He was about to look up the number when the ring tone sounded. He didn’t recognize the caller.
“Hello?” he answered cautiously.
“Hello, Wade Parker.” The voice was low and raspy and had a slight pidgin lilt. He couldn’t identify it, but he had a feeling he knew who it was.
He played dumb. “Who is this?”
“Can’t you guess, man?
Irritation tightened the back of his neck. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“This is no game, Parker.”
“Who are you?
“Ha’akeo,” the voice whispered.
So the feeling was correct. “Jonathan Ha’akeo?”
“Ah, you know my given name.”
The coldness of his tenor chilled the blood in Parker’s veins. Jonathan Ha’akeo was contacting him? He didn’t ask where he’d gotten the number. Now he had an idea of the young man’s online search skills. “Why are you calling me?” he asked, hiding the wariness raking through his gut.
“I heard you raided a sea cave this morning.”
“Who told you that?”
“A little seagull. I wanted to let you know that you didn’t get it all.”
Warning bells went off in Parker’s brain. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. You didn’t get it all. There’s more.”
The warning bells grew louder. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you have an in with the police.”
He chuckled, trying to sound casual. “Do I?”
“I know you do. You and Nakamura. You were part of the task team that was formed four years ago.”
To hunt down his father. The young man had to have a grudge. This couldn’t be good. “What do you want?”
“I want…to turn myself in.”
Parker stiffened. “Then you should. I assume you know where the police station is.”
“I can’t. Not without an advocate.”
“They do have public defenders here.”
“I need you, Mr. Parker,” he pleaded. The warning bells turned into full-blown sirens. “If you could tell the police—explain to them that I came to you voluntarily and turned in the rest of the drugs, they’d believe you. I might get a lighter sentence.”
“Why should I believe you?”
There was a pause, then something that sounded like a stifled sob. Was Ha’aheo actually crying? “You shouldn’t, I guess,” he said sadly. “But this is all I’ve got. Please, Mr. Parker. I’ll tell you everything.”
He was feeling him out, Parker decided. Trying to learn how much he knew. “Everything?”
“Everything,” he repeated before uttering another whimpering sound. “I know I’m in trouble. I’m scared. I don’t have a father or a mother to guide me. Please help me, Mr. Parker.”
Parker didn’t believe him, but there was always an outside chance he was telling the truth. After all, it was his fault the young man didn’t have his mother to be a better influence in his life. Guilt stung him. And if he did confess, Miranda would go free.
Parker rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a breath. “What do you want me to do?”
“Meet me at the sea cave in half an hour. I’ll tell you everything you want to know and I’ll give you the rest of the drugs. And then I’ll come with you and turn myself in.”
The sea cave. Parker had put in too many years at this game not to see through a trap. Odds were that’s exactly what this was. “Not the cave. Somewhere public.”
“I can’t. I can’t risk anyone seeing me now. I’m so afraid.” There was a low moan of pain.
There wasn’t time to talk him into meeting somewhere else. And if this were a trap, Jonathan wouldn’t budge on that point. Parker had escaped from traps before. If there were even a fraction of a chance he could get Jonathan to confess to the police and save Miranda from criminal charges, he had no choice but to take it.
But he would hedge his bet. “All right, Jonathan. I’ll meet you at the sea cave. Half an hour.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Parker. You won’t regret it.”
Parker clicked off and slipped the cell into his pocket. He crossed to the counter.
The clerk at the desk was more than oblivious. He was snoring behind a boating magazine. His youthful face and buzz cut only accented a pair of protruding ears and betrayed the fact he was a rookie. Glancing at the desk, Parker spied a photo of the officer with a young woman holding a newborn. That explained the fatigue. He felt for the young man.
Spotting a small steno pad, he tore off a sheet, grabbed a pen and wrote down a message.
The poor clerk snoozed through it all. Parker tapped him on the hand. “Officer?”
He snorted, opened his eyes, rubbed his face and put down the magazine as if he had just realized he’d been caught. “Yes? What do you want? I mean, how can I help you, sir?”
Parker held up the piece of paper. “Do you see this?”
The officer scowled. “Of course, I do.”
“I have to run an errand, but I need you to deliver this note to Sergeant Balondo right away. Do you understand?”
He frowned that semi-condescending cop frown. “I not an idiot, sir.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were. But I need your help. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure.” He put the note down and picked up his magazine again.
“Did I not say right away?”
Grimacing, the clerk picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Sergeant Balondo’s not at his desk.”
“Can you take that to him?” Parker pointed at the note.
“Yes, sir. I’ll take it to him as soon as he gets back.”
Parker glanced at his watch. If he spent any more time giving directions to this rookie, he’d miss Jonathan. “Don’t forget, officer. It’s very important.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir.”
Parker turned and left the station. Outside, he called for a cab, had it take him to where his BMW was parked at the dock since this morning. He’d have to make a short detour before he rented another boat.
He paid the cabbie, got into the rental and headed for Napilihau Street.
After about ten minutes, he turned into the parking lot of a small strip mall, got out of the car and strolled into the little storefront that provided mailing services. He still remembered the number of his box. Four-twenty-eight. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys and selected the one he’d slipped onto his key chain four years ago.
The one he’d thought he’d never need.
He’d thought of this box this morning. He’d considered stopping here before going to the sea cave with Miranda. But when they were arrested, he’d known that would have been a mistake.
This was a different situation.
He opened the mailbox, drew out a rectangular container, closed and locked the box again. He left the store and went back to his car. He drove around to the back of the strip mall and parked beneath the trees for cover. He didn’t really need it. There wasn’t a soul around. But it paid to be cautious.
Carefully, he opened the package. There it was.
The Glock nine millimeter he’d used four years ago. He only prayed he didn’t have to use it again. He pulled back the slide, examined the chamber, loaded the clip and slapped it into place. Then he slipped the weapon under the belt of his jeans.
Steadying himself, he turned the car around and headed back to the dock.
Chapter Thirty
Parker had to bribe the boat owner with three times the price he’d paid this morning to get the inflatable back. Not that he was concerned about the money. What did concern him was the wind, the choppy water and rising tide that were slowing him down. By the time he reached the meeting place, he wondered if Jonathan would still be there.
But at last he rounded the cliff where the blowhole was spewing overhead and once more beheld the yawning mouth of the sea cave.
At the entrance, he cut the motor. Nerves taut
, he reached for an oar and paddled inside.
As soon as the light was gone, he switched on the anchor light and immediately saw that the cave’s ceiling, with its myriad of sharp, needle-like stalactites was much closer than before. Because the water was higher now, he knew, but it gave the place an even eerier feeling than it had earlier.
The boat floated along until he reached the bend in the river. He glided around it and spotted a speedboat up ahead. It seemed to be moored to the spot where they’d docked the inflatable this morning but the stalagmite was nearly underwater. He squinted toward the rear of the cave. A dozen light sticks had been positioned in various locations, making the area glow and casting odd shadows along the walls.
What a festive welcome party.
Parker peered over the shadowy transom of the speedboat. Backpack, cooler, general supplies. Looked like the owner was about to go on a trip.
He didn’t dare take his own rig in any farther for fear of tearing its bottom out with these rocks. He maneuvered the inflatable to a stop, stepped out and sank to his knees. He tied the line next to the other vessel, steadied the flashlight in his hand and proceeded inward. The new shoreline was about fifteen feet or so beyond the one they had climbed on this morning, the choppy water lengthening the distance with each wave.
His apprehension rising like the tide, Parker swept his light over the dark parts of the cave walls. The water had nearly reached the spot where they found the hidden marine boxes. The chains that had held them in place rattled as the tide went in and out.
No sign of Ha’aheo.
He had a bad feeling about this. He switched the flashlight to his left hand and with the other drew his gun.
Noiselessly as he could, he moved to the cave’s wall, the moist air in his nostrils, the sound of the waves in his ears, his steps tentative on the stony floor. The clusters of sharp, knobby spires threatened below and above as he crept along. Jonathan could be hiding in any gap or fissure. Parker could walk right past him and not see him.
Forward was the best choice, he surmised. He crept along, inching toward the cave’s rear. Then just beyond a set of rocky slabs that reminded him of ancient Greek ruins, he spotted a large cleft he’d seen this morning. No light there, the rift was as black as night.
That was where Ha’aheo was hiding.
His Glock pointed straight at the opening, he moved silently toward it. Keeping his flash down, he decided to use it only at the last moment to startle the killer with a beam in his eyes. He was no more than ten feet away when Jonathan stepped out from the crevice. He wore a hungry smile. And he had a .45 in his hand.
“So this is the famous Wade Parker,” he sneered in that raspy pidgin lilt.
He must have seen Parker coming and had decided a frontal approach was his best option. That meant he wasn’t stupid.
“Wade Russell Parker the Third,” Parker corrected, slipping the flashlight onto his belt to put both hands on the Glock.
“That’s right. You’re one of those well-bred assholes.” Not the same attitude he’d had on the phone.
Parker took in the sight of the man who was half his age. His jaw and forehead had a square shape. He’d slicked back his black hair with gel. Thick black brows, dark narrow eyes. He was his father’s son. But at six four and possibly two hundred twenty pounds, he was bigger than his father. More muscular. He wore a black fishnet muscle shirt and tight black slacks. The shirt was made to show off his admirable physique as surely as the tattoos that littered his deltoids and biceps were meant to intimidate.
He must spend a lot of time working out. And in the tattoo parlor.
Parker ignored his insult. And the gun. “I’m here, Jonathan. Are you ready to talk?”
His eyes on the Glock, Ha’aheo shrugged as if he didn’t know what Parker meant. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Don’t you have something to tell me?” He needed a confession. He wasn’t about to leave without one.
“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?” The young man laughed. Not quite a cocky laugh. He wasn’t as sure of himself as he pretended.
Parker dared a step toward him and tried a gentle approach. “Jonathan, why don’t you put that weapon down?”
Ha’aheo backed away, a flicker of alarm on his face. “Why should I do that?”
“So we can have a conversation.”
“About what?”
Parker’s store of patience was nearly empty by now, but he drew on it once more. “You can start by telling me what happened to Keola Hakumele.”
“I have a better idea, PI. You put your weapon down.”
“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I can’t do that. It looks like we have a standoff.” Just like with his father. Parker really didn’t want to have to shoot the boy.
“Let me put it this way. If you don’t put down your gun, I’ll fire. I won’t ask again.”
Parker clucked his tongue. “Jonathan. Do you really want a gunfight with all these jagged surfaces? So easy for a bullet to ricochet and hit the shooter.”
He watched him weigh the pros and cons of that. “Tell me what happened that night,” he pressed.
“Why do you want to know that?”
“It’s my job.” Casually, Parker moved another inch closer to the young man. This time Ha’aheo didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s right, you think you’re one of the good guys.” He said it like it was a disease.
“Was Keola one of the good guys?”
“He was a nosy asshole who should have minded his own business.”
“Did he find out about your ‘business’?” Without taking his eyes off the boy, Parker nodded to where the marine boxes had been.”
“I thought he had.” Something in the young man seemed to snap. “I hated that prick ever since high school.”
“You knew him for a long time, then?”
“We were freshmen together. Before I dropped out. Everybody in the whole school worshipped him because he could toss a lighted stick around. Especially the girls. I thought it was stupid. He was always so high-and-mighty.”
“You would have liked to kill him back then.”
“No. Hell, no. I forgot about the dumb shit. He called me and wanted to meet me that night. I told him to come to the blowhole.”
“What did he want to talk about?”
Ha’aheo fisted his free hand and glowered at him, but he had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were reliving that night. “His little brother.”
“His brother?” Parker feigned surprise. “What did his brother have to do with you?”
“He works for me. Yeah, that’s right. I recruited the kid for my business. So what?”
Stay on point. “And so you met Keola at the blowhole that night. What did he have to say?”
“He told me to leave his brother alone.” He waggled the gun as he spoke. Couldn’t have much experience with weapons.
“And that upset you?”
Jonathan snorted as if the question were ridiculous. “I asked him to join me.”
“And?” Parked inched a little closer.
“What do you think? The snob refused. He thought he was too good to work with me. He was such a stuck up prick.”
Too bad Miranda wasn’t here. Those words would make her beat the young man to a pulp, .45 or no .45. Parker preferred a subtler way of dealing with this hoodlum. “And so you threatened him.”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, seething over what had happened. He had to get it out. “I told that sonofabitch that his brother was lost to him and if he ever betrayed me he’d find himself in a ditch somewhere.”
“And that was all?”
“It would’ve been. But the fucker swung at me.” His passion rose and the shift turned into a sort of hip-hop step. Suddenly, despite his size, his tough talk and even the grisly action he was describing, he seemed like a lost child.
Parker dared to take a full step toward the young man. Ha’aheo didn’t seem to see him anymor
e. “So it was self defense?”
“Sure as hell was. What could I do? I swung back. I socked him hard in the face. He fell over and hit his head on the rocks. It was an accident.”
“Keola had more than one head wound.”
“He wouldn’t stop. He told me I couldn’t have his brother. That he was going to the police. So I went a little crazy. I grabbed him by the throat and bashed his head into the rocks. He passed out. I thought he was dead.”
Parker waited for him to go on.
Waving the gun, Jonathan began to pace. Parker moved in a bit. He was just a leg’s length away. “Things had been going so good. I couldn’t have him messing it all up. I couldn’t have a murder rap now. So I picked him up and tossed him in the blowhole. I figured the tide would suck him out to sea, like some of the dumbshit haoles who come here.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No. Somebody found him and pulled him out. Maybe he wasn’t dead when I put him in. Maybe he drowned in the hole. All I know is it all went to hell after that.” He fell silent.
Parker didn’t move. He let the stillness between them stretch for a long moment before he quietly spoke. “My wife found him.”
“What?” With a look of crazed alarm, Jonathan turned to him, blinking, his gun forgotten.
Now.
Parker took a step, kicked hard and hit the boy’s wrist at just the right angle. The .45 flew from his grip and clattered onto the cave floor.
It didn’t take long for Jonathan to recover. “You goddamn fucking cocksucker.” He bent down to scoop up the weapon.
Parker moved fast. In one fluid movement, he jammed his Glock under his belt, flexed his knees and swung hard.
The uppercut landed nicely on the young man’s jaw, pulling him up and away from the gun and sending him flying against the cave wall.
Jonathan caught himself, scraping his back and looking more shocked than a moment ago. Shaking his head as if he was seeing stars, he glared at Parker. “Now you’re really asking for it, motherfucker.”
“I thought I was asking for it before.”
Propelling himself off the wall, he came at Parker. Parker danced away and threw a jab, missing his target by a hair’s breadth. Jonathan struck out and landed a punch to the shoulder. Parker moved with it, but it stung like hell. The boy was quick and strong.
Fire Dancer Page 18
