Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  A rustling in nearby bushes drew her attention and Sophie’s body coiled into alertness. Ginger pricked her ears. The possibilities big enough to make that degree of sound were few in Hawaii: the disturbance was likely either goat, pig, or human, and the first two stayed well away from trafficked areas, even in Kalalau.

  A woman emerged from the dense foliage. Her hair was snarled into ropes, her body lank with weight loss, her clothes filthy and mud-spattered. Wild eyes fell on Sophie, and her lips drew back in a snarl.

  Sophie’s hands dropped to the belt at her waist and she popped the clasp, releasing the pack. Her hands flew to her chest, and she unclipped the chest strap. She was out of the confines of the backpack in seconds, letting it fall backward onto the boulder. “Enola! We found your son. He’s alive!”

  Enola’s eyes were red-rimmed and staring. Her whole body was shaking. Enola was clearly in the ravages of shock and withdrawal. “Nakai’s alive?” Her voice was a rusty hinge.

  “Yes. He’s in the children’s hospital on Oahu.” Sophie stood slowly so as not to spook the woman. “He fell into a lava tube and was trapped underground. He was injured, but he’s recovering.” She took a step closer to Enola. “Everyone is looking for you.”

  “I bet they are. And they’re going to be looking harder, now.” The woman held up hands crusty with dried blood in the creases. The spatter on her dress wasn’t mud. “I haven’t been much of a mother to him, but I did what I could and ended that monster when I found out what he did to those boys.”

  “Oh, Enola. How did you find out?”

  “I went back. I caught him in his tent with one of them.” She put her hands over her eyes. “The boy ran off and I went and got a rock. Did what needed to be done.”

  Sophie’s mind buzzed. She could further the investigation by bringing in the perpetrator, and making sure Enola got the kind of legal and mental health support she obviously needed. “I can help you.”

  “Nakai’s going to be okay?” Enola’s gaze darted toward the cliff.

  “Yes. He’s worried about you.” Sophie’s brows drew together. The woman was sidling toward the precipitous overhang. “Your son’s asking for you. He needs his mother.”

  Enola gave a bitter laugh. “It’s not his job to worry about me. And now, on top of everything, he’s going to have a murderer for a mother. No. I won’t do that to him.” She lunged for the edge with a sudden darting movement.

  “No!” Sophie leaped after the woman and grabbed for her trailing rags as Enola dove headfirst off the cliff. She barely touched the cloth of Enola’s shirt and didn’t even have time to close her fingers on it.

  Enola plummeted out into space, arms pinwheeling, her despairing wail a ribbon of sound that would haunt Sophie’s dreams.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Sophie twisted her fingers together as she sat handcuffed to the table in the Kaua’i Police Department’s interview room. A hiker she’d sent back to find the detectives had brought them to the site where Enola had gone over the cliff. Sophie had waited, guarding the spot until their arrival.

  She’d been arrested for obstruction of justice as soon as the detectives had arrived, and had spent an uncomfortable night in the island’s general population jail cell, refusing to cooperate with questioning until her lawyer arrived from Oahu. That had delayed the interviews Nae’ole and Jenkins had tried to carry out.

  The Interview Room door opened abruptly. Seeing Bennie Fernandez’s cherubic white-bearded face and familiar aloha shirt made Sophie stand up, forgetting her restraints. The hard metal bracelets dug painfully into her wrists. “Mr. Fernandez! Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course. You’re already one of my favorite clients. This is a travesty!” Fernandez exclaimed, indicating her prison orange. “Are you all right, my dear?” He patted her arm comfortingly. Sophie blinked back quick tears in response to his kindness. The depression had taken her over thoroughly, causing the last day to pass by in a blur as she lay on her back staring at the ceiling, ignoring the ebb and flow of the inmates around her.

  “I am all right. I hope you brought what I asked for.”

  “Yes. We have a short, private consultation time before the interviews. I suggest we make the most of it. I was able to retrieve your identification from the cache where you directed me. Here it is.” Fernandez opened his briefcase and slid her Sophie Ang Hawaii driver’s license over to her, along with her Thailand and US passports. “I’m sure you know they are going to want answers about why you were traveling as Sandy Mason. Why was that, exactly?”

  “I wanted to get away. I needed to. Somewhere beautiful, and different.” Sophie touched the leatherette passport covers. The Hawaii ID, with its bright rainbow arched over her picture, looked painfully bright. Why had she run away as Sandy Mason? Her brain felt sluggish. The depression. Her medication had been confiscated along with everything else, and Ginger was currently residing in the local Humane Society. She had to get out and rescue her dog…

  “That isn’t going to be enough. We have to tell the detectives about the recent events involving your ex-husband. And fortunately, I have good news on that front. District Attorney Chang has completed his investigation and has decided not to proceed with any further charges against you. Assan Ang’s death has been ruled self-defense.”

  Relief at that news made Sophie dizzy. She dropped back into her chair. “Why?”

  “He faxed a statement to the effect that he’d thoroughly checked into the situation and decided that it wasn’t worth the state’s time to pursue a prosecution. In light of that, the HPD issued a conclusion. You’re in the clear.”

  The door opened to admit the two detectives with their recording equipment. Jenkins was frowning. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were a friend of Lei’s? She called me last night and reamed me out for arresting you. You could have saved us a shitload of hassle by being up front.”

  Sophie dropped her eyes, spreading her fingers over the identification on the table, grounding herself with the smooth feel of the leatherette passport covers. She had no easy answer for her deception, and having been on the other side of the table, knew how it appeared.

  “Let’s just begin the interview properly, shall we?” Fernandez said. The detectives set up the video and audio recording equipment and Mirandized Sophie.

  Jenkins seated himself. His usual energy was missing, and he rubbed a jaw bristling with blond whiskers. Nae’ole, always taciturn, glared at Sophie from beneath black brows. Jenkins opened a file. “Let’s begin with your identity. State your legal name for the record, please.”

  “Sophie Malee Smithson Ang.” Sophie pushed the pile of IDs over with the limited range allowed by the handcuffs. “I apologize for any inconvenience or misunderstanding caused by my use of an alias.”

  Nae’ole opened the documents and studied them as Jenkins eyed Sophie over the file. “Why don’t you tell us what your purpose was in traveling under a false identity.”

  Sophie glanced at Fernandez. The little lawyer nodded. Sophie picked her words carefully. “I had recently been through a traumatic event and wanted to…explore the Kalalau Valley. I had an alias available through my investigation work, and I used it to travel to Kaua’i, where I became embroiled in the search for a missing boy. Things with that proceeded exactly as I first told you.”

  “We will get back to that and its outcome. This traumatic event. Tell us about it,” Nae’ole said. The detectives’ expressionless faces told Sophie they knew perfectly well what the event was.

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” Fernandez said. “Ms. Ang killed her ex-husband in self-defense. She has been cleared of all charges in the matter.” Fernandez produced a copy of the fax from the DA’s office and pushed it over. The detectives examined it. “Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest choice for her to leave Oahu under an alias while being investigated, but I’m sure you can empathize with the reasons. And rather than let her situation keep her from assisting in finding the missing boy, she had gone on
to help in every way she could, even up to finding the boy and being trapped underground with him.”

  The detectives were still stony-faced, avoiding eye contact and studying the paperwork. Finally, Jenkins said, “Tell us, on the record, about your encounter with Enola Matsui.”

  Until this moment, Sophie hadn’t heard the woman’s last name. A vivid memory filled her mind: Enola’s last scream, her clothing slipping through Sophie’s fingers—and the sight of her body lying on the black lava rocks hundreds of feet below the trail, waves dousing it with spray.

  Sophie cleared her throat. “I think it was pure chance that I saw Enola at all. She came to that high point in the trail to kill herself, and nothing I said slowed her down.” She described the series of events and Enola’s confession to the murder of the Shepherd. “As soon as another hiker came along, I told him to go find help and bring you back. I stayed at the site to make sure no one disturbed it or took inappropriate action.”

  “We only have your word for how things went down,” Nae’ole said. “Maybe you pushed the victim.”

  “Why would I have then flagged down a hiker and sent for help, staying with the body for hours until you two arrived?”

  “Because you knew you wouldn’t get far once that body was discovered. Your cover identity would be blown in an even worse way than it is now,” Nae’ole growled.

  Sophie shrugged. “Yes. I knew I couldn’t go on with the fake identity. I should have told you who I was as soon as we found the Shepherd’s body and the stakes were higher. But…”

  “You didn’t want to go to jail for your ex’s murder, no matter what the DA said,” Jenkins filled in. “Lei told me a little bit of your history when she called.” His clear blue gaze held compassion. “Good thing Mr. Fernandez here had the news he did, or we’d have to hold you in jail until we heard from Oahu.” He pulled a photo of Enola’s sprawled, broken body out of the file and slid it over to Sophie. He pointed to a detail area showing blood spatter on her ragged gown. “The medical examiner is still doing a more in-depth analysis, but the blood type on her dress matches that of the victim. She also had blood on her hands, as you pointed out. Your story checks out.”

  “And what of the boys? Were they found?” Sophie asked.

  “Your friend Alika was able to bring them in for questioning without incident. They all tell the same story. Those boys are kinda…Lord of the Flies.” Jenkins shook his head, smiling ruefully. Sophie remembered the book from her American Literature class, and nodded as Jenkins continued. “I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side in a dark alley. But with Lei’s social worker friend’s help, we found the perfect foster situation for them on a taro farm in Wainiha. They will stay together and live with a local family. There’s a therapist visiting weekly who does ho’oponopono—the Hawaiian way of therapy. Hopefully the damage the Shepherd did can be undone.”

  “And what about Nakai?” The boy had come to mean so much to Sophie. Her chest hurt at the thought of his grief and loss. “What’s happening to him?”

  “He’s out of the hospital, and I heard the social worker assigned to him has taken him into a foster situation with her family.”

  Sophie smiled in relief. “He wasn’t afraid to ask for what he wanted. I am glad for him.”

  They hashed through a few more details and finally Fernandez stood up. “You going to let my client out of these irons? Let her get her dog out of the pound?”

  “Sure thing. We’re done here.” Jenkins took out a key and freed Sophie from the cuffs. Rubbing her wrists, she hoped she’d never feel their cold steel again.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Several days later, Marcella watched Sophie get out of her father’s shiny black Lincoln Continental in front of Marcella’s cottage, carrying a white casserole dish. Frank got out of his side of the vehicle. Marcella put her hands on her hips. “And where’s your potluck dish, Ambassador?”

  Frank opened the back door of the Lincoln and reached in to retrieve a huge bouquet of tropical flowers. He walked up the wooden steps and handed them to Marcella. “Will these do instead?”

  Burying her nose in tuberose, ginger, and sprays of orchids, Marcella nodded. “Definitely. Thanks for coming, both of you.”

  “I didn’t think it was a choice,” Sophie said. Marcella laughed and reached out to hug her friend, taking in Sophie’s ashy color and sunken cheeks. Clearly her adventure in Kalalau had taken a toll.

  “You’re right. This is your “got out of jail free” party, and if you’d tried to stay in bed for it…well, we both know that wouldn’t have worked.” Marcella kissed both of Sophie’s cheeks in the Italian way. “I have a surprise for you that I think will cheer you up.”

  Sophie managed a smile, which widened into a grin as she spotted a slender boy standing in the doorway, crutches under his arms. “Nakai!”

  “Aunty Sophie!” Nakai exclaimed. At that moment, Marcella loved the Hawaiian way of expressing a relationship between a child and an adult. Frank took the casserole dish, and the normally undemonstrative Sophie ran up the wooden steps to hug the boy.

  Both of them, wounded. Both of them healed in some way by the bond that had sprung up between them because of the unlikeliest of circumstances.

  Marcella ushered everyone inside. She and Marcus had thrown open the slider to their backyard. Freshly mowed, with little white lights strung from the plumeria and lychee trees, the area had taken on a festive feel. Folding tables had been put together and draped in checked cloths from her parents’ downtown restaurant. Her petite, busy mother Anna, bright in one of her fitted muumuus, flitted around outside setting up the food, while her papa Egidio immediately struck up a conversation with Sophie’s father.

  Marcella went into the kitchen and put the flowers in water, watching through the window as Sophie was greeted with hugs by Jake, Ken, and Lei, here on short notice from another case. Mrs. Feliciano, Nakai’s guardian, also greeted Sophie. Marcus’s sister Leolani, statuesque in a long muumuu, helped Anna with the place settings.

  Marcella accepted a glass of red wine and a kiss from Marcus as he joined her. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, giving her a shiver.

  She kissed him back. “So do you.” Her man did look scrumptious in a crisp white shirt and black jeans, his burly handsomeness set off by the simple clothing.

  “I like how you bring people in and feed them. It’s very Hawaiian.”

  “And very Italian. Who knew Hawaiians and Italians were so perfect together?”

  Marcus smiled. “You read my mind as usual, and this is the perfect segue.” He stepped out onto the porch, tugging Marcella by the hand. He only let go to tap his glass with a spoon. “Can I have your attention, please?”

  All eyes turned toward them, and the group advanced to stand around them at the top of the porch stairs. Marcella’s brows shot up in surprise as Marcus dropped to one knee before her, reaching for her hand.

  “Marcella. You are the most passionate, hardworking, warm-hearted, loving, and loyal woman I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine a better future than one spent with you, doing satisfying work together and building a life filled with friends and family. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Marcella’s mouth dropped open even as her eyes welled up. His speech was both smoothly delivered and heartfelt. People at HPD had always said Marcus Kamuela could sell refrigerators to Eskimos, and her frozen shock began to melt as he turned to their friends. “I think I surprised her.” A rustle of nervous laughter passed through the group as Marcella closed her mouth with an effort. Marcus took out a small black velvet box. “A tiny token of my love for you. I’d be the happiest man in the world if you’d wear it.”

  The massive diamond solitaire ring resting on a black velvet cushion was hardly tiny—it was at least a couple of carats. Ridiculous. Over the top. Totally impractical. Just like Marcus to get her something a movie star would wear.

  “Holy crap!” Marcella clapped her hands over her mouth as h
er tears overflowed. Marcus stayed on bended knee as she scolded, “You brat! I can’t believe you sprang this on me, and this rock! You could have gotten a new car!” She plucked the diamond out of the box and slid it on, throwing her arms around his solid body and bending to kiss him in a frenzy. “Yes, Marcus, yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

  Cheers, applause, and laughter swirled around them like bubbles in champagne, but all Marcella noticed were her beloved’s arms around her as he rose to crush her tight in the longest hug.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Sophie’s eyes burned as she watched the tender scene play out on the porch between Marcella and Marcus. Her heart was so full of joy—she was watching a fairy tale come true. Maybe love between a man and a woman really could work. There was no darkness in the beauty she was witnessing: only light, and love, and honesty.

  But not for her. Never for her. She’d been broken one too many times.

  When Marcus stood and drew his fiancée into his arms for a hug, Sophie finally blinked. Tears rolled down her cheeks, hot and unwelcome.

  “Are you okay?” Jake was standing beside her—she’d forgotten he was there. His whisper raised the hairs on the back of her neck. He took her nerveless, cold hand in one of his.

  “I’m just so happy for them.” Sophie removed her hand. She didn’t deserve to be touched, to be warm. Her feet were too far away, her vision telescoping. She heard words in her head, spoken in Dr. Wilson’s voice, but they came out in her own. “A dissociative episode is occurring.”

  “What?” Jake stepped in front of her. He loomed, filling her vision, blocking the view of her friends. His big hands gripped her shoulders. “Sit down.”

  He physically moved her stiff, unresponsive form over to a chair under the plumeria tree and pushed her down into it. “You need a drink.” He disappeared.