by Toby Neal
Sophie clapped her hands and scolded the dog, still damp from a bath Frank had given her upon their arrival. “Look at this. You’ve ruined my comforter.”
Frank frowned from the doorway. “Bad dog!”
Ginger slunk off the bed and out of the room. Frank pointed to the dog bed he kept ready for the Lab by the couch. Ginger got in, circled and lay down. Frank petted her head.
“I have to make some phone calls, okay, Dad?” He nodded, used to her working from home, and Sophie closed the door of her bedroom. She sat down at the rig she’d left behind, booting it up as she called Jake. She left a message at his brusque voicemail recording. He wouldn’t know this number, and, like her, he didn’t answer unknown numbers. The phone rang minutes later as she removed the hard drive containing the Ghost software and plugged it into her desktop computer.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jake Dunn was what Americans called a “force of nature.” Sophie heard him breathing through his nose as if he were trying to calm himself. She could picture him so clearly: those gunmetal eyes under dark brows intent and his big, restless, muscled body, always ready to erupt into action, probably pacing around in agitation.
“Hello, Jake. I knew you would be worried, and so I called as soon as I could. I hope you are well.” She didn’t owe Jake anything; he had no claim on her other than friendship and their work partnership, but he had always acted both attached and overprotective. That was his problem, not hers. “I went hiking on Kaua’i. I encountered a situation. It got complicated.”
“You always encounter a situation.” Her partner blew out a breath. “Shank Miller has been concerned. You’re his favorite security agent.”
“And Shank is my favorite rock star.” Miller had a beach house on Maui, and had recently had complications with a persistent stalker. That case had drawn Jake and Sophie to Maui for some months. “How are things over there?”
“I’m almost done hiring the last of Miller’s permanent security team, and I’m back on Oahu in a few days. When can we get together?”
Sophie looked down at the silky carpet between her bare toes. She rubbed a foot, still a little tender from all that time in her hiking boots, across the expensive nap. “I’m here on Oahu and staying with my father. Tomorrow I’ll give my deposition regarding Assan Ang’s death. And then I’m going right back to Kalalau.”
“What about your job with Security Solutions?”
“I tendered my resignation directly to Sheldon Hamilton.” She had, in a manner of speaking. But she still needed to call Kendall Bix, her immediate supervisor, and formalize things.
“So, what are you doing for work?”
“I’m not sure. I have a little savings; I’m just going to do some exploring. Off the grid.”
“You know, I’ve always wanted to do something like that myself and never made the time. Let me know if you need anything, or ever want a hiking buddy.” The strained quality of Jake’s voice told her how concerned he was. He cleared his throat. “But after all you’ve been through, a break is in order. Just don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“I will never be a stranger to you, Jake. I owe you my life.” Sophie had needed to say that for a while. “How about you meet Alika, my father and me for a beer after I finish with my deposition? Perhaps Marcella will come too.”
“Alika? Who is he?”
“Alika Wolcott is a Kaua’i real estate developer and my former MMA coach. I was dating him before Connor.” No sense hiding anything.
Silence met this. Then, “I’ll be there. This guy I’ve got to meet.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The next morning, Alika followed his friend and gym manager, Chewy, into the large, dim, barnlike space of Fight Club in downtown Honolulu. He had supported the club when it opened ten years ago, then had eventually bought out the majority partner. Just one of his businesses, the gym had been doing well and turning a profit even in the year he had been absent from it.
Chewy smacked him on the shoulder companionably as Alika surveyed the gym, segmented into different areas by racks of sports and weight equipment. “Fight Club’s doing all right without you, but we’re all glad you’re back.”
Alika started as the overhead floodlights burst on suddenly.
The Rocky soundtrack blared out of the gym’s large speakers.
“Welcome back, Coach!” A group of Alika’s former coaching students and regulars jumped out from behind the raised boxing ring that was the gym’s focal point, shouting and firing off party poppers. Confetti showered down from the second-story walkway above, dumped directly on Alika by a mischievously grinning assistant manager.
Alika fought stinging eyes as he was swarmed, hugged, clapped on the back, and lifted up to be jogged around the ring on the shoulders of six sturdy friends.
Chewy oversaw the dispensing of cups of Gatorade from an oversized orange thermos. He led the group in a toast: “To Coach Alika. May he continue to rise to every challenge, come back from every beatdown, and kick ass every day, setting an example for the rest of us like he always has.”
Alika gulped at his Gatorade, his throat too tight to swallow, and was obliterated by another round of hugs. A chant of “Speech! Speech! Speech!” started, and he finally slipped between the ropes of the ring and set aside his plastic cup.
“I stand here, damn glad to be alive after last year’s attack—and to be able to do this.” Alika ripped off his shirt, and ran through a memorized fight sequence, a series of moves borrowed from jiu-jitsu, Muay Thai, and Tae Kwon Do. Through the rapid moves, rolls, kicks, and punches, his leg still ached and a zap of the familiar lightning-like nerve pain shot from his ribs down his arm—but he was back, and someday he’d be better than ever.
The applause of friends lifted his spirits as he ended the bout with his arms raised in victory, wishing Sophie was there to see him.
Hours later, Alika sat in his office chair, his legs stretched out and crossed on the corner of the desk. Chewy sat kitty-corner to him, mirroring his pose. They each held a stack of profit and loss reports.
“You’ve been running this place better than I did,” Alika said. “I’ve been keeping up long-distance, but this is impressive. Who knew that yoga and Zumba would do so well here?”
Chewy, nicknamed Chewbacca for his luxuriant growth of hair and beard, stroked the pelt on his chin. “There were empty hours in the gym when none of our regulars were working out. I surveyed the community and discovered there weren’t any of those classes nearby. We weren’t tapping into the resources of the stay-at-home mom demographic. That’s no longer the case.”
“Very nice. And your addition of pole dance aerobics and expansion of the ladies’ boxing coach program seems to be going well.”
Chewy’s eyes twinkled in the bushy growth of his brows. “Once I realized those pole dancing props could be put up and taken down, I saw a match made in heaven between that class setting up in the boxing ring, and our evening gym rats. You should see all the guys lined up on the stationary bikes and treadmills, watching while those ladies shake it. It’s a hoot.”
“I guess everyone’s getting what they came for, then.” Alika put down his report, leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “I think you deserve a cut of our growth. What would you say to a little profit-sharing?”
“Most definitely. Thanks for thinking of it.”
“But that welcome home party was a little over-the-top. Just FYI.”
“Not at all. The minute I sent out a group text that you were going to be in town for the first time in a year, your students did all the rest. You’re missed, Coach.”
“Well, I appreciate it, then. I guess. It’s been a rough year on Kaua’i, working with a physical therapist and rehab coach just to get back to where I was.” Alika gestured to his legs, propped on the desk. “I won’t be fighting again any time soon, but I’m glad to be able to do paddling and surfing like I used to.”
“You’re doing a lot more than that. You had a great se
t of moves to show us.”
Alika dropped his feet and stood. “I’ll be back a lot sooner than a year next time. There’s someone here I want to keep in touch with.”
“Sophie?” Chewy grinned. “Don’t blame you a bit. Tell her we miss her, too.”
Alika pretended to be looking for a pen in his desk. “We’ll see what happens. She’s been through a lot, and I’m not the only guy who’s into her.”
“My money’s on you, Alika.” Chewy stood. “Well, I’ll be picking up sweaty towels in the shower area.” He left.
Alika watched him go. If only he was as confident as his friend that Sophie wanted anything to do with him—though that kiss had been promising.
But was he any more ready for a relationship than she was?
He slammed the desk drawer. Hell yes. He’d made that decision when he took the Dragonfly to go look for her.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Marcella had been lucky enough to find a parallel parking spot in front of Sophie’s dad’s building. The wide, pretty avenue with its spreading monkeypod trees was quiet in the early morning. She’d texted Sophie on her arrival, and her friend exited the building’s glass doors. Wearing a plain white button-down shirt and easy-movement black slacks, Sophie was dressed as she’d been every day for the five years they’d worked together at the FBI, and the sight gave Marcella a pang.
She got out of her Honda Accord and came around to embrace her friend on the sidewalk.
Sophie smelled of sandalwood soap. Her grip was almost bruising on Marcella as the women hugged. “I’m so sorry I just went off without telling you where,” Sophie whispered. “It was wrong of me. I was…grieving.”
“I know you were.” Marcella was glad she’d taken the time to sort through her emotions and let go of her hurt and anger. She held Sophie at arm’s length. “You cut your hair off again.”
Sophie tugged at her short, dense, dark brown curls self-consciously. “I needed to wear a wig. And—this is easy. Not much to it.”
“That’s always been a good look for you, scar or no scar.” Marcella’s Italian mama instincts kicked in as she took in her friend’s hollow cheeks. “Really, not much to you anywhere, now. I need to feed you up, girl. You’re getting downright skinny. Let’s stop by a coffee shop on the way to the law office; I bet you didn’t eat breakfast.” They got into the Accord and Marcella headed for the nearest Starbucks drive-through. “I’m going to get some carbs, sugar, and caffeine into you. Now tell me everything.”
Sophie did, beginning with her decision to go to Kalalau, spurred by a postcard she’d found in the Ghost’s office. “It seemed like it was some kind of message. I’d been enjoying myself for the most part, figuring out my camping gear each night, Ginger and I just taking our time and enjoying that incredible place, when this woman literally stumbled into our camp, hysterical over her missing son.”
Marcella ordered a large black coffee for herself and tea and a breakfast croissant for Sophie at the drive-through, and listened as her friend unburdened herself about the situation she’d found in that remote valley on Kaua’i. “As soon as I’m done with the deposition, I’m supposed to meet Dad and Alika and Jake for a drink at the Honua Pub. But all I want to do is go see Nakai in the hospital. He must be so afraid with not one familiar face around him.”
Marcella glanced at Sophie, concerned by the vibration of emotion in her friend’s voice. “Sounds like it really affected you.”
Sophie blew out a breath. “I never told you that I was kidnapped when I was seven years old.”
Marcella almost put on the brakes. She glanced at the dashboard clock—there was no time to stop and hear the story. “No, you did not. I would have remembered.”
“I was taken from my family home in Thailand. The kidnappers snuck in at night, and removed me from my bed.” Sophie’s voice was flat, as if reciting something memorized. “They kept me in a closet. I was not abused. Each day they took a photo of me holding the daily paper. That was my only human contact. When the payoff came through, the kidnappers left me on the sidewalk in front of a hospital. I hadn’t been eating, and I was dehydrated. The hospital took me in, and finally my father and my nanny showed up. The kidnappers had said I would be left in a public place, but not where—so it took a while for anyone to believe my story and contact my family.”
Marcella patted Sophie’s rigid arm. “Wow, hon. Well, Nakai isn’t you. He’s older, for one thing, and he’s already been through a lot in his short life. He might just be enjoying lying in a clean bed, eating his head off, and watching TV for the first time in months.”
Sophie smiled, and her large, dark eyes crinkled a little at the humor. Even with the scar marring her face and no makeup or other adornment, she was beautiful. “I hope you’re right. I can see the boy slurping down Jell-O and enjoying cartoons, now that you put it like that.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Of course. You’re always right.”
“At last she admits the obvious.” Marcella glanced at Sophie, and they both grinned.
Marcella pulled in to the large Honolulu State building beside the courthouse and parked in the lot beneath. She picked up her briefcase as they exited the Accord. “I called Security Solutions’ contracted legal counsel for you. I figured since you hadn’t officially resigned from the security firm, we might as well utilize their staff.”
Sophie smiled gratefully. “Thanks. Though I am not sure that this whole matter comes under the umbrella of my work with them, I’m grateful to have someone to represent me.”
“Chang, the DA, is a bit of a pompous ass. I recommend flattering him and letting him think he’s in charge, but don’t give him any more information than you have to. For instance, I would leave out the part about surveilling Assan in his building. Just tell the part about following a clue that led you there.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Sophie said crisply. “I have no intention of going to jail for Assan, no matter what the DA tries to charge me with. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to advertise it. I know when to keep my mouth shut and play the submissive.” Marcella couldn’t miss the bitterness in Sophie’s tone, and she patted Sophie’s arm, unsure how to respond.
“It’s going to be fine,” she finally said, and mentally crossed her fingers.
The conference room set up for Sophie’s deposition was strictly utilitarian. Marcella accompanied Sophie inside, and introduced her friend to Bennie Fernandez, Security Solutions’ legal counsel.
Fernandez was a short, round, cherubic man who resembled Santa Claus in an aloha shirt. His face broke into a smile with a lot of teeth as he greeted Marcella. “Fighting on the same side this time, my dear.”
“For once, Fernandez.” Marcella could not bring herself to smile back at the deceptively cute pit viper of a defense counselor. Fernandez had dragged many an agent and HPD officer through the metaphorical mud in court in the past, and Marcella was never one to forget a slight or injury. “My friend Sophie needs your ‘A’ game, and you and I both know how good that is.”
“I’ve been looking for a chance to sharpen my teeth on Chang. You can count on me.” Fernandez turned to Sophie, giving her his full, intense attention. “Come with me, my dear, and tell me everything that happened, so I can make sure you don’t tell that grandstanding poser anything more than strictly necessary.”
They left, and Marcella sat in the empty conference room. She took out her phone and thumbed through her contacts.
She knew a detective their mutual friend Lei Texeira had worked with on Kaua’i. Jack Jenkins was still assigned to the north side of the island; maybe he could get out there and investigate the sticky situation in Kalalau that involved not just Nakai, but a whole group of runaway teens. They needed a group foster home for all the boys to go to, and a sensitive investigation into what was really going on in that cave in one of the most remote valleys in all of Hawaii.
Chapter Forty
Sophie felt physically and emotionally
better after talking with Fernandez and Marcella, her spirit lightened by unburdening herself, while at the same time anchored by the food her friend had wisely made her eat. She was also bolstered by the hugs her father had given her that morning as she said goodbye to him in the penthouse.
She could do this.
Sophie had nothing to be ashamed of. She would hold her head up, look the DA in the eye, and say as little as possible.
District Attorney Alan Chang was shorter than she expected, with a similar build to the rotund Bennie Fernandez. Watching the two face off was like watching a pair of small plump roosters kick up dust, preparing to fight in the servants’ courtyard of her family compound in Thailand.
“I believe you have been apprised of your rights regarding this proceeding and advised that anything you say here can be used against you in any future legal proceeding,” Chang said after the formalities had been observed.
Sophie inclined her head and he prompted her to verbalize her responses, reminding her of the transcription recording occurring.
“Let’s begin by discussing your relationship with your ex-husband.”
“Why don’t we stay focused on the events of the date in question, or we will be here all day,” Fernandez rebutted. “Keep your questions specific to information you need to verify.”
“I am trying to determine whether or not a murder was committed,” Chang said. “That means I have to determine intent. And I would like to know Ms. Ang’s intent toward her ex-husband, Assan Ang.”
“I can answer that. My intent was to get away from him, preserve myself from bodily harm, and carry on a peaceful life without his hostile presence and murderous attacks,” Sophie said. All of Chang’s features were concentrated in the middle of his face like a round, shiny emoticon caricature. “I’m sure you have read transcripts from the police report I made of the initial attack by hired professionals trying to kidnap me from Shank Miller’s estate on Maui.”