by Toby Neal
“You’re right, she wouldn’t ever lie to him.” Sophie’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I’ll have to take a chance and hope that they don’t look into Sandy Mason too closely. There’s no reason they should. I just need to see this situation through.”
“If you insist.” Alika put on his helmet, ending the discussion. Sophie put on hers, tightening the chin strap as Alika suppressed the roiling of his gut by doing the pre-flight check. His mind ticked back over the last day.
He’d returned to Fight Club after their visit with Nakai and had spent the night at Chewy’s house. Coming to Oahu had reminded him that he had a life he’d worked hard to build on this island, and friends he could count on.
Even if Sophie didn’t end up being one of them.
He might not see her again after today. Beyond the one kiss they’d shared, she’d given him no reason to hope there was going to be anything more.
“Are you going to want to stay in Kalalau after we deal with the Shepherd?” Alika asked, his finger poised above the Start button on the control panel.
Sophie frowned, a slight scrunch of her smooth forehead. “I don’t know. I’m keeping all my options open.”
“How nice for you. Some of us have actual jobs. Commitments.” Alika was unable to suppress a flash of temper. “I’ve taken off a lot of time to help you out, and flying this bird isn’t cheap, either.”
Sophie turned to him, eyes wide. “I can pay you.”
“I don’t want your money.” He gazed at her a long moment, trying to read her smooth, neutral face. Trying not to be insulted—he’d opened that door himself. He hid the bruised feeling in his chest with a brusque nod. “But perhaps that would be best. I’ll give you a total for the chopper’s gas, at least.”
He pushed the Start button. The blades overhead began to whirl and vibration shook the frame as the Dragonfly came to life.
Sophie put her hand on his arm. Her voice, tinny through the comm unit built into the helmet, filled his ear. “Thank you.”
He didn’t want her thanks. He didn’t want her money, either. He wanted her.
Alika shook her hand off his arm and grasped the collective.
The sound and vibration killed any further angst, and Alika relished the power beneath his hands as he lifted the Dragonfly into the still, cool morning air over Honolulu. They rose, and swept off the top of the building. He heard Sophie’s breathless gasp as Honolulu, backlit by morning just beginning to rise over the mountains, swooped out below, and the ocean, glittering like blue foil, spread before them.
Alika loved flying in the early morning before the wind came up to mar the surface of the water and make the ride rough. He set his heading and flew the chopper at max rpms toward Kaua’i.
Once underway, he sneaked a glance at Sophie.
She had pressed her face to the window and was scanning the cobalt water below as they arrowed swiftly over it, flying low.
“Look!” Her big dark eyes were bright with excitement through the helmet as she pointed to a whale cow and calf, rising to the surface beneath them.
Alika smiled and gave a thumbs-up. Whales never got old. He pointed to a pod of dolphins as they approached Kaua’i, and the great batlike shape of a manta ray moving along just under the surface of the water.
They eventually set down at the Kaua’i Police Department’s helipad just behind the new, urban-ugly KPD building outside Kapa’a. Lei Texeira’s ex-partner, Jack Jenkins, was meeting them with another detective.
Alika took off his helmet and turned to Sophie as she shook out her short hair and set her helmet aside, unclipping the harness. “Last chance to bail. You sure you want to go through with this? We are both just civilians in the situation.”
Sophie regarded him steadily. “That’s right. That’s all we both are. But we are talented, useful civilians.” She winked, and that startled a laugh out of him.
“All right, have it your way.”
They got out of the chopper and walked over to meet Jack Jenkins, who’d exited the building with a partner. Lei had called the five-ten, stocky, muscular young man with his gelled blond hair “J-Boy.”
“Good to see you again, Alika,” Jenkins’s handshake was firm. “And this must be Sandy, the hiker who uncovered all of this.” The detective’s gaze on Sophie was assessing.
“Hello.” Sophie extended her hand. “I set out to have an adventure on Kaua’i, and it’s really been one.”
“My partner, Paul Nae’ole.” Jenkins introduced a thickset Hawaiian man who had joined them.
Alika recognized the man from paddling. “You with Nawiliwili Canoe Club?” They exchanged pleasantries, and Jenkins jerked his head toward the aircraft.
“So, we just need you to take us to the area where the Shepherd and those boys are camping. We’ll take the investigation from there.”
“When we visited him in the hospital, the boy we rescued, Nakai, reiterated his accusations about the Shepherd. And he’s anxious about his mother, and being made to share a foster home with the other boys. He’s worried they will hate him for disclosing the abuse,” Sophie said.
“All in good time.” Jenkins’s cop face was unreadable. “Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.”
Sophie tightened her lips but said nothing. Alika cleared his throat. “Let me speak to your pilot and share my flight plan.”
It wasn’t long before they were in the air again after the Dragonfly’s tank was topped off. Sweeping around the magnificent crags and corrugated depths of Kauai’s Na Pali cliffs was challenging, and even with all that was going on, Alika enjoyed the skill of keeping the craft steady and straight as he led the police chopper along the route they’d established, and then set the bird down in the now-familiar meadow near the trail.
“We need you to show us where the cave is, but we will make the approach,” Jenkins told Sophie, when they were all out of the craft and on the ground. “Stay back until we signal you.”
Sophie’s lips tightened again, but she nodded. Alika glanced at the Kevlar vests the two cops wore, their sidearms at the ready. Once again, they left Ginger, this time tied to the strut of the Dragonfly. She whined fretfully but didn’t offer any further resistance as the group set off up the trail.
“We plan to assess the situation when we go in,” Jenkins said. “We have a foster situation set up, but these things always go better if we build trust first.”
“I don’t see that happening,” Sophie said. “The boys were after Nakai and were a part of causing the lava tube to collapse, trapping us in there. They attacked Alika.”
“What?” The two cops came to a halt and looked back at him.
Alika sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to get them in trouble if it wasn’t necessary. They’re just brainwashed, confused kids.”
“Brainwashed, confused kids prepared to commit murder to cover up an accusation against their leader,” Sophie said, her tone hard. “These investigators need all the facts going in.”
“We definitely needed to know this. We should expect resistance. Wish you’d told us this back at KPD headquarters,” Nae’ole said.
Alika tried not to tense up as the cops grilled him about the attack and how it had resolved.
“We would have brought additional backup. What weapons do these boys have?” Jenkins asked. Sophie described them in detail. Jenkins frowned. “What did you say your background was?” Clearly her knowledgeability was drawing their attention.
“Former FBI agent. I used to work in private security.”
They seemed to accept this, though Jenkins wore a puzzled frown.
“Well, we’ll go in, get a temperature check and see what we see,” Nae’ole said. “You two stay well back until we signal you.”
Sophie led them to a hidden trail off the main track toward the back of the valley. They eventually ended up at a waterfall gushing in a generous spray that hid the cave entrance.
“It’s through there.” Sophie pointed to a dark slit of opening
masked by the path of the water.
Alika had brought up the rear of their small cavalcade, and he and Sophie slipped behind the sheltering bole of a kukui nut tree as the two detectives proceeded with caution, keeping behind cover as they approached the dark slit near the cascade.
“I don’t like this,” Sophie whispered. Before Alika could stop her, she darted after the men and ducked into the shadow cast by the waterfall.
Chapter Forty-Six
Sophie held onto the rocky edge of the cave’s opening, slick beneath her fingers, cold and damp with overspray. The roar of the cataract drowned out any sounds from inside the cavern as she inched forward, wishing for the familiar weight of her Glock.
She glanced back.
Alika gestured frantically for her to return. She shook her head, a short movement, and slipped around the curve of stone into the darkness beyond.
Murky dim dropped over her, enfolding her in the familiar cloak of darkness. Letting her eyes adjust, Sophie settled into stillness behind a sheltering rock protrusion. She could hope that the uneven, flickering light of the small fire in the center of the room barely glazed her golden-brown skin.
The silhouettes of Nae’ole and Jenkins briefly blocked the fire’s glow, and she couldn’t make out the shape of their drawn weapons but knew they’d have them out. She scanned the large expanse of the cavern, but saw no one else. The only other light was the steady bluish glow of the LED lantern she had seen in the Shepherd’s tent, and the men were headed for it.
Sophie trotted on light feet in their wake, hoping to remain undetected so that they didn’t send her back out, or worse, shoot her.
The detectives took up a cover position behind a large metal barrel near the tent. “Come out! Kaua’i Police Department!” Jenkins’s voice echoed in the enclosed space.
No reply.
Sophie’s hands curled into fists and her nails dug into her palms. She uncurled them, longing for her weapon, but she’d decided when she first set out not to complicate her travels with a gun.
“Cover me,” Jenkins said to his partner, and trotted forward to the little tent. Sophie heard the sound of the zipper and a quick intake of breath. “We have a body.”
“Jenkins. Nae’ole.” It was time to identify herself. Sophie stepped forward, her open hands up, advancing slowly so that the men could recognize her. “It’s me, Sandy. Maybe I can help. I have met the Shepherd, and the boys.”
“What the hell? Get back outside.” Nae’ole grabbed Sophie’s arm in a biting grip. “You’re lucky we didn’t shoot you!”
This was what she got for being nothing but a civilian, not even a hired contractor with a security job. “I can save time. Maybe identify the body for you.”
Jenkins addressed Nae’ole from the door of the tent. “Let her get a look. She’s right; it could speed things up.”
Nae’ole glared and kept his weapon on her, but allowed Sophie to approach the tent’s opening. They both peered in over Jenkins’s kneeling form.
A man lay face down. He was dressed in the clothing Sophie remembered: a pair of dingy sweat pants and a kihei robe of tapa cloth, tied at one shoulder. What had once been a full head of flowing, silver hair was now a pulpy red mess.
“I can’t be sure without seeing his face, but the height, build, and clothing are consistent with the man referred to as the Shepherd. I did an online search the other night and found a name to match his description: Barton Kuiaha. He’s a former youth correctional officer who was fired for child molesting back in 1998.”
Jenkins looked up at her, his square, good-natured face alert, his eyes narrowed. “You talk like a cop.”
“I told you I was former FBI.” Sophie kept her neutral expression in place that hid her feelings, thoughts, or needs. “And very recently, in private security.” She was going to be brought in for questioning more closely, no doubt about it. Unless she could get away, her Sandy Mason identity was going to be blown.
“I can’t get a signal to call for backup and the CSI team,” Nae’ole said, his voice tight with tension as he worked his phone one-handed. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t think there’s any signal outside either. We’ll have to call from the chopper’s radio.” Jenkins stood up. “Nae’ole, stay here and secure the scene. Cover this woman while I check the cave for any other witnesses.”
Sophie had become “this woman.”
Nae’ole gave a hard nod. He held his weapon leveled at Sophie’s midsection as Jenkins moved off into the dark, flicking on a small, high-powered flashlight and calling out an identification to anyone who might still be hiding in the shadows. “Kauai Police Department! Come out, we need to speak with you!”
He wouldn’t find anyone—the boys would have fled. Sophie felt sure of it.
Sophie dropped to her haunches, examining the body from her vantage point in the tent’s doorway. The blood pool was still bright and glossy; the coppery smell almost burned her nostrils. “He hasn’t been dead long. There’s the murder weapon.” She pointed to a round rock about the size of a grapefruit, hidden from immediate view by the mattress. One side of it was dark with blood and matted silver hairs.
“You have no business here.” Nae’ole grabbed Sophie’s arm and pulled her out of the doorway. “Get over against the wall.”
She rose to her feet as gracefully as she could. “I was just trying to help. I’m the one who found these boys, remember.”
“Get over by the wall.” Nae’ole just waved her away.
Sophie walked to the far wall, closest to the cave’s exit. She turned back and watched the tableau of Nae’ole going into the tent to make a visual exam of the body while Jenkins continued his circuit around the huge cave.
This was her chance.
If she was brought in by KPD, her cover would be blown and District Attorney Chang might have the fuel he needed to lock her up for Assan’s killing.
Sophie sidled toward the cave’s entrance. Neither man so much as looked her way. She was out and into the blinding sun in seconds.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Marcella looked around the all-purpose conference room table in the FBI’s team planning room. A bank of bulletproof windows faced the ocean. An embossed United States seal decorated with gold leaf marked the far wall and flags occupied one corner, while whiteboards covered the rest of the space. Special Agent in Charge Ben Waxman, tech agent Joe Bateman, Lei’s ex-partner Ken Yamada, and her own partner Matt Rogers looked back at Marcella.
Marcella tapped the file she’d set on the table in front of her. “I’m coming up dry on the trail of the Ghost cyber vigilante. I can’t get any actionable intel on him. I have been trying to find proof of a shared identity between Todd Remarkian, recent bombing victim, and Sheldon Hamilton, CEO of Security Solutions. I thought I had found it when I uncovered the duplicate apartment in the Pendragon Arches building. But the CSI team found no DNA in either apartment matching Hamilton, or the body, identified as Todd Remarkian by dental records, that was found on the premises after the bombing. Sophie told me they were one and the same. Unfortunately, I can’t prove that, let alone that Sheldon Hamilton is the Ghost.”
“You sent me all this in your report the other day. Does anyone else have any leads?” Waxman’s steel-blue gaze swept the room as he made notes on a slim laptop. A stack of files beside him gave a hint of things to come.
“I’ve been tracking Sheldon Hamilton’s whereabouts,” Yamada said, smoothing the lapels of his immaculate gray suit jacket, his handsome face serious. “As you all know, Sophie implicated Hamilton as the current identity behind the Ghost. Hamilton was staying at a suite at the Four Seasons and has since checked out. A Security Solutions SUV took him to the airport, where he took a private contracted jet to an undisclosed location. Without a warrant for the information, I couldn’t get a flight plan—but if I were hazarding a guess, I’d say Hamilton went to Hong Kong. The company has an increasing footprint there.”
“Security Solut
ions has been putting up every kind of firewall and security block they can to keep us out of their computers and personnel and other files,” Bateman chimed in. Over the course of the investigation thus far, Marcella had come to respect the doughy young tech agent’s way around a computer. He didn’t have Sophie’s genius; but then no one did. Except, perhaps, the Ghost….
Waxman steepled his fingers. “All right. Enough. This is now one of those back-burner investigations. Someday, sometime, the Ghost will slip up and tip his hand. And when he does, we will be waiting to scoop him up. But for now, we have a slew of new, real cases to dig our teeth into.” Waxman reached over to the pile of folders. “These have come in in the last twenty-four hours. Keep your eyes, ears, and Internet browsers open for information about the Ghost; but for now, we have some alleged child pornographers, bomb makers, money launderers, and possible terrorists to bust.”
Marcella and Matt Rogers received their stack of new cases, and after status updates, headed back to their office.
Matt bumped her with his sturdy shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet today, partner.” Rogers was ex-military, with the buzz-cut hair and precision work ethic to match. A deeply committed family man, Rogers always reminded Marcella that the job was just a job. She bumped him back.
“Thinking about Sophie. Missing her in our meetings, and after work, too.” She’d had to loop Rogers in on what had happened between Sophie and the Ghost. She still wanted to nail that jerk for breaking her friend’s heart, if nothing else. Sophie’s latest romantic crash-and-burn hopefully wouldn’t sour her love life forever. Sophie had choices with men, any of whom would have been better for her than the Ghost had been. Marcella’s bet was on Jake in the long run. That guy was nothing if not persistent—and attractive.
“Sophie’s tough as an old boot and twice as good at stompin’,” Rogers said. He enjoyed letting his Texas twang out on occasion. “She’ll land on her feet.”