by Toby Neal
“Huh,” Lei said. This was what she’d expected to hear about Chang, but she didn’t believe it. And even with her hands pressed on her abdomen, she felt the strange fluttering sensation again. Could it be the baby kicking? She’d read that could be felt as early as four months. She felt her cheeks flush as it happened again, and a buoyant feeling of exultation suffused her.
Their baby was really there, growing, making itself known, right here in a meeting. She wished she could call Stevens right this minute and tell him.
“What’s wrong?” Captain Ohale’s sharp eyes had never left her face, and though she’d gotten better at concealing her thoughts and feelings, Stevens could always read her like a book, and so could her old boss.
“Nothing,” Lei said, scrambling. “I have a lead I’d like to follow up on, a place to start at least. My CI forwarded me a photo of the guys who are collecting the ‘tax’ on Maui. I wonder if we could do some facial recognition with your database. I didn’t have time to run that on Maui.”
“Sure,” Campos said. “Why don’t Kilohana and I pull up all we have on the organized gambling? And you can go to the computer lab and work on that. Captain tells us you’ll remember the way there, from your days here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lei said with a smile. “I’ll find you at your office when I’m done.”
The detectives got up to leave, and Lei made a motion to follow.
“Stay a minute,” Ohale said. It wasn’t a request. Lei sat back down, her hands still resting protectively on her waist. Kilohana shut the captain’s glass-inset door behind him, leaving Lei with Ohale.
Her old boss leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Tell me about what’s going on with you and the Changs.”
Lei shrugged. “Old business. I always think something’s up with them.”
“Not good enough. Stevens was very specific. He told me you were ordered by the FBI not to have anything to do with them. I was involved from start to finish in that bust with Terence Chang when you were in the FBI, but somehow I never got the memo on that, and I don’t appreciate it.” His voice had risen. “So if you’re here on some trumped-up fishing expedition against your old enemies and using my office as a cover, that’s not going to fly.”
The accuracy of Ohale’s conclusion chilled Lei, and she knew she needed to dispel it. Instead, she decided more truth was in order. If he found out her situation later, from someone else, trust would be lost in this valuable relationship.
“I’m sorry, sir. I never thought something would come up with them again. I thought we were done with the Changs after Healani’s death, but then we started getting threats. They escalated.” Lei told him about the shrouds and the more recent deaths of those close to her associated with them. “We have the perp in custody—or I should say, he’s been deported—but we don’t know anyone who could be after us like this other than the Changs. They’ve made it personal.”
“How do you know that? Do you have even one shred of evidence?”
“No, but listen to this.” Lei told him about the attack on Stevens and about Kiet’s mother’s murder. “It’s hard for Stevens and me to believe that this guy, a foreign national, could have navigated the US and even found our address without inside help. Accurate outside help. And I know Terence Chang is an expert with computers.”
“So you don’t have anything tying the shrouds—and that killer—to the Chang family.”
Lei frowned. “Not specifically. But who else?”
“Well, you’ve had a directive, and I’m enforcing it. No contact or messing with the Changs. Trust me when I tell you we’re all over Terence Chang like white on rice. So no make trouble over here, like you always doing.” He’d lapsed into pidgin in his agitation. “Do your job, and go home to your family.”
Lei felt her cheeks flush again. “Like a good little mama, you mean? Screw that. This shroud killer is going after my family, and I’m going to stop it.”
“Not in my backyard, Lei Texeira. Not on my watch. Let others handle this one. That’s an order.”
Lei stood up, balling her fists. “You’re not my commanding officer anymore. Sir.”
“No, but you’re in my dog patch now, and Omura’s a phone call away. Don’t think I won’t have her yank you out of here faster than you can turn around. So keep your nose clean, do your investigation with my boys, and go home in one piece. This is the last time I warn you.”
Lei narrowed her eyes, feeling angry heat flash over her, but she held herself still and let out her breath slowly. It would never do to aggravate her old boss. He could indeed get her yanked out of there, and with a police escort back to the airport. No doubt that was what Stevens was hoping. A new wave of anger, this time at her husband, flashed through her body.
“Thanks for the warning, sir, but I assure you it’s not necessary. I may be worried about the Changs, but I’d be crazy to go after any of them alone and without probable cause,” Lei said when she was sure her voice and demeanor were under control. “Thanks for the support from Vice. I’ll check back if we find a connection to my case on Maui.”
Ohale sat back, avuncular and friendly again. “Glad we understand each other, then. So what’s going on with your stomach? You feeling okay?”
Her former chief was an observant man. Lei dropped her hands from where they still covered her waist, a dead giveaway. She decided to tell Ohale—it would be obvious soon anyway. “Actually, I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations!” Ohale’s face broke into a huge grin. “Caprice is going to be thrilled to hear this!”
Caprice. Dr. Wilson, Lei’s former therapist. Lei felt her smile freeze—Dr. Wilson was going to hear she was in town and want to see her now. She’d forgotten Ohale and Dr. Wilson were dating. “Yeah, we were waiting to tell anyone until it was for sure, but I’m about four months along.”
“Well, hell, girl, you should have said so in the first place.”
“Wasn’t the time to bring it up in front of the guys.”
“Telling me would have saved you that lecture about the Changs.”
“Why?” Lei felt angry heat brush the back of her neck again. “Because I’m pregnant, I wouldn’t go after the Changs?”
Ohale narrowed his eyes. “Of course. You’d know better than to do a damn-fool thing like that with another life at stake.”
Lei felt paralyzed, hearing it put that way. Her justifications for what she’d been planning began to crumble. This really was putting more than just herself at risk, and with the fluttering of kicks underneath her waistband, it was hard to ignore that other life.
But the hell of it was, the baby was at risk anyway, with the shroud killer still out there. They all were.
Chapter 6
Stevens worked his way steadily through his half of the list of employees at Maui Sugar, checking their records. He began with those fired or laid off in the last year. Three had old drug charges, several had misdemeanors, and some had domestic violence charges. He was disappointed to find that none had any charges related to fire setting, though. He went on to current employees and added those with records to the list.
All in all, it appeared that Maui Sugar was not particular about its hiring practices—and, sitting in his air-conditioned office, he glanced out the window at the green of the nearby trees and reflected on the hot, dusty sugar mill and its sun-struck fields. No, they probably couldn’t afford to be too picky.
He called Ferreira on his desk phone. “I’ve got a list of addresses going. How about you? Ready to take a drive out and knock on some doors?”
“Gimme another fifteen minutes,” Ferreira said. “Do you want to follow up on the complaint letters, too, today?”
“No, let’s do some drive-bys and see what we come across. We can go home from there, get to the complaint letters tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, boss. Meet out in the lot in fifteen.”
Stevens hung up, and his cell phone rang as if on cue, an unknown number. He didn’t usually answer those, but maybe it was Lei, calling from that burner phone. He hadn’t remembered to save the number as a contact.
“Hello?”
“Michael.” The way Lei said his name, bitten off and spit out, let him know she wasn’t happy. That was fine. He wasn’t happy with her either. “Just got out of a meeting with Ohale and a couple of detectives from Vice. Apparently you called and told him I wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with the Changs.”
“I sure did,” Stevens said, his temper flaring all over again. “What the hell are you doing over there?”
“I’m on a case. I told you. Nothing to do with the Changs, and I resent you policing me like this. Three days. Gambling and some sort of coercion. Omura authorized it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday, if you had nothing to hide?”
A long beat went by. “When would I have told you?” Lei’s voice had dropped to a whisper. He couldn’t tell what that whisper concealed. “At dinner with Dad and Jared? After, when we were making love? It’s no big deal. I’ll be home before you know it.”
Behind Lei’s anger he heard hurt, and in her whisper there was apology and a reminder of last night’s incredible lovemaking.
Damn, he loved her, difficult as she was, and he just wanted her back—by his side, in his bed. Another lonely night without her didn’t appeal. Stevens blew out a breath, relaxing. “I might have jumped to the wrong conclusion. You not telling me, the phone not working…it seemed like you might be going off on a personal mission.”
She laughed, but it sounded strained. “I’ve got too much to lose. But I did want to tell you something. The baby kicked. Still kicking, in fact. I think we might have a hyper one on our hands.”
“What? Isn’t it too soon?” Stevens felt something welling up inside that he couldn’t put a name to. It made him smile.
“No. Four months is when you can start feeling them move. And right in the middle of the meeting with the vice detectives, Baby started wiggling. I thought it was gas at first, but no.” Stevens could hear a note of the same cocktail of wonder and excitement he felt in Lei’s voice. “I ended up having to tell Ohale because he saw on my face that something had happened.”
“I bet he was surprised.”
“Not so much. He’s happy for us—that’s all.” She paused. “We haven’t talked about names.”
“Depends on whether it’s a girl or a boy.”
“What depends? The name?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we should start thinking about it.”
“Do you want to find out what the sex is?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“God.” Lei laughed. “We’re both too scared to know.”
“I don’t care, actually. As long as he or she is healthy—but you have to be okay, too.” He hadn’t expected the roughness that came into his voice.
“I’m fine. Healthy as a horse and twice as strong. Stop worrying.”
“It’ll be easier when you’re back home.” He cleared his throat. “Since you’re over there, partying, I’m going to invite Jared over for drinking and poker.”
“Partying? You should see the nasty dump I’m in. Nah, you have fun. I’ll try to wrap this up as soon as possible. Then we can continue where we left off.”
“Where we left off? You mean arguing?”
“No. In the bedroom.” Her voice had gone husky. “I liked that thing you were doing…in the dark. I want to be the boss next time.”
“Damn you, woman.” He felt himself tightening in response to her voice, to the memory of the other night when he’d decided to get a little creative. Knowing they’d have the rest of their lives to explore every nuance of the pleasure their bodies could give each other still felt unreal to him. “I gotta go. Ferreira’s waiting.”
“And now you have a boner. My work here is done.” She hung up with a laugh.
Stevens shook his head, smiling—but a little part of him wondered, as he slid the phone into his pocket, if he’d just been played.
The doorbell of his apartment rang, an unfamiliar buzz, and the Fireman woke up, heart thundering. No one rang his doorbell.
He hurried to the door, alarmed. He applied an eye to the peephole and spotted the brown of a UPS uniform. He opened the door and signed for the package, carrying it inside after he’d relocked the dead bolt, thumb lock, and lever security bar behind him.
There was no return address, but the Fireman knew who it was from.
He got a knife and cut the tape on the package, peeling back the flaps. Inside, wrapped in bubble wrap, were several items and a printed-out letter.
To the Fireman: Here are the items you will need to breach the security of the house. This package is being delivered by one p.m. You have two hours to prep. You must be at the address at three p.m., when the man who stays in the house during the day leaves. You will have approximately ninety minutes from three p.m. to deactivate the alarm at the gate (code enclosed) neutralize the dog with the tranquilizer gun included, breach the house if needed (additional code enclosed), and set your fire. Best time to fire the house for optimal impact will be late at night. We will be watching the news tomorrow for results.
We have kept surveillance on the house for some time to detect traffic patterns and have included some footage of the interior of the house so you can plan your ignition.
Place the enclosed cloth where it will be found after the fire.
We expect results, and we will reward them—we’ve included a bonus for being prompt. You can also expect consequences if you fail.
The Fireman felt his heart thumping an uneven tattoo as he set the written instructions and codes aside. This wasn’t the same kind of excitement he got planning a cane burn. This was a family in their home. And he was going to try to kill them. For money.
The Fireman took out an object and unwrapped the bubble wrap. It was a sturdy black pistol with a box of tranquilizer darts taped to it. Another square packet turned out to be five thousand dollars in cash. Finally, there was a long length of loosely woven white linen cloth. He held it up, frowning, wondering what the significance was.
He took out another, smaller object. It was a thumb drive with a decal of flames decorating the side.
The blackmailer had a sense of humor.
The Fireman plugged the flash drive into his computer. In all his poverty, even in the worst months, he hadn’t sold his computer. It was his only contact with the world. His entire social life was on the firebug forums, where he got to interact with other people obsessed with fire.
He clicked on the drop-down menu that opened and hit view files.
He clicked on exterior security first and got a bird’s-eye view off the corner of the house of several vehicles coming and going: a silver Tacoma truck, an aging brown Bronco, and a huge black Ford F-150. That was the vehicle at the house most often, but as the instructions had said, a tall, silver-haired man came out of the house at three p.m., according to the time stamp on the video. He carried a baby in a car seat carrier out of the house, loaded it into the extended cab of the F-150, pulled out, and left for two hours, returning at five p.m.
At six p.m. a silver Tacoma arrived, and a slender, curly-haired woman got out, greeting the Rottweiler, which roamed randomly throughout the footage like a demonic djinn. At six-thirty p.m., the brown Bronco returned and a dark-haired man got out.
The Fireman grimaced as he saw the woman, carrying the baby, come down the stairs to kiss the man. They stood close together for a long moment, the man’s arms around the woman and child. Even in the grainy pixilation of the feed, he cou
ld see the love between them.
“Jesus.” He spat it like a curse, but found it had become a prayer. “Help me, God. I don’t want to do this.”
Was he really going to try to murder this family? It had been a hell of a lot easier to imagine how to do it when he’d thought only of the problem of the house and not who was inside. Dealing with just the challenge of setting a great fire, he’d been excited to do what he loved and get paid for it—until he was confronted with the human faces he was supposed to kill.
He switched to the interior surveillance and almost turned it off after a couple of minutes. There was no audio, but now, through the eyes of cameras in each room, he watched the woman and took in her quick laughter, her playful affection for the baby, and her husband. Even the grandfather and the dog began to look benign to him.
His mind scrabbled like a rat in a cage. There had to be some way out of this. His blackmailer seemed two steps ahead all the time, and clearly this family had been a target for a while.
Squelching the roil of mixed feelings, he rewatched the interior surveillance video, this time ignoring the people and focusing on the layout of the rooms and the furniture. He got a paper and pen and sketched the layout. He watched the video again and drew the positions of the furniture.
The Fireman glanced up at the clock. He had only another hour to get ready, or he had no doubt the next ring on his doorbell would be the cops—or worse. Someone capable of planning this carefully was certainly capable of putting a bullet in his head.
Working fast, he updated his ignition plan and then packed the tranquilizer gun in the big black plastic bin with the rest of his supplies. He carried the bin out to his battered truck and lifted it into the back. He got into the truck and turned it on, finally making a decision.
