Motive

by Dustin Stevens

  The expansive interior of the capitol held an eerie silence as they walked through the front archway, eschewing the central area and moving straight for the bank of elevators in the corner. Tense silence fell between them as Tseng directed the elevator to the top floor, neither saying a word, anger filling the tiny space.

  In a span of less than ten minutes, Kalani had gone from being singularly focused on the scene at Zall’s to thinking of the situation she was walking into. With the exception of a few moments the night before she had never even spoken to the governor, a man that somehow had managed to change the entire trajectory of her life with his insatiable need for secrecy.

  The previous time they had spoken, Kalani had not been bashful about letting her true feelings on the situation be known. This encounter would be no different.

  The muffled sound of voices met their ears as they walked across the deserted concrete slab comprising the fifth floor, the cool night breeze blowing along their bodies. Glancing up through the curved arch above her Kalani could see the moon, a thin strip of clouds obscuring the bottom half of it.

  “Do we knock?” Kalani asked, stopping just outside the oversized doors in front of them, the top of it stretched over ten feet in height.

  “Nope,” Tseng said, reaching out and jerking the door open. A blinding spray of light poured out, illuminating both of them, their pupils contracting. Side by side they stood for a long moment before stepping inside together, letting the door slam shut behind them.

  It was the first time Kalani had been inside the office since a third grade tour many years before, though the place looked exactly the same. A massive desk dominated one end of the room, offset by a pair of sofas extended perpendicular from it. A coffee table and various smaller end pieces filled in the remaining space, the outside of the room decorated with Native Hawaiian artifacts. The only difference at all that she noticed was a budding collection of artwork on the wall, all portraits of the governor posing in various states of dress.

  Just seeing them made the venom within her rise a bit higher.

  Standing inside the room, staring back at them, was the same trio of men Kalani had met the night before. On the far left was Allen Wong, dressed as if it were a regular Monday morning at the office, his arms folded across his chest. In front of them, occupying the center of the space, was Tim Hall, his thinning hair appearing even more pronounced by the addition of a heavy layer of late night hair product. His cheeks glowed red as he stood and stared at them, his jaw hanging open.

  On the right side of the room stood Governor Dwight Randle, wearing a pair of cloth shorts and a plain grey sweatshirt, the sleeves too long and hanging down over his wrists. He stood behind the desk, glowering across at them, as if the makeshift barrier somehow made him superior to everybody else in the room.

  In the corner was the security detail member that had rushed in with Kimo’s phone at the gala, his name one Kalani had heard the night before but couldn’t place at the moment. A look of complete boredom was on his face as he waited at attention, his hands folded in front of him.

  “What took you so long?” the governor snapped, cutting off whatever tirade was aimed at Hall and directing it towards them.

  Kalani felt her chest constrict, fury swelling within her.

  “I was securing the scene at the Hawaii Kai location,” Tseng said, his voice meant to let everyone know he was in no mood for a lecture. “An officer was injured and there was an enormous amount of evidence to process.”

  Feeling emboldened by the posture of Tseng beside her, Kalani fixed her gaze on the governor. “My partner was shot and is in surgery right now. I felt, feel, like that’s where I should be.”

  Beside her, Hall drew in a sharp breath, a sound just short of a wince, the skin around his eyes and mouth tightening a bit. Whether this was meant as a warning to her or his own reaction to anybody appearing defiant in front of his boss, Kalani didn’t much care. Instead she stood and kept her gaze leveled on the governor.

  There were so many questions she wanted answered, so many things she felt she had more than earned the right to know. The entire thing was such a mess, an unnecessary amalgamation of the governor’s ego and paranoia.

  A half smile crossed the governor’s face as he stared back at her, condescension in his eyes. He stared at her a long moment before saying, “Well, I’m very sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “You mean tonight, or a week ago?” Kalani asked, taking a half step forward.

  At the sound of the words the smile slid from the governor’s face. He shifted his attention to Tseng and said, “Last time you were here I had to remind you to know your place as well. You might want to get your girl here on a leash.”

  “No,” Tseng said, his voice just as cold as Kalani’s had been, “last time I was here you threatened my family and blackmailed me into taking part in your little scheme. You made me drag her into it, too. Forgive us if we’re both feeling less than social tonight.”

  Kalani knew that Tseng had been pulled in against his will, though it was the first time she had heard that there were threats involved. Her lips parted a fraction of an inch as she fought the urge to turn and look at him, to let him know she now understand, her anger at being drawn into things wasn’t on him.

  Instead, she kept her attention aimed at the governor, saying nothing.

  “We’ll get right to it then,” Randle said, raising his hands by his sides. “Is it over?”

  Something about the way he said it galled Kalani in a way she couldn’t quite explain. The way he referred to it, the way he jumped right to the end, showed that this was nothing more than a headache he wanted to go away. She and Tseng had both just mentioned injuries sustained, but he didn’t so much as ask about them. All he was concerned with was the final product, making sure the entire incident was kept quiet, far away from pollsters and roving reporters.

  “It’s done,” Tseng said.

  “You’re sure?” the governor asked, leaning forward and placing his fists on his desk, over half of his body hidden behind it.

  “One of the guards at the house we infiltrated spilled his guts,” Tseng said, his face grim, his voice to match it. “He was just a hired hand, had no real loyalty to anybody. ID’d Zall and everybody else involved. Even took us down to the basement laboratory they had set up, got us past their security system.

  “Thing was crawling with evidence. If there was any doubt about who had done it, there wouldn’t have been after an hour in that place.”

  The governor grunted, nodding his head, seemingly content with the answer. “And Zall?”

  Kalani stared at the governor a long moment before spitting a single word at him. “Dead.”

  He matched the look, meeting her gaze, trying his best to look intimidating, but only managing to infuriate her even more. “You sure?”

  “Very,” Kalani replied. “So are his son, and his henchman, the man who actually pulled the trigger on all those murders. You can sleep easy tonight, there will be no more bodies showing up on your watch.”

  Randle’s nostrils pulled back in a sneer as he continued to level his attention on Kalani, letting it be known that he didn’t appreciate the tone or the insinuation.

  “His private doctor was taken into custody,” Tseng said. “He will be questioned in connection with at least four murders, maybe more, before being turned over to the feds for extradition.”

  Randle nodded once at the information, sliding his gaze over to Hall and Wong. He drew his mouth into a tight line and stared at them, contemplating what he had just been told.

  With each passing moment Kalani felt her disdain for him grow stronger. Still he had yet to ask about the condition of the men involved, or even if the families of the victims had been contacted.

  “And Mary-Ann Harris?” the governor asked, attention still aimed at his advisors.

  The question, the audacity of the man even thinking it, let alone asking it, was too much for Kalani. She made no attempt
to mask a loud snort, turning towards the side, shaking her head in derision.

  Directly in front of her Tseng stared at the governor, not once looking her way. “We’ll pick her up first thing Monday morning. After speaking with her, we’ll decide if any charges should be filed.”

  “And not-so-subtly suggest she bow out of the election,” Randle added.

  The words were too much for Kalani to bear.

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered, moving past Tseng, headed for the door. She could feel the gaze of every person in the room on her back as she went, her hand making it as far as the knob.

  “Young lady,” the governor called as she got there, the same paternalistic condescension as before back in his tone.

  Kalani paused, squeezing the knob so tight her knuckles showed white beneath her skin, before turning back to look at him.

  “I’ve warned you once about your behavior in this office,” the governor said, still leaning forward over his desk, his forehead showing deep red beneath the overhead lights. “I won’t do it again.”

  Pushing her breath out through her nose, loud and slow, Kalani released the knob. She pulled herself back from the door, rising to full height, and ambled back towards the desk. Every man in the room tracked her as she went, cutting a winding path.

  “Can you answer a question for me?” Kalani asked.

  Behind the desk, Randle continued to stare at her, saying nothing.

  “Why did you cut the funding to the stem cell program?”

  The red receded from Randle’s forehead as he stared at her a long moment, his gaze following her as she came to a stop on the opposite side of the desk, her thigh pressed against the edge. He held the pose, looking her over, before the corners of his mouth pulled back into a smile. Glancing over to his advisors he began to laugh, his entire upper body shaking with the exertion.

  “Is that what all this was all about?” he asked, his head bobbing up and down as he chortled. In the background, Hall and Wong half-heartedly joined in, thin responses born more from appeasement than agreement.

  Standing there, watching the man laugh, Kalani thought of everything that had transpired in the last week. She thought of the four lives that were lost, the children that were traumatized by being kidnapped, their teeth extracted. She thought of her partner lying in surgery, of all the secrecy that had shrouded everything.

  She thought of how she had been jerked back into a life she was now certain she wanted no part of, all to feed the political ego of the pint-sized prick across from her.

  The fist was cocked by her shoulder before she even realized it, her entire body coiled tight. Without warning she unfurled it, her arm becoming a piston, driving her middle knuckle into the exposed and unprotected bridge of his nose.

  The laughter died away instantly, replaced by the sound of bone on bone contact. The momentum of her punch pushed her arm out to full extension, replacing the space his head had occupied as he toppled backwards, his body landing in his chair, the wheels of it sliding back away from the desk.

  Adrenaline pulsing through her, Kalani stood over the desk glaring down at him, ignoring her busted knuckles, the tendril of blood dripping down between her fingers. Instead she focused on the squat man before her, the look of shock on his face as he held his hands to his face, a stripe of crimson running down over his lips, hanging from his chin.

  “Aren’t...aren’t you going to do something?” he bellowed, turning and staring up at his security guard standing just feet away.

  Every person in the room shifted their attention towards him, watching as for the briefest of moments a look mixed of pride and amusement passed over his face. In the next it was gone, replaced by a mirrored impassiveness.

  “No,” he said, fixing his gaze on Kalani. “I think the young lady is done here. Right?”

  “Right,” Kalani said, rotating on the ball of her foot and marching from the room, Tseng right behind her.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The world was still dark as Kimo aimed his Ford up the H-2 freeway, headed north, away from the city. On the opposite side of the narrow median the morning commute could be seen already lining up, long rows of cars pressed back to front. The flow was moving but congested, their headlights strung out one after another as far up as could be seen.

  Beside him in the passenger seat sat Kalani, a cup of coffee cradled between her hands, the bottom of it nestled against her thighs. Despite the hour she was already awake and alert, her eyes clear, ready for the day ahead.

  Three nights had passed since she’d walked out of the governor’s office, each one spent with the doors locked and shades drawn, waiting for somebody to show up. Who they would be or what they would want she wasn’t sure, knowing full well there was no way he would let what happened go.

  In the moment, the punch had felt glorious, even more so after seeing the reaction on his face, the blood dripping down his chin. The vindication she felt was only confirmed by the reaction of the guard in the corner, most likely the same look that every man in the room had if she’d stopped long enough to look around.

  Just two brief encounters with the man had been enough for the governor to earn her enmity, there was no telling what those that worked for him full time felt.

  Kalani didn’t expect much to happen on Sunday, partly because she was holed up at the hospital and there was no way anybody would look for her there, partly because it was Sunday, and nobody in Hawaii worked on Sunday. Monday she had expected a knock on her door, every little sound in her house bringing with it a feeling of dread. When it too passed without incident, she began to feel like maybe the entire affair would do the same. So long as she stayed away, the governor wouldn’t risk the exposure of everything that had happened over one punch.

  Especially when a young lady had been the one to deliver it.

  “Seriously,” Kimo said, looking over at her, a smile that expressed disbelief and triumph at the same time. “You just pulled back and nailed him?”

  On the dashboard in front of them was his iPhone, the recorder turned on, taking down every word they exchanged. Kalani had offered to do it before, but Kimo had said it could wait, given that nobody else even knew the story existed. He reasoned that he was willing to swap some expediency to deliver a fuller story, wanting to wait and see how the governor handled things in the aftermath.

  As far as Kalani could tell, he’d done absolutely nothing.

  Releasing her grip on the coffee, Kalani lifted her right hand, rotating it to show Kimo her knuckle. A scab the size of a pencil eraser covered the top of it, blue and black bruises stretching out from it like legs on a spider. The surrounding area was still a bit puffy, though most of the swelling had since receded.

  On sight, Kimo raised a hand to his mouth, trying in vain to cover his laughter. “Damn! And I missed it?”

  His reaction brought a smile to Kalani’s face as she lowered her hand and used it to take another drink of coffee, a thin attempt to hide her own laughter.

  “And they just let you walk out after that?” Kimo asked, his disbelief scrawled across his face, permeating his voice.

  “They didn’t try to stop me if that’s what you’re asking,” Kalani said. At the time, she had not been up for rehashing what had just taken place, informing Kimo she would tell him everything in due time.

  Seated in the front seat, Kalani turned her attention out the window, watching as the Schofield Army Base slid by, formations of soldiers already out for morning calisthenics, nothing more than dark shapes in the late moments before dawn. “Besides, I got the distinct impression I wasn’t the only that wanted to do it.”

  “That I can believe,” Kimo said, adding a small smirk, rocking his head up and down in agreement.

  Kalani watched another moment as the base fell from sight, the open fields of mid-Oahu taking their place. In the early morning half-light they appeared tranquil and quiet, receding back towards the Ko’olauloa Mountains in the distance. Cook pine trees lined the
roadway, their branches stacked high in lines, equal gaps between each level.

  “It just pissed me off,” Kalani said, “the way he didn’t even bother to ask about Rip, or what happened in Hawaii Kai. All he wanted to know about was if it was done and if Mary-Ann Harris was out of the election.”

  A deep snort rolled out of Kimo as he shook his head, disgust on his face. “Asshole,” he muttered. “How is Rip doing? I talked to him yesterday, but he just kept saying everything was fine.”

  “Yeah,” Kalani said, the corner of her mouth curling up a tiny bit, recalling he same thing he had said to her over and over again the day before. “I was over there most of the day, and he’s hurting a lot more than he’s letting on. Moving really slow, actually let me get him a few things, which would never happen otherwise.”

  “But the doc gave him a clean bill of health?” Kimo asked.

  “Yeah,” Kalani said, bobbing her head. “Month or two, and a lot of physical therapy, and he’ll be back up on his board.”

  Silence fell as Kimo turned north off the freeway, taking a state route slicing through the heart of the island. The road narrowed down to two lanes, the traffic thinning considerably, as the first rays of light began to stripe the sky overhead.

  “And Harris?” Kimo asked, putting the words out there gingerly, a bit of hesitation obvious.

  Kalani kept her gaze aimed out the window, watching as the landscape changed again. Replacing the empty meadows were cultivated fields, their crops planted in straight lines. “They picked her up on Monday. She claimed she’d only been given a tip, had no direct knowledge of anything.”

  “Right,” Kimo inserted, derision in his tone. “Tell me they didn’t buy that.”

  “Not at all, but prosecuting isn’t our department. She’s not being held right now, but they’ve put her name on the watch list, told her not to leave the island.”