by Toby Neal
“Water under the bridge. It was what it was, and I love what we have now.” That comment covered his lengthy stretch in prison and the abuse Lei had suffered as a child in his absence. She followed him through the house to the front door. “Thanks for picking Kiet up. He loves his time with Papa.”
“Papa’s picking me up tomorrow?” Kiet asked from the living room couch.
“That’s right, buddy. See you after school.” In the doorway, Wayne pulled one of Lei’s ringlets playfully. “And I’ll fix dinner tomorrow, too. It’ll be like old times.”
“Seriously. Thanks, Dad. This homicide is taking all I’ve got.”
“And you should have Jared over, too. Kiet loves spending time with him.”
“Definitely.” Lei’s spirits lifted at the thought of seeing Stevens’s firefighter brother. He was always full of energy, good humor, and interesting stories.
Later, after she’d supervised Kiet’s shower, read him his stories, and tucked him into bed, she changed into her favorite tank top and boxers. Turning to face the big king-sized bed, she felt the emptiness too much to settle there. Carrying Danielle’s journal, she went back to the guest room, where she’d slept for the last two months.
In the little twin bed, Lei curled up with the slim leatherette volume. Made for taking science notes in the field, it had a water-resistant cover and thin, lined pages. Danielle had clear, concise writing. Most of the journal was impersonal: a list of fish counts in certain areas, tidal and ocean conditions, and reef descriptions, until the last couple of entries.
I’m not sure how long Frank and I can continue to keep up this farce. I found a bill for a credit card I didn’t know he had, and on it were charges for dinners out on days he said he had work meetings and for hotel rooms here on Maui when he told me he had CPA trainings off-island.
He’s having an affair. Some part of me can’t believe it, when he’s the one who pursued me until I married him. I wonder if we’d been able to have a child, whether it would have changed anything. If we would still have ended up in this place. But that wasn’t meant to be. That’s all I’ve been able to figure out from all the miscarriages.
I realize that the strong feeling I had when I knew for sure about his affair wasn’t grief at knowing that he betrayed me, but relief.
He doesn’t love me. I don’t love him. Nothing remains but to formalize it. He’s not going to make the divorce difficult.
So now I’ve had a consultation with a lawyer I’ve heard is good, Meg Slaughter. I hope she “slaughters” him, ha-ha! In the meantime, I’m still dealing with so much. The DLNR really needs the photos I’ve been giving them; there’s so much to do…
Another entry:
I slept with someone…I still don’t know if I should have. It had been too long since I’d been with anyone, and there he was in the moonlight, looking hot with his wetsuit off, saying he loved me. It felt so good to hear, and I feel something for him, too. Something new and full of possibilities. I was going to wait with him until Frank and I divorce, but what the hell. If Frank can screw someone and still look me in the eye in the morning, I can do it, too.
Lei frowned. The personal entries weren’t dated, and there were only two of them. It looked like Ben Miller might have been telling the truth when he implied they’d slept together.
Lei had been hoping for so much more information from the journal, but at least she knew now that Danielle had been in the process of getting a divorce. Not having a child was an element of the marriage’s breakdown. Lei had seen no evidence that having a child improved a troubled marriage, but not getting pregnant when you wanted to definitely didn’t help.
She knew that from first-hand experience. Her hand slid down to touch her flat belly in a familiar gesture.
Lei shut the book after using her phone to photograph the relevant pages and e-mailing them to her work computer. Meg Slaughter, Esq., was one more name to add to the long list of follow-ups.
Chapter Ten
Lei and Pono stood on either side of the drawer as Dr. Gregory popped the clasp and pulled out Danielle’s body. A waft of chemicals and the faint scent of decomp made Lei’s fingers curl, but she held her ground as Dr. Gregory lifted back the sheet to expose the body.
Danielle had been covered in her black rubber suit until her autopsy, so Lei hadn’t had a good look at her body before. As always, she was struck by the stark contrast between a live and a dead body. Danielle’s once-tan skin, now sallow, was marked by the pale lines of a bikini. Triangles of lighter skin over her breasts sharply contrasted the crude stitches of the Y incision left by the autopsy. The woman’s face looked like a plastic mask, faintly purplish with lividity from floating facedown. She’d had a nice figure, slim and shapely—but all the definition was lost as the muscles degenerated.
“She died of exsanguination and drowning, almost simultaneously,” Dr. Gregory said. “It’s kind of hard to tell which came first. The spear hit a major artery, and she essentially bled out internally.” He used a ballpoint pen to illustrate the dark coloration around the abdomen. “Lividity was less extreme than usual due to the body floating in the water, but she was facedown when you found her, right?”
“Right,” Lei confirmed, feeling a little queasy as she imagined the moment of Danielle’s death. “One of her legs was trapped between some coral and held her in place.”
“That was no accident,” Dr. Gregory said. “She was likely put there after she drowned. The lungs were full of water. What I think happened was this: she was shot, at close range, I believe, judging by the small size of the spear shaft.”
“We were just wondering about doing a reconstruction,” Pono said. “I was thinking it would be fun to shoot some spearguns into a pig underwater, or something.”
“Fun idea!” Dr. Gregory grinned, but shook his head. “Not necessary. I can tell the range was close to drive the shaft that deep into her body. Within six feet, I’d say. She was wounded, but might have had time to get to the surface and get help. The murderer didn’t want that. Probably wanted time to get away. So he pulled her regulator out of her mouth. She sucked water right away, probably too debilitated by the wound to retrieve her regulator. When it was over, he tucked her leg into the coral head to keep her there.”
“Sick bastard.” Pono’s tone was ripe with disgust.
“Doesn’t seem like the impulsive crime of opportunity it would have been for one of the fishermen,” Lei said.
“Not necessarily. Someone might have shot her, realized she could still make it to the surface, though without enough stops for off-gassing it would be dangerous. So he could have grabbed the regulator to finish the job.” Dr. Gregory took off his glasses and polished them on a paper towel, replaced them, flipping the external loupe lenses aside.
“I don’t see how it could have been the fishermen,” Lei persisted. “There were two of them. Do you really think they would have done that together? On the fly?”
“But one of them could have held her and the other shot her. Would have made it easy. Anyone who knew her habits could have ambushed her,” Pono said.
“What if she was out with someone?” Lei asked.
“Hers was the only gear in the Zodiac,” Pono argued.
“First of all, we haven’t gone over that yet, so we might find some trace in there or something. Second of all, she could have gone out with someone who went down with her, did the deed, surfaced, and got picked up by an accomplice, then went and retrieved their gear from the Zodiac.” Lei was scrambling to think of a way Frank Phillips could have done it, but it still wasn’t adding up.
Pono shrugged, looking unconvinced. “I guess.”
“Well, you two can haggle over that later. I did her blood work myself to speed things up.” Dr. Gregory handed Lei a printed report. “Nothing interesting to report—except that she was pregnant.”
“What?” Lei felt the blood drain out of her face, and she grasped the pullout shelf for support, inadvertently touching the cold
arm of the corpse. The feeling of the chill, stiff flesh took her straight back to the morgue in Hilo many years ago. She’d had to identify the body of a friend, and she’d never forget it. Pono, close to her side, steadied her—as he’d done that long-ago day.
“She wasn’t far along. Just eight weeks or so.”
Lei’s mind churned. Had Danielle gotten pregnant from her night with that unknown lover? Or had it been her husband? According to the journal, they hadn’t been sleeping together—but for how long? Lei took the reports from Dr. Gregory, keeping her face neutral.
“Very interesting development, Dr. Gregory. Could be motive.”
“Could be. Or could just be part of the tragedy, which it certainly is. I doubt she even knew she was pregnant.”
“Why do you say that?” Lei asked, looking down at the body in front of her. The features were swollen, but Danielle Phillips had once been beautiful. The essence of Lani was long gone from the husk before her, and so was the spark of life she’d carried. “She’d been trying to have a child with her husband for years. According to her journal, she’d had a number of miscarriages. So she might have been very aware of the signs.”
Dr. Gregory shrugged. “It was early, is all I’m saying. I checked for sexual activity. Swabs came back negative. The body had been in the water long enough that I don’t think I could get an accurate read on that, but I’d still guess she hadn’t had sex within the last day.”
“According to her journal, she slept with someone who told her he loved her. She had feelings, too, apparently, but had been planning to wait until after her divorce,” Lei said.
“I like Miller for it,” Pono said. “He’s a hot guy. You know. If you notice that kind of thing.”
“So you noticed that, too, eh, Pono?” Dr. Gregory teased.
“Like my wife says, and I quote: ‘I’m married and straight. Not blind.’”
“Do you need Lani anymore?” Dr. Gregory quirked a brow in question as he indicated the body.
“No. I think she’s told us all she can tell us.” Sorrow squeezed Lei’s chest as Dr. Gregory covered the body up and pushed the shelf back into the refrigerator.
“I’ll e-mail the full report to your case file.”
“Thanks.” Lei made an effort to smile. “I like your shirt.” Today’s atrocity was bright yellow with tiki gods scattered over it, and his rubber apron featured Garfield curled up in a lasagna pan.
“Keeping things interesting.” Dr. Gregory pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “This case looked like a straightforward crime of opportunity to me, but it’s getting more complex the more we know.”
“Too many suspects and not enough evidence is what we have so far,” Lei said. “Is it possible to do a DNA profile on an eight-week-old fetus? It would help us to narrow down who the father was.”
Dr. Gregory rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Oh, definitely. I’ve never dealt with this situation before. Let me consult with some colleagues and get back to you on that. In the meantime, let me know if you need anything else. I’ll take good care of her for you.” He patted the steel door of the refrigerator unit almost fondly.
Lei restrained herself from shuddering at what she imagined he’d have to do to get the baby’s DNA profile. “Okay. Thanks, Dr. G. Let us know what you find.”
Chapter Eleven
The University of Hawaii Zodiac was trailered in the Coast Guard storage lot. “We found the trailer registered to the University of Hawaii in the parking lot,” Petty Officer Aina Thomas said. He was crisp in his uniform, a pair of mirrored aviators hiding his eyes in the bright afternoon sun. “We put the backpack in a storage locker inside headquarters.”
“Great.” Lei blew into a latex glove, inflating it, and snapped it on. “We’re going to go over this craft really carefully for trace.”
Sweat was already gleaming in Pono’s buzz-cut black hair as her partner bared his teeth in a grim smile. “Fine-tooth comb, baby. Where’s that Dustbuster?”
“Right here.” Lei clambered up into the rubber craft still mounted on its trailer, carrying the handheld device.
“We’ve got cold soda inside when you’re done,” Thomas said. “Let me know when you’re pau, and I’ll get the victim’s backpack for you.”
“Thanks.” Lei turned to face the task ahead of them. “Where should we start?”
“Right here.” Pono flipped open the padded bench in front of the outboard motor, rustling through several life vests inside. “Why don’t you dust for prints? Then we can rule out the samples we’ve already collected.”
“Oh, my favorite.” Lei eyed the expanse of sun-heated black rubber.
“I think he likes you,” Pono commented, still rummaging.
“Shut up.”
“No, really. Thomas has a thing for you.” Pono pushed his Oakleys back up his gleaming nose with a finger. “He was asking me if you were still married. Said he heard some rumors.”
“What rumors?” Lei frowned, twirling white fingerprint powder over the hot rubber. Scores of prints, layered and smeared, leaped into relief.
“Rumors that you and Stevens were separated. That your husband had issues.”
“Wonder how that got started. We don’t talk about our personal business.” Lei squinted at her partner.
“Eh, no look at me, sista.” Pono held up his hands.
“Well, if anybody asks, I’m happily married. And my husband is a hero doing more than his duty.” Lei was in no mood to joke.
“You don’t have to tell me. Just thought you should know.”
That knowledge didn’t improve Lei’s mood. She was already conflicted enough about the handsome Coast Guardsman, and meeting Kathy Fraser yesterday hadn’t helped her worries about what was going on in her marriage. She pulled the sat phone out of her pocket to check it yet again. Still no message from Stevens. She squelched the stab of worry twisting her gut.
“Stevens does have issues. Anybody would after what he went through with Anchara’s murder. Finding her dying like that. Not able to save her. That’s when things went sideways for him.” Lei dusted the hot rubber, spinning the soft brush. “Dr. Wilson tells me PTSD affects one in three people exposed to a traumatic event, and Stevens—he’s had way more than his share, and it can be cumulative. If he could just get over it, he would have.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to tell me. I’ve seen a lot of good cops—firefighters, too, military personnel, victims from our cases—get messed up in the head. He is doing what he thinks he has to do. I just hope like hell it works.”
“Me too.” Lei wiped her hot forehead with her forearm. “It’s costing us. Big-time.”
It took the two of them well over an hour to vacuum and dust the whole boat down, and by then Lei was more than ready for the cold root beer Aina Thomas handed her when she went into the Coast Guard building.
“Thanks.” She put the cool aluminum can against her forehead with a grateful smile. “Man, it’s hot out there, and we have way too many prints to go through now. Got that backpack for us?”
“Yeah. Follow me.”
Pono was talking story with one of the clerks, so Lei straightened her shoulders and followed Thomas down a gleaming hall. He unlocked a door and held it open. “After you.”
Lei brushed by him, feeling that tingle again, and entered a room lined with shelves. One wall was lined with weapons lockers. Thomas went to a shelf, picked up a plastic-bagged bundle the size of the backpack Lei remembered seeing. It was marked with a big yellow ID tag.
“I climbed onto the Zodiac and bagged and tagged this myself,” Thomas said. “If anything is missing since we saw it last, someone would have gone aboard and taken it before we went back to retrieve it.”
“Good to know.” Lei took the bag and headed for the door.
“Lei?”
“Yes?” Lei looked back, surprised by the use of her first name, feeling a prickle of heat on her chest. Thomas had his hands on his hips, his tilted dark eyes
, so much like hers, serious and intent. He was closer to her height than Stevens. Once again, she felt a kinship with him, a sense of recognition.
“I just wanted to say—let me know if you need anything. While your husband is gone. Like if your car breaks down or something.” Thomas flushed a little, his neck darkening above the collar of his uniform.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Got a lot of ohana around me.” Lei smiled, doing her best to dispel the awkwardness. So sweet, a real gentleman. “But I appreciate the kind words.”
“Well, if you still want to go out and dive that wreck in Lahaina, just say the word.”
“I don’t think I can. Our son’s having some adjustment issues, and I’m just too busy. Thanks, anyway.” Lei pushed the door open and fled down the hall, feeling guilty and terrified by how much she wished she could go diving.
Lei and Pono dropped the backpack off to the new intern, Kevin Parker, who was working on their evidence processing.
“Full process on this?” Kevin asked, blinking owlishly as he took the bagged backpack.
“Yes. Catalog all the contents. Bring photos of whatever you come up with to the team meeting with the captain,” Pono said.
Kevin unzipped the backpack and gently dumped the contents onto the counter. “The phone looks important.” He thumbed it on. “Still got a little juice, but it’s password protected. I’ll give that to Murioka.”
Pono turned to Lei. “I found a T. J. Costa on the list of cited fishermen. Let’s start with him, since that’s the name Miller gave us of the aquarium poacher who threatened Danielle.”
The coin toss put them back in Pono’s truck. “More time with Stanley.” Lei climbed up into the cab and patted the chrome skull.
“Keep it up, Sweets, and I’m going to tell everyone your nickname.”
“You wouldn’t dare. I’ll tell the captain you keep fighting cocks.”
“Oh, don’t go there, sista.” Pono’s softhearted adoption of broken-down fighting cocks was a secret from everyone but his long-suffering family, who had to put up with the birds’ crowing in the mornings.
