by Toby Neal
Sophie set her spoon down, turned to her friend. “He should probably go home to Kaua`i and recover, get off their radar for a while. And what about shutting down Assan’s operation?”
“That’s going well so far. We’ve got the injunction approved to seize everything we can locate that he owns in the United States. I’ve been enjoying that.” Marcella grinned the toothy, triumphant smile she reserved for evildoers getting what they deserved. “Even if we can’t extradite him, we can put a serious dent in his business, and that’s going to hurt.”
“Not enough. And it won’t do anything for his new bride.” Sophie said. “He needs to be stopped. Permanently.”
“One step at a time.” Marcella picked up her bowl and drank the broth straight from the rim. They both finished, and Sophie took a twenty out of her pocket and set it on the counter. “I think you can be confident we’ve at least shut him down in the United States.”
“It’s a start. Keep the change,” Sophie told the owner, and got a head nod and the flash of a gold tooth in reply.
“Win next time.” He shook the bill at her. “I’m planning to bet more than twenty on you someday.”
Sophie smiled, and it hurt her split lip. They untied Ginger and headed back toward her building.
“So you know I’m on admin leave, right?” Sophie said as they walked down the sidewalk. Her full belly had brought on immediate sleepiness, and now all she could think about was getting to bed. “Waxman is disciplining me for not telling him about the break-in at my apartment.”
Marcella gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’m way too familiar with being on his shit list. I don’t envy you right now. Yeah, I heard in the staff briefing—he used your breach as an example of ‘the wrong kind of independent action.’” She made air quotes. “I’m sorry. But you need some time off anyway. You can visit Alika tomorrow, take that dog to the park. Get a pedicure.” Marcella dimpled at Sophie.
“Right. I finally have time to do a pedicure. Ow. Mouth hurts when I smile.” They’d arrived at her building.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Make sure you’re okay. And brace yourself. I think Waxman’s sending Dr. LaSota to make a house call on you.” Marcella gave Sophie a hug.
“Thanks for the warning. I don’t care for that woman.”
“I don’t know anyone who does.”
“She told me I should have therapy—because of Assan. I didn’t want to hear it at the time, but…” Sophie raised her shoulders, dropped them. “She might be right.”
“Well, you don’t have to do therapy with her. Dr. Wilson is a much better choice.” Marcella named the petite blond psychologist that worked for the state police department and did contracting work for the FBI.
“Maybe I can head off Dr. LaSota by already having an appointment with Dr. Wilson,” Sophie said. “Worth a try.”
“I’ll text you Dr. Wilson’s number. See you.”
Sophie waved at her friend and tugged Ginger away from a dead toad on the sidewalk. “No, girl.” The brown, warty amphibians came out everywhere in Hawaii after a rain, and this one had been flattened by a car. Ginger loved nothing better than to roll on a dead toad, and the strong reek was hard to get out of her thick fur.
Up in the apartment, Sophie did her new security routine: relock door once inside, activate alarm, review security footage from the day on fast forward, and sweep the apartment for bugs. Only when all that was done did she open a can of food for Ginger.
“Wish you were a better guard dog,” she told the lab, giving her an affectionate pat. “But that’s okay. You’re good company, and that’s enough for me.”
She turned on her computer rigs with the fob, stripped out of her dirty clothes, and got into the shower. Under the warm flow of water, she reviewed the day.
She and Alika were both lucky to be alive. Sophie decided what she’d do tomorrow morning. There were still some loose ends she could run down, some unfinished business she could take care of, even on admin leave.
Wrapped in the dragon robe, she called the number Marcella had given for Dr. Wilson, and left a message requesting at least a phone or Skype appointment “to discuss a case and do a post-shoot debrief.”
Done with necessary reaching out, she blinked blearily at the multiple screens, and realized that, exhausted as she was, she was still lonely. Sheldon Hamilton, wherever he was, must sometimes feel that way. He had to be so alone, hiding from everyone.
She clicked on the email address she’d saved from the Ghost, and sent him a message.
“I had a hard day. I told my boss about your getting into my apartment, and he didn’t like how I handled the situation and put me on admin leave for a couple of days. Then, I went to the gym and lost my bout. Haven’t taken such a beating in the ring in a long time, and it was just fine because I was so angry. It made me feel better, but then I visited a friend who’s in the hospital, and someone tried to shoot him. We barely got out alive. I hope your day was even a tiny bit better than mine. Why don’t you tell me why you disappeared? What does that accomplish? I’m curious. I just really want to know.”
The cursor blinked, and Sophie stared at it, realizing that was the truth. Sheldon Hamilton’s disappearance just didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Maybe her conclusion yesterday was wrong. The Ghost wasn’t Hamilton after all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Ghost’s phone beeped with an alert to his secure email address. He was in the middle of a difficult section of a Bach concerto, and he ignored the tiny beep. But even as he held a note vibrating at the top end of the scale, then ripped through an arpeggio, he wanted to check it.
Only a handful of people had that email.
One of them was Sophie Ang.
The Ghost faced the windows overlooking the moonlit ocean, the music stand open in front of him. He’d been working out before practice, and just wore the silk boxers he liked for bed, a swatch of silk protecting the violin from the skin of his shoulder. He enjoyed the easy movement of his muscles, the warmed up feel of his fingers, the sensation of air on his skin and the feeling of the music coming to life under his fingers, moving through his body.
When he got to the end of the piece, he lowered the violin and bowed to Anubis. The dog’s alert eyes watched him from a graceful pose.
“I want to get that email,” he told Anubis. “That means I need to play the piece again. Delayed gratification is what makes life sweet.”
Anubis twitched his ears and blinked.
The Ghost started the piece again, and shut his eyes, giving himself over fully to the music, his mind completely silent for once as every sense and nerve ending engaged with playing it perfectly. But not just perfectly. With passion.
At the end, Anubis sat up and inclined his head.
“You’re a king among dogs.” The Ghost set the violin in its case and tossed Anubis a treat. Anubis only provided that acknowledgement when the Ghost had played perfectly.
He delayed gratification further by taking a shower. Under the stream of water he mentally reviewed his earlier live chat with Sophie Ang. He didn’t think he’d given her any clues, and he’d tried to allay her justifiable anger at being under surveillance. He hoped he’d succeeded. He’d meant it when he said he hadn’t planned to spy on her.
But now, he missed seeing her. Knowing what she was doing. Still, he knew the next overture had to come from her.
Finally, dressed for bed in a fresh pair of boxers and a thin tee, he sat down at his workstation and opened the email.
He finished reading Sophie’s note and savored the fact that she had told him about her day, even though it had obviously been harrowing.
Using a search program, he tracked everything he could find about the attack at the hospital. He blanched at the sight of the bullet-riddled wall of the hospital room where “an intrepid off-duty FBI agent moved quickly to save the life of a friend.”
No details about who it was or why they were attacked.
But he knew. Alika Wolcott
was her MMA coach and “friend.” His name had been kept out of mainstream news articles and features, but he’d followed the blog of one of the gym members at Fight Club who was speculating on Alika’s beating and the case against him.
The Ghost suspected Alika and Sophie were dating, though he hadn’t been able to confirm it. He didn’t like having competition for her, but he wasn’t going to exploit his superior position against someone who didn’t deserve it. For now, it appeared Alika wasn’t in need of anything but the hospital.
He hunched forward over his keyboard, nimble fingers flying.
Sophie drove to Queen’s Hospital and entered the cool underground garage the next morning. “You should be okay here for a half hour or so,” she told Ginger, cracking the windows and filling the water bowl on the back seat. She locked the car and glanced around in the dim acres of parked cars, wondering if there was a security guard she could ask to keep an eye on her dog. Parking garages were not safe environments, and she hated to leave Ginger. But the place was deserted, echoing with the sounds of faraway traffic and smelling of gas and rubber.
She’d put on her spare weapon. It was a comforting weight in its holster under her left armpit beneath the lightweight FBI-gray jacket. In the elevator, on the way up to Alika’s floor, she rehearsed what she’d say, how she’d explain to him who she was. There hadn’t been an opportunity for that last night.
She was met at the door of Alika’s room by Lehua Wolcott, looking radiant in a short fitted muumuu, glossy hair wound into a roll pierced by koa chopsticks, brown eyes sparkling.
“He’s much better today.” She hugged Sophie’s stiff body. “He remembered us! Remembered his name, remembered he grew up on Kauai. Just can’t remember anything about the attack.” Distress puckered her face. “I told him that you saved him. I’ll give you two some privacy. Maybe when you talk, it will help.”
The officer was back at the door, Sophie was relieved to see. He gave her a little salute of recognition. “I’m not leaving no matter who calls me.” He was wearing Kevlar over his uniform.
“Good.” She followed Lehua into Alika’s room.
“Son, this is Sophie. I hope you remember her,” Lehua said. Alika was sitting upright this time, wearing a buttoned aloha shirt over his bandaged chest. It gave him a look as if any minute he’d get up and walk out, but the casted leg, back in traction, gave lie to that.
“I remember Sophie,” Alika said impatiently. “Thanks, Mom. Give us some space, will you?”
Lehua rolled her eyes at Sophie, still smiling. Sophie could tell that she was so happy to have Alika awake she didn’t care that he seemed irritable. She shut the door gently behind her.
“Hello.” Sophie approached, sat in a plastic chair beside his bed, still tentative even though he’d said he remembered her. How much did he remember?
“Hi.” He studied her intently. “What’s with the bruises? Did you get those during the attack yesterday?” Alika’s voice was so clear, so familiar and energetic that she smiled, and winced again, touching her sore lip.
“No. Had a bout with The Breaker at Fight Club before I came to visit you yesterday.”
“Hell no, you didn’t! Man’s got a fist like a hammer!”
Sophie smiled, her lip cracking at this evidence that he remembered more recent events. “I probably shouldn’t have taken him on, but I was in a mood. I made him work for it. Six rounds with a woman. I suspect it is some kind of record, somewhere.”
“That’s my girl.” His familiar grin brought up the less-swollen side of his face. He remembered—if not their date, at least that he was her coach.
She reached out a hand and touched his arm lightly, that tattooed spot she’d made friends with. “I’m glad I was here yesterday.”
“Me too.” His good hand, bandaged, but at least not in a cast, came to pat hers briefly where it rested on his arm. “I have to go back to Kauai for awhile. Do rehab and physical therapy. Can you help out at the gym for me? Maybe run things in the evenings?”
She glanced up into his golden-brown eyes, looked away again. “Sure. You’re going to hire a manager, then?”
“I have to. Don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.” He coughed, and his whole body constricted around the obvious pain. Sophie weathered it with him and he finally went on. “My dad is going to stay back and try to get things set up at the gym and my business for me, but HPD wants my parents to get me out of here as soon as I’m safe to transport. For my safety, and they want their man back. They’re thinking tomorrow.”
“That’s soon.” Sophie felt her face settling into that expression that hid her emotions. “Of course I’ll help in the evenings at the gym. I go there anyway.”
Did he remember their date, their emerging feelings? There was no indication of anything but the collegial friendship they’d had before in his face or demeanor. This was her opportunity to cut their connection—for his safety, and for hers. Until she knew Assan wasn’t part of the equation. She drew in a quick breath and steeled herself.
“This is awkward. I get the feeling your mom might have said the wrong thing about what we were to each other. We were friends. You trained me, and I recently graduated from having you coach me. And we went on one date. We were…” Sophie fumbled for the right words. “We were exploring if we might be more than friends. But it was just one date.”
“I remember everything about it. We both know it was a lot more than just one date.” Alika’s golden brown eyes were intense as he looked at her. “But I don’t want to drag you into this situation. So for now we’re just friends, and I don’t expect you to wait for me, for all the time it’s going to take for me to heal. For things to be different for me on Oahu. For someday.”
Sophie let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“Things could change.” It was ironic that they were ending their relationship because she was worried about Assan being a threat to him, while he was afraid the Boyz were a threat to her.
“Kiss me goodbye,” he whispered.
Sophie leaned over and set her bruised mouth on his bruised mouth. The kiss tasted of blood, pain, and the saltiness of tears. It was unbelievably sweet and tender and hungry.
She sat back up, stood. Wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’ll keep an eye on the gym. Have your dad call me and we’ll get organized.”
“Thank you. Be safe.” He looked away, out the window.
“And you get well.”
Sophie turned and walked out, face in that familiar immobile mask that hid her feelings and kept her moving. She said goodbye to Lehua, telling her she was in a hurry, a work thing had come up. She fled at a trot down the hall and didn’t cry until she was in the Lexus with Ginger in her arms.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sophie was waiting in a drive-through line to grab something to eat when her phone toned. She glanced down and put on the brakes when she saw FLORENCE TORRES in the little identification window.
“I had one of those calls.” Florence’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “Apartment 14C. It’s down the hall from the other one. Someone’s moving in today.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said, but the woman had hung up already.
Someone honked behind her and she pulled forward, putting in her Bluetooth and calling Ken. “Before I get into what I called to tell you, what happened with the raid Waxman ordered on Security Solutions?”
Ken made a disgusted noise. “A whole lot of nothing. Honing and his underlings were all we could grab and they all lawyered up. It was a waste of time like I knew it would be.”
“Well, I just got a call from Torres at the kidnapping building.” She filled him in on what she knew. “Can I assist? Come in and work the surveillance, something?”
“I’ll call Waxman. We’re going to want to move in to see what’s going on in there.”
“We are still going to need to get who’s behind this,” Sophie said. “If Waxman won’t let me come in, I’ll keep wo
rking on the tech angle.”
“Sounds good.”
Sophie got a salad to go and took Ginger to the dog park as she’d planned to—there was no point to moving on the situation until she knew more. But she didn’t have a tech angle to work, she thought in frustration, stabbing her salad with a flimsy plastic fork as she sat down on the park bench. She’d followed every lead she had on Takeda Industries but she still didn’t know who was behind the apartment rental. She didn’t think the kidnapping went beyond the three dead men in the morgue.
Her phone rang again. “Waxman says no to your participating in the raid,” Ken said.
“Demon spawn of triple-horned goats,” Sophie said.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just disappointed.”
“We’re going to stake out that floor and see what comes in. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Dammit,” Sophie said.
“I understood that one,” Ken laughed, and hung up.
Sophie finished her salad while Ginger romped with a pug and a Chihuahua. Around the fenced area of the dog park, the colorful tents and beach umbrellas of the homeless village that inhabited Ala Moana Park created a peaceful, ragtag enclave, in spite of repeated attempts to dislodge them. She watched the denizens playing cards and sharing an anonymous brown-bagged bottle in the shade of a spreading monkeypod tree.
Her cell phone rang again. Sophie answered when she saw that it was Dr. Wilson, the psychologist, returning her call.
“Thanks so much for getting back to me,” Sophie said. “Is there a time we could meet or talk?”
“I’m one step ahead of you.” The psychologist’s voice had a smile in it. “I called your SAC, Waxman, and told him you had requested me. He approved it and canceled Dr. LaSota’s home visit scheduled for this afternoon. Unfortunately, we can’t meet in person because I’m on the Big Island, but we can talk on the phone. Is this a good time?”
