Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “Keep out of my things. Playing the psycho-jealous boyfriend doesn’t suit you, and you might not like what you find.”

  “I already don’t.”

  They swished out through the front doors of the hospital, and Lei practically ran toward the parking area, where their vehicles were parked side by side. She beeped the truck unlocked. He leaned against the cab as she opened the door and got in.

  “Thought I’d tell you Captain Fernandez asked me to transfer here. He says he needs someone with my perspective on his team. I’m thinking about it.”

  Lei’s heart hammered. She didn’t know what it was—terror, anger, happiness. Maybe a little of all three.

  “There isn’t room here for us,” she blurted.

  “What do you mean—us?”

  “Becky. You. Alika. Me.”

  “For someone who dumped me, you seem pretty concerned about who I’m even thinking of dating.”

  “You said you were going to ask her out.”

  “That’s what I mean—always jumping to conclusions. Maybe I want to think about staying—to see if you’ll change your mind about us. You and me. Not them.”

  “Oh God. I can’t deal with this now.” She reached for the door to slam it shut, but he put his arm out and held it. She tugged to no avail, then turned the key. The truck roared into life. “This isn’t the time or place. We’ve got a meeting to get to.”

  “I’ll take that as a maybe.” He let go of the door. She yanked it shut and rolled down the window for one last word. Stevens stepped in, and as the glass slid down, he reached in with both hands to cup her face, pulling her toward him.

  His mouth was hard and a little painful, but the instant combustion of it stole her breath and objections. Lei’s eyes closed, her hands coming off the gearshift and steering wheel to wrap around the column of his neck, pulling him closer.

  The kiss seemed to be telling a story: all that had been, was longed for, could be. She sank into it, lost in sensation, a mutual claiming. Her fingers moved up to tangle in his curling hair, and she wasn’t even aware of climbing halfway out the window into his arms.

  Stevens finally eased away, looking into her eyes. His were a bruised-looking dark blue, clouded with all he didn’t say. She was stunned by the hold he still had on her, by the need he so instantly awoke—and by terror that she’d hurt him.

  Maybe that was why she couldn’t marry him. Not that any of it made sense. Some part of her knew that and mocked the repeat of a kissing scene she’d just played out with Alika—only this time she was the one sitting in the truck.

  “I’ll take that as a maybe,” he repeated, softly this time. “God knows I can’t seem to get over you.”

  She cleared her throat. Nothing came out when she tried to speak. Instead she pressed the automatic button and the window rolled up between them, a transparent barrier. He put his hand on it and she put the truck in reverse, pulling away.

  The shape of his hand remained for a few seconds on the window, outlined in a mist of condensation.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Special Agents Marcella Scott and Matt Rogers.” Captain Fernandez gestured to two gray-suited agents who were studying the white board with its branching timeline as Lei and Stevens slid into empty chairs around the conference table along with Jenkins and Flea. Fury was still on Oahu in pursuit of Hines. “I called and apprised them last night when the bones were brought in, and they wasted no time getting on the plane from the Honolulu field office.”

  “Welcome to Kaua`i. We’re glad you’re here,” Stevens said deliberately. Lei remembered he’d always advocated for getting them involved.

  The captain continued with a recap of the case so far. He filled the agents in on Lei’s discovery of Jay Bennett’s disappearance, the pattern of May and October missing persons, the connection to the transient hippie community she and Jenkins had discovered in the parks, the contributions of Jazz Haddock that had led to her undercover job at the Health Guardian.

  “I’m on a schedule for my undercover role. I don’t want to cause comment being late on my third day,” Lei said.

  “So tell me again how you think this role will lead to a connection with the killer?” asked Agent Rogers. He turned away from the board with a movement that hinted at the coiled strength of a powerful build and aimed flinty blue eyes at her.

  “I’m investigating the cult angle. We think the TruthWay cult may be involved because of its leader’s behavior when we interviewed him, and Jazz Haddock’s connected with them and he’s our best lead. We think the killer may have help in his activities.” Lei tried not to squirm and babble under the agents’ unblinking gaze.

  The female agent, a Jennifer Beals lookalike, turned on a high-wattage smile complete with dimple. “Special Agent Marcella Scott. Good to meet you.” She extended a hand to Lei.

  “Lei Texeira.” Lei shook her hand. The woman had a grip like a weightlifter, contrasting with a curvy figure that strained the top buttons of a plain white shirt. Scott seemed to be trying to downplay her dramatic looks—long glossy curls were tightly scraped back into a ponytail and there was no makeup on her flawless face.

  “Seems like you had a lot to do with breaking this case open.”

  “I guess.” Lei sneaked a glance at the clock.

  “The cult angle is pretty thin; we know that,” Stevens said. “But if the bones from the cave are some of our missing, which seems highly possible, disposing of bodies that way is a lot of work and may take more than one person. Besides, it seemed like a good idea to follow wherever Jazz Haddock is going. The man knows too much.”

  Stevens was covering for her. Lei felt a squeeze of gratitude.

  “Gotta go,” she said, standing up.

  “We’re going to give you a little more surveillance support,” Agent Scott said, with that disarming dimple. “Soon as our observation van gets here, we’ll be hooking you up with some more equipment, maybe even working another agent in.”

  “Seems like you talked the situation over before getting here,” Captain Fernandez said.

  “We did. And we got clearance, based on the discovery of the bones last night, for the full support of ViCAP and the BAU.”

  “Acronyms?” Stevens asked with a smile. He was able to put on charm too.

  “Sorry. Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. We come in to work with you, but when the arrests go down, it’s all you making the busts. The BAU is the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We have agents trained in profiling; we use these resources for hunting serials. Like I said, we have enough to work with on your case to deploy more agents and our mobile evidence investigation unit. They’re on their way.” Rogers set fists on his lean hips, pushing the gray jacket back to reveal the ornate Federal Bureau of Investigation badge clipped to his belt. Lei tried not to ogle it, but, damn, it was a pretty badge. She’d dreamed of working for the Bureau in secret fantasies.

  “Wonderful,” said Captain Fernandez, and the rest of the team nodded like marionettes.

  They were losing the case to the FBI.

  “Really, I’m late.” Lei fled.

  Another hot, sweaty day in the health food store and she’d gathered nothing useful. By the end of the day she’d begun to wonder if Jazz allowing her to work in the Guardian had little to do with the investigation and more to do with getting a free slave. For the hundredth time she wondered how the FBI was going to deal with the case, and by four p.m. she noticed a white utility van parked across the street that she’d bet was the FBI surveillance unit. They never called her to check in. That didn’t feel good, and made her scalp prickle. Maybe it was the heat and the wig—but either way, she finished the day irritable.

  After firming up Jazz’s commitment to let her come to that week’s TruthWay celebration, Lei got into the truck and rolled her neck, wondering if she should call Jenkins and deciding not to. She fired up the truck and headed in toward Lihue instead of heading for home—she’d made plans to meet her dad for dinner.

&nb
sp; She pulled into the parking lot of the restoration center and took off the wig, smoothing its strands, and then tried to fluff what was left of her hair. There was no discernible effect. She scrubbed at a spot on her tie-dyed T-shirt, ran the wand of her lip gloss over her mouth, and gave up any further efforts.

  She pushed through the front doors. Shellie Samson sat behind the reception desk and looked startled at the sight of her.

  “What happened to your hair?” she exclaimed. Lei rubbed her still-itchy scalp, gave a big smile.

  “Staying cool,” she said. “My dad around?”

  “It looks good on you. I’ll buzz his room.” She toggled the old-fashioned call board. “Wayne, your daughter, Lei, is here.”

  “Be right down.” Wayne’s tinny voice came through.

  “I’m sorry about your husband,” Lei said after a few minutes.

  “Me too.” Shellie shuffled some papers, her eyes down. “Our marriage was kinda rocky when he disappeared. I wasn’t into his whole hippie thing. So when he just never came home, I thought he’d decided to hit the road and start over. I never dreamed he’d been murdered.”

  The word seemed to stick in her throat like a chicken bone, and Shellie coughed, tears springing to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” Lei pushed the box of Kleenex on the counter over to Shellie. She wished she had her stone to rub, but there were no pockets on the hemp dress. She rubbed her hands on her thighs instead and paced back and forth in front of the stairway.

  “It’s okay. It’s actually better knowing. I just feel bad now. I was so angry at him for so long when, really, it wasn’t his fault.” The tears were flowing now, and Shellie grabbed tissues and pressed them against her eyes.

  Wayne descended the stairs, dark eyes taking in the scene.

  “Her husband,” Lei said, wiggling her fingers to remind him of the hand they’d found in the flood. His eyes widened. She turned back to Shellie, who was blowing her nose. “Well, are you okay? I was going to take my dad out for dinner.”

  “Of course,” Shellie said, visibly pulling herself together. “Wayne has been a great guest of ours and is an asset to our program.”

  “Great,” Lei said. “Well, I’ll return him before you know it.”

  “Just sign in, Wayne, when you get back.” Shellie handed over a logbook. He filled it out and followed Lei through the doors. They got in the truck.

  “How’s it going?” Lei asked.

  “Okay.” He stared at her shorn head. “What happened?”

  “I’m undercover. Wearing a wig,” Lei said. “You’ve seen my hair. It was never going to lie down and take that.”

  Her father laughed. Lei realized how seldom she’d heard it. He sobered quickly.

  “What’s this about Shellie’s husband? That was his hand we found?”

  She filled him in as she drove them to a nearby Japanese restaurant. They settled into bamboo chairs. Wayne looked around at the lighted kirin beer signs, kokeshi dolls, and dangling paper umbrellas that decorated the place. He turned to her.

  “I miss that dog of yours.”

  “Yeah, she’s been a little grumpy too. I’ve had to leave her alone a lot, been busy with the investigation.”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “What do you think about me getting a place in Hanalei? I could babysit her during the day while you work.”

  “I have to think about that. Keiki’s a guard dog. I like to have her keeping an eye on the house while I’m gone.”

  “Okay, it was just a thought.” He fiddled with his chopsticks.

  “No, it’s a good idea. At least you could visit her, take her out during the day. She’d love that.”

  “Yeah.” He finally looked up. “Ever consider a roommate?”

  Lei was the one to look away. She didn’t want to hurt him, but it seemed way too soon.

  “Well, Dad, I’d have to get a bigger place. The cottage only has one bedroom, and I like the location on the river. I’d have to think about it.”

  “I’m sorry I asked. It’s too much. I just liked taking care of Keiki, cooking for you—it made me think we could get something back of what we lost.”

  Lei didn’t answer until after they placed their orders. She’d ordered her favorite comfort food, a big bowl of noodles. She looked her dad in the eye.

  “No one wants to get that lost time back more than I do. I’d be willing to consider it if I needed to move, and we found a place that was right for us, and… I knew I could count on you.”

  “You can count on me. But of course you don’t know that.” He blew out a breath. “I did stupid things when I was young. Harmful, devastating things that I can’t take back. But in jail I gave my life to Christ, and I got a fresh start. I know I can live a new way, putting others first. I want a chance to prove that to you—but I don’t blame you for needing me to.”

  Lei picked up the little cup of tea and smiled. “Dad, this is a fine start right here.”

  The Timekeeper led the Chosen by the cable on his neck, stumbling out into the clearing outside the cave. Sunset splashed the nearby stream with golden-red beams, and the song of the water across the stones was barely interrupted by the whimper of the man as he saw the stream.

  The Timekeeper felt a stab of something almost like sorrow or compassion as the man fell on his knees by the stream, splashing water into his mouth and over his abraded wrists. He stuck his head entirely under the water, and the Timekeeper cursed, reaching in to pull him up by the hair. The Chosen spluttered as the Timekeeper flung him backward onto the bank.

  “Please,” the man said. “Just a little longer. I haven’t seen light in days.”

  “Just until the sun goes down,” the Timekeeper said.

  “You always indulge them.” His mother’s voice in his ear, a sibilant whisper. He hated that her Voice was loudest, louder than all the spirits of the aina (land) he served. He sat and endured as a different Voice challenged his mother, and they screamed back and forth in his head as he watched the sun drop behind the mountain and touch the dripping hair of the Chosen with a gold almost like kindness.

  When the shine was gone from his hair, the Timekeeper led the man back toward the cave and wasn’t surprised when he made a run for it. The collar yanked him back, and a kick to the back of the knee brought him down. But it was the Timekeeper’s fillet knife nicking off the lobe of his ear and pressed against his carotid artery with terrifying, surgical knowledge that compelled the Chosen to walk back into the cave with him, meek and bleeding.

  “My name is Jay,” the man whispered in the dark as the Timekeeper put the cable back on.

  The Timekeeper didn’t care. The Chosen had a purpose, and his name had nothing to do with it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lei’s phone buzzed as she was turning off the bridge toward the cottage, her headlights slicing through the thick warm night.

  “Texeira.”

  “Never gets old, hearing you say that.”

  “Alika. What’s up?”

  “You’re asking me that? What’s up with the bones?”

  “Can’t really talk about it.”

  She didn’t have to try to make her voice regretful; she felt terrible cutting him out of the loop after all he’d done the night before.

  “I can tell this is going to be a tough part of our relationship.”

  “So.” She put a smile into her voice. She had to work harder on getting over Stevens, and Alika was the perfect way to do that. “We’re having a relationship, are we?”

  “Of a sort. I liked where things were going until you found the finger bone.” He laughed. “You’re never boring, I’ll give you that.”

  “You’re not bad yourself. Thanks for all you did yesterday. So helpful. I’m counting the days until they pull me off the case, now that the Feds are involved.”

  “Feds?”

  “FBI.”

  She pulled onto the grass verge at her cottage, parked the truck. Keiki ran back and forth in front of
the fence, barking a happy greeting.

  “Wow. Serious.”

  “More than you know. Listen, let’s get together. Take it to the next level.” It was past time she got over Stevens once and for all. She bit her lip as she walked up onto the porch and fumbled her key into the lock.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” Lei reached down to rub the Rottweiler between the ears. “Continue what we started in the cave.”

  A short silence.

  “Way to cut to the chase,” Alika said.

  “I think of it as decisive.”

  “Well, much as some parts of my anatomy want to just drive over and get busy, I seem to remember telling you I was planning something more romantic.”

  “Okay, if you must. And apparently you must.” Lei went into the kitchen, turning on lights as she went. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Let me surprise you. Just be ready for me to pick you up Saturday morning.”

  “I like to drive. I’ll meet you there.”

  “You have to trust me. I’ll pick you up at eleven a.m. Wear something nice.”

  “Oh God. I’m so not this kind of girl. C’mon. You’ve seen my one dress. Now I’ll have to get another one.”

  “I’ll take you however I can get you.”

  “I’m in a hippie phase. I’m prone to hemp these days.”

  “It’s what’s underneath that counts. I’ll see you Saturday.” He hung up.

  Lei folded the phone shut and set it on the counter, gazing out the window thoughtfully. On impulse she turned off the light over the sink, and dark fell over the kitchen. She walked out onto the little porch at the rear of the cottage. Keiki followed and sat beside her, leaning her warm bulk against Lei’s side as she looked at the river.

  The moon was up and the water glimmered. A tiny breeze blew across, rippling the long grass in dark silken waves. Lei watched a limb traced in silver light float by. Kaua`i was like the river, calm and beautiful on the surface, but filled with its own power—and sometimes a raging destruction.