by Toby Neal
“Why now, and not when you first killed him?”
“Rumor has it, some new blood trying to move up by earning cred, something like that.”
“Well, I’ll look into this. Are you safe in here?”
“I can take care of myself. You just here for the day?”
“Yeah, just today. We’re in the middle of a pretty intense investigation, and Aunty’s still at my house. I have Pono keeping an eye on her, but still I can’t be gone long. So ...how much longer you going to be in?”
“I’m done with my time in six months. Before you leave, can I get your address? Sorry to say, I don’t trust your aunty anymore to handle the mail.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Lei gave him the address and her phone number. She slipped her hand into her pocket where she’d stashed the black lava stone that morning. It felt good to rub it. He got his notebook out, did another drawing of her. This one was her as a little girl with a grin that took up her whole face. He did it quickly and passed it across to her.
“This is how I remember you.”
She laughed, folding it and putting it in her pocket alongside the stone, a hard little square she could touch whenever she needed to.
“I always did have a big mouth,” she said.
The buzzer sounded for the inmates to return to their cells.
“Watch your back, Dad.” The word sounded foreign in her mouth.
“I always do.”
She watched him walk away and the thunk of the steel door shutting behind him squeezed her breath out of her lungs with loss and again, the claustrophobia. She couldn’t wait to get out.
Leaving the big square poured-concrete building with its lacy scrim of razor wire, Lei flipped open her phone and called Pono.
“Hey there, Lei.”
“Hey. How’s everything at the house?”
“Fine. Your auntie she cleaning. Wants to know when you getting home.”
“Soon as I can.” She told him about her father’s threats from the Chang family as she got back on the bus.
“I hope that’s nothing, Lei. Those Changs—don’t have anything to do with them.”
“I don’t think it’s good intel. I think the stalker is the guy who molested me when I was a kid,” she whispered into the phone, getting “stink-eye” from the bus driver. “I’ll tell you more when I get home.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lei went up the chipped cement steps of her little house in Hilo. Keiki nosed her leg, sticking close. After she’d got home, she turned right back around to take Aunty to the airport. She’d had to pry her aunt out of the house with promises of a visit to California, but she couldn’t risk having her at the house with Charlie Kwon or whoever it was escalating the situation.
Didn’t know I could miss it so much in a day, she thought, slipping her key in the lock and taking a deep breath of the humid Big Island air with its faint plumeria scent. She disarmed the alarm and went into the kitchen to sort the handful of mail. Keiki barked happily, sniffing all the corners, and did a quick patrol before whisking out through her dog door.
“Stevens, it’s me. I’m home.”
“Glad you’re back. Nothing on the stalker call; the number was a disposable.”
“Crap. He’s been good at covering his tracks so far. Listen, you doing anything for dinner?”
She took a container of beef stew out of the freezer.
“You asking me out?”
“I guess I am. I have some food from my aunt’s restaurant, and I can nuke you up some.”
“No problem. I’m always up for a home-cooked meal, no matter who made it. See you soon.”
She shut the phone and set about her preparations. Keiki came back in from her patrol and sat wagging her stump of tail in anticipation, her triangle ears pricked.
“Okay baby, coming right up. Don’t forget I fed you first.” She set the dog’s food down, her stomach fluttering. She couldn’t wait to see Stevens, to see if she felt that fizzy bubble when she saw him. It seemed only moments later that the doorbell rang. Lei took a moment to check the peephole before she opened it.
“Hi, Michael.”
“Hey,” he said. “You remembered my name.”
She looked at him a long moment, taking in his height, breadth, and intensity—then they each stepped forward at the same time so they bumped awkwardly as they hugged. Lei laughed, gesturing toward the kitchen.
“Come on in and enjoy Aunty’s cooking.” She led him to the table where a candle burned and places were set.
“Nice. Smells good.”
“You’ll have to tell Aunty next time she comes,” Lei said, getting the warm purple taro rolls out of the oven to go with the beef stew. They ate heartily, catching up on departmental business and the progress on the Mohuli`i/Gomes case.
“Reynolds had his arraignment and made bail. Guy has some CPA connections to real money as we had the bail set at a million. We’re not making the Gomes case stick to him at all though—starting to think the cases are separate.”
“Awfully coincidental in a town of forty-five thousand. You sure about that?”
“We’re not sure of anything, just following the evidence. Thank God the search turned up Haunani’s gold ring or we wouldn’t have been able to pick him up. As it is, DA’s thinking Reynolds did the girls and the Campsite Rapist is still out there, maybe escalated to doing Gomes.”
“Still want me to help out?”
“Absolutely. Just not sure how at the moment; we seem to have run out of leads.”
“I’ve got something new on my stalker.” Lei got up, fetched the note out of the freezer. He cocked an eyebrow as she took the note out. “Don’t ask. It seems like a secure location and makes me feel better somehow. Anyway, this thing about the bath—only the guy who molested me could know something that personal. I’ve got a real lead now. His name is Charlie Kwon.”
She filled him in on everything she could remember about Kwon. He tapped the letter.
“You sure there’s no one else who could know about this? Seems pretty farfetched he’d come back after all this time and endanger himself by stalking you. That’s pretty ballsy behavior for a pedophile, especially the opportunistic type like Kwon sounds like.”
Lei stood up, paced. “There are a few people who knew his name, but it’s just as unlikely they’d use the information this way.”
“What about your father? Did he know?”
Lei paused midstride. Went over to the sink, gazed unseeing out the window. He probably did know, at least as much as her aunt had told him. It had never occurred to her to ask him. She cringed at the thought.
“I don’t know. I’d have to ask my aunt. Anyway, probably not the details.”
“But how do you know that? Wouldn’t he have asked Rosario about it, wanted to get some payback?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to call my aunt in the morning since she’s on the plane. That reminds me, he had a lead for me too, the Chang family and their connections. Said they’re threatening him because he was the one to off Terry Chang a few years ago.”
“Could Kwon have a connection with the Changs?”
“I have no idea. Another good question.”
Stevens whistled. “And suddenly we have a laundry list of suspects. Wish we had that many for the girls and Mary.”
Lei collapsed into the chair, put her head down on her folded arms. “And to think I used to think the cases were connected somehow.”
“I know, I played with that idea too. And just to add to the mix, I’m liking your friend Tom for the stalker. Means, motive, and opportunity—he’s creepy enough and it would be easy for him, right down the street.” Stevens gestured to the delicate orchid plant on the table.
“C’mon. He’s not my friend.”
“Seems like he might want to be more.”
Lei stared at him. His sky eyes were on her face, dark brows lowered. She reached across the table, put her fingers on his lips.
“I don’t like him that
way,” she said softly. “I told you.”
He captured her hand in his big, rough one, and kissed the pads of her fingers. Warm breath shot tingles up her arm.
“You know who I like,” he whispered, nibbling gently, drawing her forefinger into his mouth. She closed her eyes as he kissed and sucked his way across her palm and up her wrist, drawing her boneless body closer, scooting his chair around. Before she quite knew how he had done it, he had her in his lap, his arms around her.
The kiss was a conversation: a greeting, an acknowledgement, a statement of intent. Lei felt herself vibrating like a plucked string, every nerve ending coming alive. He finally lifted his head, looking down into her half-lidded eyes for a long moment.
“We’ve got to find this guy. I can’t hold out much longer.” Regret pulling his mouth down, he set her back in her chair.
“Wish you weren’t so noble.” She sighed, straightening her shirt. “I respect that about you. Annoying as hell, though.”
“Can I spend the night? Keep an eye on you.”
“No. Not if you’re not in bed with me.”
He groaned, pushed his hair back with both hands so it stood up in pointed tufts of distress.
“I better go then.” He scrubbed his hands briskly on his jeans as if to keep from touching her.
“Thanks for all you’ve done. I know you’re looking out for me, and I promise I won’t go out tonight.”
“You better not.” A last kiss seared her mouth with longing. She let him out, relocking and rearming, and sighed as she did.
“The bitch is back.” He watched the lights go out, and smiled, putting his camera away. He wouldn’t need it again until he had her. “It’s going to be worth the wait.”
He watched Stevens get in the Bronco and pull out, then drive around the block. He turned on the old Pontiac he was driving, and rolled away just in time to see the lights of the Bronco come up behind where he’d been parked and pull over, going dark.
The poor lovesick bastard was going to spend the night in his car watching her house.
Not that that was going to help.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Late the next day Lei went down the hall to Dispatch, checking the time she was back on the schedule.
“Hey, Irene.”
“Hey!” Irene stood and flipped her headset up, immaculate in an ivory pantsuit with coconut shell buttons. She hugged Lei. “Glad to see you smiling.”
“Who’s this?” Lei gestured to the pretty, dark-haired girl with a chic shag who sat at the switchboard.
“My niece, Tanya.” Tanya gave a little wave and smile but she was talking to a caller. “She’s been helping out. Charlotte finally quit and I told the Lieutenant that Tanya would make a good backup.”
“Good to have you, Tanya,” Lei said, and the girl nodded and turned back to take another call.
Lei went into the central work area. Pono was at his computer with a new recruit trainee, Jenkins, seated at her desk. He’d started under Pono after she got reassigned to the Mohuli`i case. He jumped up.
“Officer Texeira!” Jenkins exclaimed. Good-looking, beefy and earnest, his high complexion deepened as he got out of her chair.
“Hi there. How’s Pono treating you?”
“Good, thanks. Sorry I was sitting in your chair . . .”
“No worries. I’m off until tomorrow.”
“Hey, want to tell me more about your—um, situation?” Pono wiggled his brows, clearly meaning the stalker thing but not wanting to speak in front of Jenkins.
“Call me later,” she said. She greeted a few more people and pushed out through the stiff glass doors. She pulled out into the busy road and headed for her class at University of Hawaii. Driving there reminded her of Mary, and she endured the now-familiar squeeze of her heart. She wondered when it was going to stop hurting, and didn’t want it to—that would mean her friend was really gone.
This was her night to come home late. She’d be tired, her guard down, and everything was ready.
Anticipation hummed in his blood. He took a shower, scrubbing himself thoroughly, using a nail brush to get under his fingernails. He’d never shaved himself, but thought it might not be a bad idea one of these days. He dressed in his special outfit: black nylon turtleneck, loose black running pants. He put the ski mask on the seat beside him, along with his hunting kit, and drove to the house. Only thing left to take care of was the dog.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lei got into her truck at the UH campus and drove home. Class had been interesting, and it was good to chat with her classmates, to feel like things were getting back to normal. Ray Solomon hadn’t reappeared. It made her wonder if there was some connection between him and Mary. She needed to remember to call Lono Smith and tell him.
She pulled into her driveway. The headlights glared against the garage door as it rumbled up. She rolled her tired shoulders, pulling into the garage and hitting the remote to close the door. She hopped out of the truck, got her book bag out of the back, and went out of the garage into the darkness outside, noticing silence for the first time. She stopped, called:
“Keiki! Hey girl!”
There was no answering scrabble of toenails, no happy greeting bark. Panic surged through her as she dropped the book bag and unlatched the chain-link gate, running forward along the side of the house.
“Keiki, where are you, girl?” she cried. The next thing she saw was a shower of exploding white stars as her body flew forward, convulsing with electricity.
She came to slowly, waves of pain gathering into a pulsing point of agony at the back of her neck. She opened her eyes. Nothing but darkness. She swallowed, felt the rough dryness of cloth in her mouth. She tried to move and pain seared through her arms, as she realized they were cuffed behind her back. She moved her legs—they were tied too. She heard rumbling, felt vibrations beneath her: she was moving, and the metal ridges beneath her told her she was in the back of a pickup truck.
Terror surged through her. She couldn’t stop herself from flailing, thrashing until the searing pain in her arms and shoulders stopped the panicked frenzy of movement. She stilled herself, sucking wheezing breaths through her nostrils. The cloth bag on her head further restricted air supply.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. One-two-three in, one-two-three out, she counted to calm herself. As she got more oxygen into her lungs, she turned her attention to her hearing, noticing the grinding of the truck downshifting. It wasn’t her truck then, with its smooth, new transmission.
She berated herself—in her panic not recognizing the darkness on the side of the house for the danger it was, not realizing that of course he would take out her dog first. At that thought tears threatened. She blinked rapidly, keeping her breath steady as she turned her thoughts to escape.
She slid her hands up and down, testing the range of motion she had. The bed of the truck was the usual ridged metal. She caught her feet into one of the ridges and pushed herself forward until her head touched the side of the bed. She swung herself around again and pushed off to the other side. Her arms screamed with strain as she kept feeling for something, anything that might be useful. Nothing.
Despair washed over her. How likely was it that he’d left a weapon or the key rattling around in here? The best bet was probably to move to the back of the truck bed, try to get the tailgate down, shove out the back into the road.
Even as she began scooting herself toward the tailgate her mind screamed, No, no, no! There has to be some other way! She pictured falling into the road at high speed, the crunching of her bones as she hit the pavement, helpless to break her fall in any way, the possible collision with another car. Still, it was better than waiting for what he had planned. She’d die before she let him . . .
She reached the tailgate, rolled herself onto her knees and chin, reaching upward with her cuffed hands, fumbling along the metal at the top for the lever that opened the tailgate. The truck swayed around a corner and she f
ell sideways, feeling the crunch of her wrist against the truck bed.
She must have passed out or fainted, because she gasped as wetness hit her face. He was throwing water on her. Something was tied over her eyes now, and the gag was gone. She dragged in gulps of welcome air, stabbing needles of circulation coming back into her legs. She was lying sideways. Nausea hit her and she leaned forward, retching. Her wrist radiated a pulsing pain—probably broken.
“Goddamnit,” she heard. “Get up.”
A tenor voice. He sounded familiar. It was a good sign she had a blindfold on: maybe he wasn’t going to kill her.
She felt him grab her feet, swing them sideways off the tailgate.
“Get up. I’m not carrying you.”
She sat there, adjusting to being upright, her head swimming. She leaned forward, reaching with her feet for the ground, and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her by the arms. Her feet sank into boggy ground concealed by long grass.
“Move,” he said. She stumbled across the uneven ground, impeded by the grass and mud. He grabbed her head and ducked her under a branch, yanked her arms to get her between scratching bushes. She thought of wrenching away, of running, but he seemed to anticipate her every move, and with the blindfold on, getting away seemed impossible.
She heard the gurgle of water and suddenly the elements added up. She knew where they were: the Mohuli`i girls’ crime scene. She stopped, digging in her heels. He gave her a shove from behind and she fell to her knees. He grabbed her hair, yanking her up, forcing her to stumble forward.
“Get going, bitch. Guessed where we are by now, didn’t you? I have a lot more planned for you than those girls.”
He gave her hair another yank, this time a heave. She cried out as she flew forward, bouncing on carpet.
“Got my camp set back up,” he said. “They’ll never look for you here.”
That’s true, she thought, getting to her knees, coiling her strength inward.
