by Toby Neal
“You aren’t talking to the other cops about this, are you?”
“Nope. I don’t think I’d get the green light. I plan to tell them after I’m in.”
Jazz sat back, playing with the tulsi beads. “These are used for prayer, you know. You use them like a rosary, and say the Hare Krishna on each one.”
“Good to know. You’re going to have to tell me everything you can, and coach me on the details. Like, I don’t know what the Hare Krishna is.”
“You should know that TruthWay can be dangerous. I know. I was a part of it.”
“I knew there was a lot you weren’t telling us. I thought you said you wanted to help, you wanted the investigation.”
“I don’t think TruthWay has anything to do with it.”
“That’s not for you to decide. Sometimes when you’re too close, you can’t see what’s in front of you.” Lei gestured to the stones. “I need to take those in too.”
Another long moment, then he nodded. He got up and took a plastic ziplock bag off the desk, emptied the tray of stones into it.
“Okay. I do want the investigation—wherever it leads. I’ll get you in.”
Lei got into her truck outside the health food store. The adrenaline buzz that had carried her this far had worn off, and now, as she glanced in the mirror, her wide brown eyes looked apprehensive under the wig’s black bangs. She was all but unrecognizable, even to herself, and walking into the station in her current getup was going to cause quite a shitstorm.
At least she had the bag of stones, Haddock’s cooperation, and a good chance of getting inside that papaya-farm stronghold.
As she drove, Lei remembered the name of the man whose hand she’d recovered. John Samson. She hadn’t had time to investigate him at all, but she knew someone with the same last name. Maybe they’d be able to find another lead.
She called the restoration center and got Shellie Samson, the social worker.
“Shellie, do you by chance know anyone named John Samson?”
“I do,” Shellie said cautiously. “He’s my husband. Why?”
The adrenaline was back. Lei focused on the road and controlled her voice.
“Do you know where he is?”
“Why are you asking?”
“You first.”
“I was married to John Samson. He left me. Just up and left, no word, nothing. So eventually I divorced him.”
“Tell me about how he left.”
“We came to Kauai on vacation. One morning he just …Well. He told me he wanted some alone time, was going to take a hike on the Na Pali Coast. We’d been having some problems, and he said he wanted to think things over. He never came back.”
“You filed a missing persons?”
“I did . . . I know you’re Wayne’s daughter. Why are you asking me these questions?”
“I’m a detective with Kauai Police Department. We’ve found some evidence regarding your husband.” The sadly gruesome hand burst into Lei’s mind’s eye.
Shellie gasped—and Lei hurried on. “Can you come into the station and answer a few questions for us? I promise I’ll fill you in on what this is about.”
“Of course.” They set an appointment for later that day. Lei closed her phone.
This investigation just kept unfolding in front of her, coincidence wrapped in happenstance pointing to the next lead. Now there was no choice. She had to make the call.
She pushed the worn button on her phone and held it down.
“Stevens.”
“Hi, it’s Lei.”
“I know. Where’d you go? We had a strategy meeting and Jenkins said you had an errand.” Bless her loyal partner.
“I’m on my way.” She filled him in on the Samson situation as she turned into the station parking lot, where her courage failed at the sight of the automatic doors. “Can you meet me outside at my truck? Got some confidential information.”
“Okay.”
She put on sparkly lip gloss and fluffed up her long black wig. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t help it. Stevens opened the passenger door of the truck. His eyes raked her from head to foot.
“What the hell are you up to?” He held the door open and then reached over to tweak her wig off. It was held in place with a bit of adhesive, and she yelped as it pulled her skin. She smacked her hand to her forehead, eyes watering at the sting.
“Wow.” His eyes wandered over her head, the long black wig streaming from his hand. Lei trembled as she touched her shorn scalp, and that made her angry. She yanked the wig out of his hand and slammed it back on her head.
“You’re an ass.” She blinked rapidly and got her voice under control. “I’m going undercover.”
“Oh really? Last I checked, I was primary on the case.” He got into the truck beside her, slammed the door.
“Nothing was breaking. I had an idea and I went with it. I’ve got a way into the cult through Jazz Haddock.”
“I knew that guy was holding out on us, but I didn’t expect it from you. Take that wig back off. I want to look at you.”
“No. I like it on.”
“You didn’t even look at your head, did you?”
“Who cares about my head! What’s important is that Haddock is going to put me to work in the Health Guardian to gather intel. When I’ve established my cover, he’s going to bring me out to the TruthWay cult’s Sunday ‘love feast.’”
“I don’t even know where to begin with this. You sure there’s a connection?”
“No, but I suspect that Tiger–Jim Jones character. He would be in a great position to disappear people, and Jenkins and I narrowed his location down to this Jones papaya farm cult group. I really want to get eyes on the place, the people, look for something.”
“You’ve been busy. Busy, and not telling anybody else what you were thinking.” His voice was flat.
“Yeah.” She picked up the bag of stones, set them on his lap. “But I am getting somewhere. Haddock had these from the other disappearance sites. Also, I found John Samson’s wife. She’s coming into the station this afternoon. Claims not to know where he went, said he just went hiking and she thought he left her.”
“Son of a bitch. So our missing man has a wife right here in town! I put Fury on running down the victims’ identities, and Samson’s last listed address was California.”
“Yeah. Apparently they came on vacation. Shellie just stayed.”
A long pause as he absorbed this, looking at her changed appearance. He finally spoke. “So it’s a done deal.”
“It’s too good an opportunity for you to make me pass it up. But I definitely need backup. Haddock says the cult is scary, and after doing all that canvassing in the parks, I’m concerned about being made.”
“You should be. This whole thing is sketchy.” He glanced over at her again. “Please take the wig off—or are you too scared?”
“You can’t get me with that old ‘I dare you’ thing.”
Still, she found herself putting the wig carefully on the armrest and tilting the rearview mirror to look. Full lips and tilted almond eyes looked enormous without the riot of curls to balance her face. She shut her eyes, feeling exposed, and felt his hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t believe how beautiful you are.” His breath was warm in her ear. “You shouldn’t be—it’s dangerous.”
She found herself turning, her eyes still closed, her arms reaching for him blindly as he pulled her in. His touch filled her senses, an instant kindling she’d kept tamped down. She wound around him as far as she could reach, with the steering wheel and armrest in the way, and he stroked her body, squeezing her hard as he kissed her, as if to impress her shape on his hands. A combustible clash of need, desire, and anger left her knees shaking and her lips burning when he finally lifted his head.
His eyes were bluer than she ever remembered.
“Don’t play with me. I can’t take it.”
“I’m not playing. I just can’t marry you. That’s all I know.
” She moved farther away, trying to get her breath back.
“I hate it when you go off half-cocked, like this hippie disguise thing.” She saw the longing and fear in his eyes. “Someday it’s going to cost you.”
“It’s already cost me. I told you a long time ago I am who I am. I didn’t want to tell you anything because you’d just shut me down.”
“Impulsive is what you are. Reckless. But—you’ve got good instincts, I’ll give you that.”
Lei had parked the truck alongside the building where they were out of view. Stevens seemed to be getting his composure back, turning to look out the front windshield.
“I’ve got a couple of loose ends I need to run by you,” Lei said.
“Uh-oh.”
“Nothing too big. Esther Ka`awai wants to ‘feel’ the stones; she thinks she can tell something about them by doing that. And I don’t think I can go in the station looking like this. I want to go right over and get started at the Health Guardian.”
“I’m going to have to bring Haddock in for more interviews,” he said. “I’ll have Jenkins bring you the stones from Bennett’s disappearance site and you can take them out to the Ka`awai woman.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d have to talk to him, but since I’m going undercover . . . can you dial it back? It needs to look like he’s not cooperating with us. He says it’s dangerous, that people who try to leave disappear.”
“The guy was hardly cooperating. But okay, we’ll take it slow, meet him somewhere neutral. I want to talk to Haddock, make sure this plan with you is on the up-and-up, and I need to brief the captain on all this. Why don’t we meet at the district safe house in Kilauea?” The county-owned residence was used for various purposes by the police department and could provide much-needed privacy.
“I’ll call Jenkins and Haddock and let them know to meet us out there.”
“You just don’t want to have to walk into the station and deal with Fury getting a load of your outfit.”
Lei snorted a laugh. “You’re right about that.”
He went serious again. “You should have talked to me about this first. Or your partner, at least.”
Lei suppressed a stab of guilt. “The investigation is the most important thing, and I just knew . . . no one would like the idea. It was time to think outside the box.”
“You just aren’t supposed to decide that on your own. Jumping the gun again, Sweets.”
“Figures that J-boy’s nickname for me is the one that sticks. If it’s an apology you need, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be a team player from now on.” She mentally crossed her fingers.
He seemed mollified. “So when is Shellie Samson coming in? I’ll have to be back in time to interview her.”
“Three p.m,” she told him, putting the wig back on and tweaking it in the mirror. He gave it a long look.
“I think I like you better bald.”
“I’m not bald. Just almost. Okay, gotta get on the road.”
He didn’t take his blue, blue eyes off her. Electricity between them made the hairs rise along her arms and her heart thunder in her ears. He reached out, fingers tracing a line up her throat, along her jaw, and circling around behind her head to pull her over for another kiss, a tender invasion that left Lei’s body flushed and tingling.
“We have to stop this.”
“I wish we didn’t have to.”
“But we do. And I need to come up with a cover story. I’ll see you at the safe house.”
She smoothed down the already-crumpled hemp dress. The pull toward him was strong, and he rubbed his hands on his jeans as if to keep them from reaching for her, opening his door and stepping out. Her phone rang.
“I have to take this.” He nodded and shut the door, striding away. Her eyes followed his graceful loping stride as she flipped open the phone. “Texeira.”
“Lei, it’s your dad.”
“Hi, Dad. I called earlier—how’re you doing?”
“Fine. It’s going good. When can we get together?”
“I don’t know. I was in Lihue today and could’ve swung by; but I’m not sure what the coming week’s going to be like.”
They set a tentative time to get together as she got on the road. Lei made the call to Jazz Haddock and Jenkins, then put her foot down for Kilauea.
Chapter 19
Lei and Jenkins sat at the battered police-station discard table that furnished the safe house kitchen. She had a ball cap on, but Jenkins had pried it off first thing, and she’d endured his questions and castigations. Stevens joined them, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and straddling it.
“What did the captain say?” Lei tried not to sound anxious, but her voice wobbled.
“Wasn’t happy but said the plan has potential. Proceed with caution and keep him informed. Also no more 'cowboy antics’ or he’ll bust you down to patrol. And I quote.”
Lei blew out a breath. “Guess I deserve that.”
“Yeah, and I think he wants to give that message to you personally next time you’re in the station.”
“Better be out here undercover awhile and bring home da kine,” Lei muttered, the pidgin expression for “the goods.” Jenkins got up and hunted around in the fridge, returning to the table with a loaf of whole wheat bread. He dumped a pile of slices onto a plate.
“Dude. Really?” Lei said, as he picked up a slice and took a bite. “Who knows how long that’s been there.”
“No breakfast. We Ohio boys need fuel for the day.”
“Haddock better get here soon. I’m still deciding whether or not to charge him with obstruction for holding back those stones. I called a geology professor we consult with at University of Hawaii on Oahu. We e-mailed him photos of the rocks for identification, and he’s going to research their uses in witchcraft and other religious rituals. I think we’re going to find there’s something significant about them. I mean, how many people have the time and money to collect exotic stones out here?” Stevens took one of the bread slices, bit into it.
“That might have been true at one time,” Jenkins said, “but with the Internet, anyone could be collecting anything from the privacy of their home.”
“I think the best approach is to let me keep working the infiltration plan. I need to start living my cover story as Lani the hippie-chick seeker. I think the cult is suspicious, and they’ve survived this long by keeping an eye on everything that’s going on, probably with a lot of help from Jazz Haddock. Speak of the devil.” Lei turned her head toward the door.
The rattle of the VW van’s motor sounded like a sewing machine as it pulled in next to the other cars. Lei went to the coded gate and let him in. She followed the health-food store owner into the house. Stevens and Jenkins stared Jazz down as he came in.
“Believe you’ve met Detective Sergeant Stevens,” Lei said. “And this is my partner, Detective Jenkins.”
Jazz was a touch defiant as he took one of the cheap aluminum chairs. “I’m here. What do you want from me?”
“How would you like up to five years for obstruction of justice for withholding information and evidence in a homicide investigation?” Stevens asked.
“Bring it,” Jazz flashed. “I’ve had reason to make sure you were going to take this seriously before I disclosed anything more.”
“All right, ’nuff already,” Lei said. “You’re on board now and that’s what’s important. So let’s put that behind us and move forward. Why don’t you tell us everything you know about TruthWay and its leadership.”
Jazz looked at his gnarled hands. Jenkins took out a yellow pad and pen; Stevens put a tape recorder in front of the older man and pressed Record. But Jazz didn’t start speaking until Lei gave his arm an encouraging pat.
“It started out as a way to connect with people,” he said. Jenkins and Stevens exchanged an ironic glance, but Lei shook her head at them as the aging hippie took a deep breath and looked around the modest little kitchen. “Do you have anything to drink? Some water?”
Jenkins filled a glass at the sink and brought it to him. The older man took a long drink, the three detectives watching him. He sighed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“The TruthWay began in 1971 in the hippie encampment on the North Shore. The founders just wanted to celebrate life, each other, and this island. They wanted something different than the canned bureaucratic religions our parents had.” He took another fortifying sip.
“The group borrowed ideas and practices they liked from various different religions. Dance as a form of worship from the Native Americans. The use of hallucinogens and marijuana from Sufism and native practices. Meditation from Buddhism, and the idea of oneness and nirvana—only we believed we could achieve that state here on earth, through the pursuit of spiritual pleasure, and that there is no afterlife, only a connected Now.”
“Spiritual pleasure?” Lei wasn’t familiar with the term.
“It’s a concept the cult has. Hedonism with a twist.” His seamed mouth turned down. “As time went on I saw that, instead of becoming more enlightened and loving through our practices, we were becoming driven by addictions, jealousy, apathy.” His voice trailed off. “My brother, Cal, and I have been involved for seven years—since we got here. I tried to leave, but by then Tiger was in place as our leader, and he has a no-departure policy.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s clear that once in, you stay in. I don’t ask questions.” He folded his lips shut on secrets he wasn’t ready to share.
“What has your role been in the cult?”
“I helped organize our celebrations. I don’t have a role now, not that there are many. That’s part of the Canon—we don’t formalize positions.”
“Sacrifice anything as a part of your celebrations?” Stevens asked.
“No. Not a part of the cult’s practices, as far as I know. However, Tiger’s adding to the Canon all the time, and I wouldn’t put much past him.”
“The Canon?” Jenkins interjected. “You said that before.”
“The cult’s book of beliefs and practices. It’s kept by a cult member elected Lore Keeper. Right now that’s Peggy Jones, one of the owners of the papaya farm headquarters.”
