by Toby Neal
“That sounds very genuine, Mr. Miller. Give me some verbal abuse, please,” Sophie said. “You are known for being stubborn.”
“Is that so?” Miller huffed. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times—I come to Maui to relax and unwind! This shit with all of your security people hovering around is killing my creative mojo. This island is my refuge, and hell if I’ll let some obsessed bimbo fan steal it from me!”
“Very good, Mr. Miller. Now move away down the beach to the area we discussed.”
Miller shut off the phone without further comment, sliding it into his pocket and stomping off down the beach.
Sophie could no longer see the action as it moved out of video range, so per the plan, she switched on the digital camera installed in Jake’s night vision goggles. “Secondary camera on,” she said into her headset.
“Roger that.” Jake said. His audio piped in too, and she could hear his deep, even breathing. Her partner hadn’t even broken a sweat while she got up and stood behind her chair, shifting to ease muscles knotted with tension.
Miller continued his muttering and pacing, walking back and forth in front of the mansion, working his way closer and closer to the tree line, his outline a ghostly green seen through Jake’s night vision.
She could tell Miller was tiring by his flagging steps—and finally the rocker sat down, his back to a bank of heavy vegetation fronting the mansion next to his, a mansion Sophie knew too well from her last case.
Jake gave a sudden grunt. Sophie started as her partner lunged up and went on the move.
A pale shadow had detached itself from the bushes and swept toward Miller.
“Move in!” Jake hissed, and the camera went blurry with the power and speed of his movement as he hurtled toward their client and whoever was approaching Miller.
Sophie reached for her own weapon, pulling the Glock as she ran through the house without conscious thought, barreling down the veranda, across the porch, and out through the gate.
A cluster of dark, moving bodies marked the action, and Sophie arrived to see all three of their security team wrestling a white-robed figure. Miller stood back, still on his feet, and Sophie grasped him by an arm. “Come with me.” She gave a sharp tug. “We need to get you inside, to a secure location.”
Miller resisted, clearly wanting to watch the outcome.
“This is for your own safety, Mr. Miller!” Sophie dealt with his stubbornness by twisting his arm up behind his back. Miller emitted a yelp that reverberated in all of their comms, and Jake spared a quick glance at Sophie and gestured for her to take their client away.
“Damn it!” The rocker struggled and tried one of the restraint breaking moves Sophie had taught him. “I can take care of myself!”
“Please don’t act like a child,” Sophie snapped. Her harsh words seemed to snap him out of it. Miller stopped struggling, slogging through the sand toward the compound. Sophie let go and followed.
They had almost reached the gate when Sophie was knocked sideways by a powerful blow. She fell to her knees, fumbling for her weapon.
“Get inside!” Sophie screamed to Miller, who lurched toward the gate. “Jake!”
A black shadow hit her like an anvil, and the darkness was complete.
Seconds or hours had passed when Sophie came to—it had been seconds, she decided, because she was flat on her face with sand in her mouth as voices yelled overhead.
“Let us go or I’ll blow his head off right here. Drop your weapons! All of you!” A female voice, rough with emotion. Blondie.
Jake’s voice rumbled nearby, low and reasonable. “Clever to set a diversion like that. I can see that you’re serious. But you can understand we can’t just let you take Mr. Miller off the premises.”
“I won’t hurt him if you let us go. We are meant to be together!”
Sophie wiggled her foot—yes. All reflexes present and accounted for. She gently pushed the sand out of her mouth with her tongue as she assessed the feet moving past her line of vision: Miller’s bare feet in black jeans, and an unknown pair in white athletic shoes.
Sophie shook off the last of the glancing blow that had stunned her. Blondie, a dim white shape, backed past Sophie, holding Miller by the arm with a gun to his head. Jake and their men faced the woman on her other side.
If Sophie could get enough power…
Sophie shoved up onto her hands and knees, swinging a leg around in a powerful sidekick that caught Blondie in the back of the legs.
The woman gave a cry. Her knees buckled just as Miller shoved an elbow back hard into the woman’s solar plexus, stomping on her foot at the same time. He wrenched forward and away in one of the moves they’d so recently practiced.
A blast sucked Sophie’s eardrums as the woman’s gun fired. Sophie flattened instinctively, sensing the vortex of Jake’s movement as he leapt on the woman and bore her to the ground, wrenching the weapon away. He flung Blondie over onto her face in the sand, cuffing her. Keening cries tore from the woman’s mouth as she struggled and fought.
Sophie bounded to her feet, weapon drawn. She reached out to pull Miller behind her. “Anyone hurt?”
Ronnie and Jesse, dark shadows holding another restrained figure, responded. “All good here, Ms. Ang.”
Jake stood up from restraining the woman. “Her shot went wide, thank God. Let’s get these two inside. Ronnie, call the cops.”
Ronnie answered in the affirmative, working his phone as Jake unlocked the gate and thrust his captive forward, keeping a grip on her arm.
“Good job, Mr. Miller,” Sophie said. “I think the plan might just have worked.”
The rocker lifted a trembling hand to push his long hair out of his eyes. “And good job to you, too, Sophie. I thought I was a goner there, until you knocked her knees out from under her. Are you okay?”
“Yes. She just stunned me a little.” This was an exaggeration—a headache was gathering behind Sophie’s eyes. “Let’s go in and you can relax, take a shower. We’ll let the team handle the perpetrators and the police. You can be last to give a statement.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Miller closed the gate behind the rest of them, sighing with relief to be inside the protected walls of the compound. “I need a drink. Please don’t make me have one alone.”
“We’ll see.” Sophie’s knees were weak with reaction, too. They staggered up the stairs, leaning on each other. Antigua met them at the open glass doors with a cry of distress.
“It’s over,” Miller said. “Thank God, it’s really over.” And the rocker collapsed into Antigua’s supporting arms.
Reviving Miller, providing him with a drink, and sipping the hot toddy Antigua handed her, provided a respite for Sophie until Detective Cruz entered the den with Lei. “Sergeant Texeira wanted to come out when she heard the call on the radio.”
The two women embraced briefly. “You okay?” Lei asked, warm brown eyes concerned as she looked Sophie over. “I heard the perp clocked you on the head.”
“I’m fine. Nothing that an analgesic won’t relieve.” Sophie had her back teeth set against the pulse of a headache. “All went almost according to plan. We expected Blondie to be acting alone, however.”
“About that, Mr. Miller,” Detective Cruz said. “This is Sergeant Texeira. We’d like to take your statement.”
Miller scooted to the edge of the chaise lounge where he’d been reclining, and reached out to shake Lei’s hand. “Glad to meet any friend of Sophie’s.”
“Yes, I’m just here in a supportive capacity. Detective Cruz has been interviewing the suspects, but both are refusing to talk. We were wondering if you could come and take a look at them with the lights on—see if you recognize them. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though.”
“Hell yeah, I want to get a look at the woman who’s been torturing me in effigy for months!” Miller made as if to bound up off the couch but Cruz held up a hand.
“Not so fast. Let’s get a statement first.”
The stocky young detective took out a recorder and set it on the large glass coffee table. “Take us through the events as you experienced them.”
Miller described the plan the team had come up with to flush Blondie out. “I didn’t mind being ‘bait’ for this psycho. I was sick of the whole thing and if there was some way to flush her out of the woodwork, I was down with it.” He described the action much as Sophie had experienced it. “Then, just when I was almost inside the compound, the bitch jumped out from behind a coconut tree and knocked Sophie off her feet.” He looked down at his trembling hands, took another sip of a large tumbler of scotch over ice. “I tried to get the gate open, but I was too freaked out to remember the code, and while I was pushing buttons she hit Sophie with her gun, then grabbed me and pointed the gun at the back of my head. She’s a big girl. I could feel she was as tall as me.” He shuddered. “She whispered in my ear that we were finally going to be together, that nothing would keep us apart. Then Jake and the team arrived, and Jake told her to let me go. They had an exchange, which wasn’t going well, when Sophie popped up off the sand and knocked Blondie’s legs out from under her with a sideswipe kick.” He lifted his drink in a toast to Sophie. “My heroine.”
Sophie smiled. “We make a good team with Jake and our other operatives.”
Miller nodded. “Anyway, Jake took her down after that, and here we are.”
Cruz asked for a few more details, then stood up. “Well, we have a couple of officers ready to transport the two suspects, if you could just come and take a quick look?”
“Can’t wait to,” Miller said grimly, and stood up.
Sophie followed Cruz and Miller, Lei bringing up the rear, to the living room.
Seated on the couch, dressed in white tees and pants, hands behind their backs in handcuffs, were a man and a woman.
Sophie schooled her face not to react, but Miller reared back in surprise. “Amy? Bobby? What the hell is this?”
The woman, built narrow and dark-haired like Miller, dropped her head, shame in her posture. But the man, medium height with a bleached-blond mullet that reached past his shoulders, stared Miller right in the eye. “You just needed time with me to see that we were meant to be together, Simon.”
Sophie belatedly remembered that Simon was Miller’s given name as the rocker’s mouth dropped open. Miller’s throat worked, but no words came out.
Detective Cruz touched his arm. “So, you know these people?”
“Yes. Amy Miller. Bobby Miller. Cousins of mine from West Virginia.” The color had drained from Miller’s face. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He spun on his heel and ran out, Antigua right behind him.
“We love you, Simon! Come back, let’s give this a chance! The three of us are meant to be together!” Bobby Miller cried. “You just need to get in touch with your inner truth and you’ll know I’m right!”
The door to Miller’s suite slammed in answer.
Jake pushed off from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Let’s give Mr. Miller the night off from the rest of this circus now that he’s made a positive identification.”
“We can do that,” Cruz agreed. “Now which one of you wants to give your statement first?”
“I’d like an attorney,” Bobby Miller said. Apparently, his delusion about Miller didn’t extend to forgetting his legal rights. “And so would Amy.”
Amy still didn’t look up, but nodded in agreement. Sophie’s mind whirled—Blondie was a twosome! So much for Dr. Kinoshita’s psych profile. What had these twisted relatives planned to do to Miller? Hopefully some answers would be forthcoming, but not tonight, as Cruz gave up trying to get them to talk after a few minutes. “You two can spend the night in jail and we’ll see you in the morning when your lawyers have been contacted.”
Lei touched Sophie’s arm as she followed Cruz and a couple of uniforms out of the house, escorting the prisoners to a police cruiser parked in the turnaround. “Before this case wraps up, you should come to dinner. Kiet would love to see his Aunty Sophie.”
“Unfortunately, I’m going back to Oahu tomorrow.” Sophie said as she hugged Lei goodbye. “And now, I need an aspirin and bed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sophie looked out the window of the Hawaiian Airlines plane at the ruffled cobalt surface of the ocean below, late in the afternoon of the next day. Maui rose behind her like a great green-gold turtle, clouds caught on its contoured shell. The short interisland flights were sometimes so low she could see whales swimming below—but not today.
Sophie had pulled together her few possessions and bade farewell to Shank Miller with many thanks and alohas. She had promised to return to train the AI software in a week or two, but in the meantime, she was anxious to get home to Connor and Ginger, and to give the FBI the limited intel she had on the Paradise Treasures connection to Assan.
She stared out the window for the short, twenty-minute flight, watching whitecaps sprinkled like faraway snowflakes on the ocean below, mentally reviewing the case.
She’d gone to bed with a pain pill, waking up logy and sore to a protein energy shake from Antigua and a “sitrep” meeting with their team. Bix piped in on Skype to hear the action resulting in Blondie’s capture.
“We’re asking Cruz to let me watch the interview with Miller’s cousins, but I don’t think he’ll allow it,” Jake said. He was upbeat and energetic as usual, without even shadows under his eyes to hint at the stress of the night before—while Sophie felt tired, her head still tender. “We don’t think much will happen with the interviews. The cousins would be smart to keep their mouths shut. I’m guessing their defense will focus on the fact that no actual harm was done to Shank or anyone else—even though Blondie was armed and tried to take him by force.”
“Agreed. I think you should consider advising Miller to pursue a civil suit against these crackers,” Bix said. “Wipe them out financially so they can’t afford to keep threatening him.”
“Crackers?” Sophie frowned. “I’m not familiar. A form of flat biscuit?”
“No. Hillbillies. Shitkickers. Rednecks. Inbred honky white trailer trash,” Ronnie rattled off the slurs with the speed of memorization. “Crackers.”
“Okay.” Sophie jotted the words on her notepad. “I’m not sure what Miller’s relatives’ ethnicity has to do with their motivations regarding our client.”
Bix sighed, loosening his neatly buttoned collar. Always a dapper man, this morning he looked a little tousled and irritable, even in the grainy feed of the Skype connection. “You’re right, Ang. We shouldn’t be generalizing. Still, someone needs to pull together profiles on these two, maybe even go out to West Virginia and do interviews with the rest of the relatives to help Miller build a case. I worry these two will be out on bail in no time. Even sentencing could just be a slap on the wrist.”
“I can do the profiles for their online presences, but I’m not available to travel right now,” Sophie said. Jesse put up a hand, volunteering to go, but Bix shook his head.
“Sophie, yes. Find out all you can about these two. But we need a seasoned interviewer to go to West Virginia and be our investigator. I’d like Jake to go, but I want to clear moving ahead with Detective Cruz first.”
The meeting broke up after that. Sophie was off for another week or so while the mansion’s cameras collected data and Miller caught up with his rest. Sophie managed to dodge being alone with Jake when she bade the team goodbye until she came back to work on the AI.
Now, she sipped her complimentary passionfruit, orange, and guava drink, a fruity-sweet concoction known as POG, and let herself daydream about surprising Connor that evening. She’d pick up Ginger, go to her own place, get cleaned up, and then surprise him at the Pendragon Arches apartment. Maybe she’d wear that fancy underwear Marcella had convinced her to buy…
Her pulse sped up with anticipation.
Marcella and her fiancé, Marcus Kamuela, were happy together. Lei and Michael Stevens were happy. Maybe she and Connor could
be happy, too, now that he was giving up his vigilante activities. She brushed Lei’s observations about Jake aside—her friend didn’t know the depth of what was between her and Connor. The Ghost was really the only thing that cast a shadow over her hopes.
She leaned her face against the plane’s window, watching the ocean below beneath its scrim of whitecaps.
What, exactly, were her hopes? They were simple, when it came right down to it: waking up together, taking their dogs for a run, fixing breakfast, getting to work side by side at their computers, each with their headphones on…perhaps he’d ask her to move in with him.
Or they could find another place together, where their office wasn’t a hidden room accessed through a closet. The thought made her smile.
Either way, being together, sharing space and a bed, sharing their lives, interests, and dogs—that was all she dreamed of or wanted. She didn’t need to get married, and the idea of children terrified her. No, just to wake up in his arms in the mornings would be more than enough.
Sophie had landed and was waiting for an Uber at the Honolulu airport when her burner phone rang. Marcella’s name showed up in the window.
“Sophie.” Marcella’s voice was tight and urgent. “Where are you?”
Sophie frowned at her friend’s tone. “I just got in. I’m at the Hawaiian Air baggage, waiting for a lift back to my flat.”
“Something’s happened. I’ll come get you.” Marcella hung up.
Sophie canceled the ride and slid the phone into the side pocket of Mary Watson’s floral dress. Her heart raced. This could not be good.
Marcella, sleek chocolate hair wrapped into a French twist, makeup immaculate, pulled up in her black Honda Accord fifteen minutes later. “I was headed downtown anyway so was able to get here quickly.”
Sophie slid into the Honda’s buttery leather upholstery and slammed the door, tossing her tightly packed duffel into the back. “What happened?”
