by Toby Neal
“Yeah.” She laughed, a little watery. She wasn’t the only one who’d had a screwed up mother, but she wasn’t ready to tell him anything yet. “We were both starved. Listen, I’ll make the couch up for you if that’s okay.”
“’Course. No hurry.”
They sat quietly. The TV, muted, flashed luminescence over the comfortable silence. Finally, Lei sighed.
“It’s been a long day.” She unwound her arms from the pillow, starting to get up.
“Stay,” he said, reaching a long arm out. “You look like you need a hug.” He pulled her in beside him with one powerful scoop, and she laughed a little, falling into the sagging cushion beside him.
“Yeah,” she said, relaxing against his side, his arm around her. Her cheek found the hollow between his shoulder and collarbone, and she felt her eyes drift shut as warmth and safety flowed over her.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday morning Lei perched on the molded plastic chair in front of the Lieutenant’s desk. Sweat prickled her palms—she rubbed them on her dark blue slacks. She heard the faint buzzing in her ears that signaled she might ‘disappear’ so she dug her thumb and forefinger into the fleshy web of her other hand, anchoring herself with the pain and making it look like her hands were folded neatly in her lap.
Her eyes wandered around the cluttered little office decorated with stacks of papers, a wall of criminology texts, some plaques erupting in rust from the humid Hilo air. She did some relaxation breathing as she looked anywhere but at the bulk of the Lieutenant, his buzz-cut head lowered to read the Incident Report in front of him.
Lei glanced out the window at a pair of mynah birds gossiping in loud chattering voices on the chain-link fence that surrounded the station. The sight calmed her and she glanced back at the top of Lieutenant Ohale’s head as he leafed through her file: the stalker letters, photocopied; the police report for the incident; copies of her Performance Appraisals for the last couple of years.
He looked up at her and sat back, his chair creaking. He took off the tiny reading glasses.
“Relax. I’ve decided on the charges: disturbing the peace and letting a dog off leash in the city limits. Couple fines, a performance review, and mandatory counseling for consequences. Think you should be able to deal with that.”
Lei let her breath out, not even aware she’d been holding it. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”
“Might not hurt to bake your neighbors a few cookies if you do that kind of thing. In any case, that’s the plan. You have a solid record up until now, and while I don’t think you used good judgment, you learned your lesson and no one was hurt. Now, what’s the situation with this stalker? Any suspects?”
“Nothing.” Lei sat back, threw her hands up. “No clues. I can’t think of anybody who this could be except maybe one of my neighbors. He kinda creeps me out but nothing solid to go on. He’s a water inspector—Tom Watanabe.”
The Lieutenant gave her a sharp look, put the glasses back on, and typed Tom’s name into the database. They waited a few minutes for the aged system to process, then he swiveled the monitor so she could see.
“No priors. He’s clean.”
“I don’t know what could have brought this on.” Lei rubbed Stevens’ card which she’d put in her pocket that morning. “I haven’t even dated anybody since I moved here two years ago.”
“I tell you what’s weird, that a pretty girl like you hasn’t been out in two years. Something wrong with that, fo’ sure. Anyway, how’s helping with the Mohuli`i case going?”
“Okay.” Lei sat forward. “We got nowhere with the girl who ID’d the sugar daddy in the truck, but Stevens is running down some leads on the girls’ cell phone records that might help us.”
The Lieutenant pressed down the old-fashioned intercom button on his desk.
“Irene? Find Stevens and get him in here.”
Her tinny voice echoed: “Yes, sir. He may be out in the field. I’ll let you know.”
The Lieutenant sat back, interlocking his fingers over his belly. He seemed to feel no need for small talk, and Lei slumped a bit in her hard chair. Relief was making her a little dizzy, and she remembered she had been too nervous to eat breakfast.
“Hey, Lieutenant.” Pono stuck his head in, a worried crease between his brows. “Everything okay?”
“We got some consequences for the perp here,” Lieutenant Ohale said, gesturing to Lei. Pono eased his muscular frame into the room.
“Like what?”
The Lieutenant gestured to Lei.
“Fines, a performance review, and mandatory counseling,” Lei recited.
“Whatever it takes to get this girl some counseling,” Pono said, his relief evident in the broad grin he gave them. “She one crazy-ass bitch and I’m not just talking about her dog.”
Lei glared at Pono’s retreating back. She’d get him later. Stevens came in and lowered himself into the other plastic chair in front of the Lieutenant’s desk. She opened her mouth and Lieutenant Ohale cut her off.
“Stevens, report.”
“Yes, sir.” Stevens faced the Lieutenant. “Came up dry on the witness at the high school. May have to broaden the search parameters on that: other brands of trucks, other dark colors. I think she’s a little too eager to rat out her dead friend. Ran down some of the cell phone numbers. Looks like there are some calls to one of our small-time dealers in town who may know something. I’m bringing him in tomorrow.
“Jeremy’s running down the alibi on the stepdad and it still seems to be checking out, the B & B confirms they were there. I was thinking Lei and Jeremy could go interview some of Haunani’s contacts today while I try and get in with the DA to discuss the warrant for the Reynolds house. Nothing’s really popping right now but we’ve got plenty of leads.”
“Keep me posted,” Ohale said. “Dismissed.”
Lei stuck her head over the top of Jeremy and Stevens’s cubicle a little later.
“Hey, Jeremy,” she said. He looked up from his computer, serious, his eyes wary. She wondered why she put him so on edge. He didn’t seem to like her, and it was something to do with Stevens but she couldn’t figure out what.
“Hi. Come check out this list of addresses.”
Lei sat in Stevens’s cushy leather chair beside him.
“These are the people Stevens wants us to check out today,” he said. “All the people Haunani Pohakoa called or received calls from in the last month. We’re doing drop-bys for some of them and I called some. They’re expecting us.”
“Okay,” she said, looking at the printed list and the driver’s license photos printed next to the names and addresses. “Looks like kids, mostly.”
“Yeah,” he said. He seemed preoccupied. His short, square fingers flew over the keyboard.
“So, how come you got these nice chairs and we got those crappy old ones from the ’70s?” Lei teased.
“Detectives have a few perks,” he said, shutting down his computer.
“You’re pretty young. How’d you get the promotion?”
“My work on the Kolehole Park case,” he said. “I was able to track down the other homeless guy who beat the victim to death.”
“Nice. Any tips for me on making detective?”
He collected his jacket, gun, and badge.
“Nope,” he said. She followed him out, disappointed. He certainly wasn’t a talker.
She thought back to that morning, coming down the hall in her old kimono robe, looking for Stevens. The couch had been empty, the crocheted afghan neatly folded. Stevens had left a note under the coffee maker, which was already full of hot brew:
Had to get back early. Check in with me later.
He wrote with a bold hand, denting the little notebook. He’d drawn a smiley face underneath, and she found herself tearing off the slip of paper and folding it into a wedge she put in her pocket. The dog-eared card he’d given her had finally fallen apart.
She slipped her hand into her pocket now as she followed Jeremy f
or a long day of interviewing. The triangle shape of the folded note touching her fingers felt hard and reassuring.
She and Jeremy dropped in on six of Haunani’s contacts, all of whom had claimed not to have known who her “secret admirer” was, nor had any idea who might have had access to Rohypnol or wanted to harm her. A couple of them weren’t home and they left messages with relatives.
Far from the banter and teasing she had with Pono, Jeremy spoke only when necessary, answering her questions with monosyllables. Eventually she gave up, reading her Criminology text between the stops. She found the silence unexpectedly relaxing.
They met Stevens for lunch at Local Grindz, a popular cop restaurant. Lei started on her Japanese bento box lunch as Stevens and Jeremy hashed over the fruitless interviews.
“These kids are really upset over the girls’ murder. I think they’d tell us if they knew anything,” Jeremy concluded. His reserve was gone, she noticed. She stirred chicken katsu into the rice and added a little kim chee on top before deftly scooping it up with her chopsticks.
“What do you think about the interviews so far?” Stevens asked, turning to her.
“Nothing’s popping. Just a bunch of high school kids, and so far they’re broken up when we start talking about Haunani. We haven’t found anyone obvious she could have been getting drugs from.”
They cleared their trays back onto the counter, and Stevens draped his arm over Lei’s shoulders as they followed Jeremy out.
“My back hurts,” he whispered in her ear. “Got anything more comfy for tonight?” Jeremy turned back to them and frowned as he pushed the door open. Stevens dropped his arm when Lei elbowed him hard.
“Forget it,” she snapped. “You’re not getting in my bed.”
“Hey,” he said, trying to sound injured. “I just meant a futon or something.”
“I can work a phone if I need help. You guys are overreacting, seriously.”
Jeremy had moved ahead of them and was already unlocking the car. She hurried after him and they got in and pulled away.
There was no mistaking the icy silence as they drove to their next interview. Lei was equally quiet. Jeremy was jealous. How ridiculous, she thought. Like she and Stevens were anything but colleagues, maybe friends. What the hell was wrong with the guy?
Somehow they completed the rest of the interviews without speaking to each other.
Chapter Sixteen
He sat in his truck across the street from the bar in the waning light of evening. He’d been tracking her patterns, and today she usually finished her patrol shift and went in to eat and change before class. Sure enough, her vehicle roared around the corner and into the alley. She got out, pulling a rubber band out of her hair as she walked briskly, carrying a duffel bag, to the alley entrance into the bar.
He put the truck in gear and pulled across, parking just in front of her vehicle. He checked once again that he had everything he needed, and then slipped into the unlocked back alley door.
Inside, the hallway was empty, dimly lit by a bare, apathetic bulb. The battered door of the women’s room was to his left. He heard splashing from inside. She’d taken her uniform off to change and was having a quick rinse at the sink. He imagined her as he’d seen her through the high louvered window on another day: washing her face, skin glowing pearl in the dim light, serviceable bra and panties only hinting at her unique treasures.
He put his ear against the door and heard rustling. She was getting clothes out of the duffel bag. He slid the wire through the crack of the door, catching the old fashioned latch and pushing it up and out of its metal loop. He gave the door a hard push and it swung wide.
She jerked upright, clutching a T-shirt against her breasts.
“Hey!” she said indignantly. He registered the swirl of loose hair, startled eyes, white cotton panties: then he shot her.
The prongs of the Taser flew out and smacked her in the chest. She crumpled to the ground, twitching.
He stepped inside, closing the door. He detached the prongs and retracted it. Moving quickly but with deliberation he cuffed her hands behind her back, stuffed a kerchief gag in her mouth. He took the syringe out of his pocket, uncapped it, and drove it into her hip. He dropped a pillowcase over her head, rolled her in the sheet he’d brought. He wrapped a long bungee cord around her a couple times to secure the sheet and pillowcase. He hefted her up, staggering a little, and checked outside the door: empty. Slipping down the hallway and out the back door of the bar, he opened the passenger door of his truck and threw her in. Her head bounced off the dashboard and she slid onto the floor as he folded her legs and shut the door.
He ran back into the restroom, let the water out of the sink, gathered her purse and uniform, and thrust them into the duffel bag. Then he hurried back to his truck. She was still, her head lying near his feet, her body an anonymous mummy. The prey, captured.
The heady power of it surged through his body, a high like no other. He couldn’t resist putting his foot on her. Gave her a little kick, just a sample of what was to come. She didn’t move. He threw the truck into gear and rolled out. Glancing back in the mirror at the red Mustang left in the alley, he smiled.
Chapter Seventeen
Lei sat down at the rectangular table in her Criminology class. She put her soda cup beside her to save Mary’s place. Tonight’s lecture was on Criminal Rehabilitation and once again, she was behind on the reading. She opened her textbook, skimming the chapter.
“Hey beautiful.” Ray Solomon slipped into the chair next to her on the other side.
“Howzit, Ray?” She didn’t want to keep being paranoid so she put on a big smile.
“Not bad. Small kine tired.” His shoulder-length hair was glossy as an otter’s pelt under the harsh fluorescent lights. He rubbed his shoulder. “I pulled something pounding nails today.”
“Oh, that what you do?”
“Yeah, construction. For the moment,” he said, with that flash of smile.
“Keeps you in shape,” Lei said, her eyes flicking to his well-developed biceps. Am I flirting? That would be a yes. He grinned, making a muscle for her.
“Got all kinds of uses for these guns,” he said.
The instructor came up to the lectern and class got underway. Mary never showed up, and afterward Ray lingered as she gathered her books.
“Like get something for eat?” he asked, in pidgin.
“Thanks, but I’ve got someone waiting at home.”
“Sure, that’s okay.”
“It’s my dog,” she said. “I have to get straight home or she’ll chew the wall down. It’s a long day for her with no food or company when I have class.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty tied down.” They walked down the hall.
“She’s like family, so I don’t mind,” Lei said. “Hey, did Mary say anything to you about missing class today? She’s always here.”
“No,” he said. They arrived at her truck and she hit the remote. The lights flashed as the door unlocked, and Lei couldn’t help smiling—it felt like the truck was greeting her.
“Like my new ride?” she said, turning to him.
“Wow.” Only his mouth smiled. “Nice.” He stroked the muscular curve of the wheel well with both hands.
“I needed something with more juice,” she said, slinging her book bag into the back. “I was sick of that granny car.”
“Good. Well, see you.” He walked away, and she stared after him. He’s not happy about the truck. Weird. Maybe he was jealous? Well, she was definitely not going out with him, she decided. She got in and fired up the truck, and then called Mary’s cell. It went immediately to voicemail.
“Mary. Where are you girl? Left me alone with Ray and he asked me out. It’s all your fault.” She shut the phone with a snap, but her smile faded.
She’d really been looking forward to seeing Mary after the day she’d had, she thought as she pulled into the driveway at home. She’d been deflated and tired as she went into her cubic
le at the end of the interviews with Jeremy, around 3 p.m. Topping it off, on her desk had been a memo assigning her to “Mandatory Counseling Session Number 1 of 6” the next day at 2 p.m.. Stapled to the back were two fine invoices for the charges the Lieutenant had authorized from the debacle with Keiki.
The last thing she needed right now was to stir up the past with counseling—it was hard enough pretending she had her shit together without talking about it. She pulled into the garage, letting the sectioned panel rumble shut as she got out of the truck. Keiki did her happy greeting bark.
“Hey baby. I hope you have dinner ready, I’m starving,” she said to the dog, rubbing her ears through the chain link and stalling another moment. She hated what this guy was doing to her. She used to like picking up her mail.
Bracing herself, she went to the mailbox and opened it. There was nothing inside but a card, the kind that shows a package to pick up at the post office, with no indication of who the package was from.
Probably Aunty sending some poi rolls. She hoped.
Pono’s deep purple lifted Ford F-250 pulled into her driveway. He was on his cell phone, the stereo blasting Bob Marley’s Buffalo Soldier. She put her hands on her hips, trying to look annoyed as he hopped out of the cab in typical after-work garb, a pair of nylon athletic shorts and a University of Hawaii football jersey.
“Whatchu stay doing here?” Annoyance called for pidgin.
“Babysitting,” he said, snapping his phone shut. “Get used to it.”
She turned, unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and deactivated the alarm. Pono came in behind her. There was nothing on the floor. She frowned to hide her relief.
