the night. “But since you don’t...”
He made it all the way to the hood of his car before turning back to her, hands back into the pockets of his shorts. “Should that ever happen though, keep my offer in mind, okay?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The unexpected encounter with Kimo Mata the night before still had Kalani on edge. Her first concern was the fact that her name was out there and that she was apparently fairly easy to locate. Her initial task of the morning was to call a contractor to install security lights around her place the minute they were available. Despite the overwhelming exhaustion she had felt the day before, her sleep had been fitful, the Beretta under her pillow, the .38 on the night stand. She’d given up for good sometime just after five, sitting on the picnic table she’d shared with Tseng days before, guzzling coffee and trying to wrap her mind around everything that was happening.
Most of her thoughts centered on her second major concern from the unexpected visit, namely that someone was leaking the investigation to the media. For over an hour Kalani sat and tried to determine who might do such a thing, and more importantly what their goal in doing so was.
Given the gruesome nature of the murders and the high-profile locations of their disposals, the possible motivations were endless. Factor in that the governor himself was fighting so hard to cover things up, and the number went up by a factor of two or three.
There was simply too much Kalani didn’t know. If she was going to push forward on the case, she had to be brought up to speed in a hurry.
Waiting until seven a.m., Kalani called Tseng and asked for a meeting as soon as he was available. She could tell by his graveled voice and brusque tone he was faring no better than she, the combined impacts of stress and exhaustion taking a toll. It was apparent from his tone and his hesitancy the last thing he wanted to do was risk a debriefing at the station first thing in the morning, but after a short back and forth he relented.
Provided she could be there and gone before the day shift started at eight.
Without time to swing through Pearl City, Kalani called and rousted Rip from bed, telling him to meet her at the station as fast as he could get there.
He was sitting on the front steps waiting when she pulled up, the clock on the dash announcing it was twenty-two minutes after the hour.
“Damn, how’d you manage to beat me here?” Kalani offered by way of a greeting, leaving her Jeep parked on the street and shoving a pair of quarters into the meter. Another hour and she would have had to park in a garage blocks away, but fortunately the traffic was still thin enough to provide her with the last spot in the row.
“Aloha Friday,” Rip said, looking at her through heavily-lidded eyes, his hair askew atop his head. “Makes the drive in a dream.”
“Kind of how you look this morning,” Kalani said, tapping him on the shoulder with her fist as she ascended the steps, causing him to rise and follow. “Rough morning I take it?”
“They usually follow good nights,” Rip replied, his voice thick with weariness. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed those bags under your eyes either.”
Kalani let the barb pass without comment, leading Rip up the center stairwell, both of them moving fast to avoid any stray personnel that might have wandered in early. Taking the stairs two at a time they arrived outside of Tseng’s door, Rip hanging back as Kalani tapped on the frosted glass with her knuckles.
“Get in here,” Tseng growled from the other side, Kalani and Rip both exchanging a glance before pushing inside.
The appearance of Tseng seated behind his desk matched his voice to the letter. His clothes were neat and pressed and his hair was combed, but otherwise he wore the look of a man bridled with stress. Dark circles belied his eyes and a day-old shadow of stubble lined his cheeks, his face puffy.
“Good morning, sir,” Kalani said, taking a step forward to allow Rip to enter the confined space behind her. Once he was inside he shut the door, the brittle wooden frame slamming home with a rattle.
“Chief,” Rip said, dipping his head in greeting.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tseng said, waving a hand at both of them. “Sit.”
He paused a moment as they settled into a pair of chairs across from him, the legs of the aging furniture groaning beneath their weight. The scent of stale coffee and paper right off the printer permeated the air, trapped inside by a lack of circulation.
“So what’s going on with the investigation?” Tseng said, leveling a glare at Kalani. The words came out just shy of an accusation, the no-nonsense manner in their delivery clear.
Time was precious. He wasn’t about to have it wasted.
Kalani had expected the response, having seen the way Tseng carried himself at the beach the day before, knowing another day to stew would only make things worse. Fully aware that the news she was about to deliver would only dampen his mood, she stared directly back at him and took a deep breath.
“You have a problem,” she opened. “A big one.”
The folds of skin around his eyes drew in a little tighter, but he said nothing, flicking his hand in a circular gesture for her to continue.
“Last night I got home to find Kimo Mata waiting for me,” Kalani said. Beside her she could sense Rip shift his gaze to stare at her. Across the desk, Tseng’s jaw dropped a quarter of an inch, but he remained silent.
“It was only a fishing expedition to see how involved I was, but...”
“But he’s already on the scent,” Tseng said, the previous venom gone from his voice.
“No,” Kalani said, shaking her head. “I got the impression he’d been put on the scent.”
Kalani let the words hang out there, waiting as Rip moved his attention back to face ahead
, both of them watching Tseng. The chief stared straight back a long moment before exhaling through his nose and leaning forward, resting his forearms on the edge of his desk.
“How much did he know?”
“He knew about both the incidents,” Kalani replied. “Even knew there were two girls on the sand yesterday, and that you and I were both there to process it.”
Tseng’s nostrils flared as he pushed out a loud breath, staring back at them. “Sturgis.”
“That was my initial thought, too,” Kalani said. “But he also knew about the body at the capitol. No way that came from any of us.”
“No,” Tseng agreed, twisting his head from side to side, the movement a short, contained gesture just an inch in either direction. He worked his jaw in a quick movement that resembled chewing as he stared down at his desk. “Dammit. Where are we at with this?”
Kalani flicked her gaze over to Rip. He sat looking back at Tseng, not matching her eye, content to let her do the talking.
“The ME gave us the same basic overview as the first victim. Cause of death was blood loss from a cut throat, with matching slashes across the abdomen.”
“Both pregnant?” Tseng asked.
“One of them was,” Kalani said. “They each showed heavy signs of sexual activity though, so our best guess is it was a crime of opportunity. He grabbed the pair together, dispatched of them in the same way.”
His gaze still cast downward, Tseng considered the information. After a long moment he nodded, his head bobbing up and down again. “Most likely. Terrible, but still better than a killer with an escalation pattern.”
Kalani felt her head move up and down in a nod, but remained silent. She had thought the same thing on the drive home the night before, immediately feeling guilty for finding any silver lining in such a grotesque situation.
Snapping himself out of the thought, Tseng looked down at his desk, pushing around some paper. After shoving several sheets to the side he found what he was looking for, extracting one from the pile and holding it at arm’s length in front of him. “I ran the prints through AFIS. One of the girls didn’t turn up anything, but the other hit positive for a Candy Lee, address on Maunakea, in Chinatown.”
Motive Page 15
