by Toby Neal
“The next people to interview should be Webb and Rayme,” Sophie said, as the four of them ransacked Chernobiac’s living room in a replay of a few days ago. “I think those two might know something about this.”
“What could they possibly know? They are barely functioning tweakers,” Wong said. “We talked to them. They seem like opportunistic bottom feeders, rolling tourists for drug money.”
Sophie glanced at Jake, and catching her cue, he groped to explain the idea that had been forming and had brought them out on this call.
“Here’s a scenario,” Jake said. “I just want us to try it on for size. So, here’s how it goes: Webb and Rayme identify marks. People who have resources and can be shaken down. They are in cahoots with someone who does the killing, after Webb and Rayme turn them loose in the ditch area. The killer does his thing—or, Rayme and Webb are the killers, and the story Julie Weathersby is telling is made up for some reason. This guy has some connection to the Changs.” Jake straightened, dangling a potato chip bag between his fingertips. “Stay with me for a minute. It just seems way too handy that Terence Chang happened along to rescue Julie Weathersby. Maybe he’s the killer and decided not to off her? I don’t know. But I do know that anytime you have a crime empire, you’ve got people who need to be gotten rid of. Dealers who rip you off. Suppliers who take bribes. Meth makers who sample the merch.” Jake dropped the empty bag into a nearby trash can and tipped his head back to stare at the swirly drywall markings on the ceiling and scratched his chin, considering. “Chernobiac either gets wind of this operation, or is a part of it. He shakes down the families of the missing for ransom or reward money. He deflects them with misinformation and keeps them busy and occupied. Meanwhile, the bodies are hidden in the ditch, buried in the jungle, wherever. I suspect you’re going to find a lot more in that area in the coming weeks.”
Jake looked around at the detectives and Sophie. Everyone had paused in the search and was staring right back. Even Freitan was paying attention. “Anyway, things start to come apart when pretty little Julie Weathersby gets away from our killer or is spared, whichever it is. For whatever reason, maybe because she’s a pretty face, or doesn’t fit the profile, or maybe will draw too much heat . . . crime family heir apparent Terence Chang rescues her. He comes up smelling like a rose, which could be part of his agenda.”
Freitan planted her fists on her hips. “That’s a pretty shaky theory. Where’s the motive? What would we need to make it all hang together?”
“Well, we already have a pile of possible trophies from the back of Chernobiac’s computer. Where did he get those? Who are they from? If we could match them to the bodies or the missing, we’d have a better idea of what his role was. But he had those items and the cash we saw. He posted that ad, ran that website, and was soliciting families of the missing. He had some part, I’m sure of it. And someone tried to kill him for it,” Jake said.
“I could find out what his role was if I had his computer,” Sophie said. “I tried to copy his hard drive when we were here last, but I didn’t have time to get the whole thing, and I haven’t had time to go through any of the data I’ve collected. Rather than take more time for this search, I’d like to go back to the station and do what I do best, which is dig for background information. Maybe I can make a connection between the missing and the physical descriptions from the bodies, get a preliminary guess at their identities by cross-checking dates on which people disappeared with the recovered bodies. And if I could identify the bodies, even approximately, I could look for connections between them and the Changs. There might even be something useful I can get off the partial information I have from Chernobiac’s hard drive.”
“Do it.” Freitan flicked a hand at Sophie. “We’ll bring Jake back. Get out of here, computer girl, and find us a thread that ties all this altogether.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Sophie sat down in the air-conditioned coolness of the Hilo PD’s computer room. She had yet to find anyone else working in the dilapidated old room when she was there, and she preferred it that way. After the emotional roller-coaster she’d been on, settling in front of her laptop was the best moment of the day so far.
Sophie plugged in her headphones, turned on her music, and cracked her knuckles. She plugged the square black write blocker external hard drive into her laptop’s port and imported the data she had been able to harvest from Chernobiac’s computer to her own for viewing. She searched through the contents, setting DAVID’s parameters to sift for any labeling terms that might help her detect useful information.
While Chernobiac’s info was being data mined, she ran a comparison between the database of the missing persons and the estimated date of death posted by the medical examiner on the bodies they’d recovered from the ditch. Those could be within days or even weeks of each other, since not all the missing were reported, but she might be able to match some of the missing information to the bodies, given the approximate height, weight and hair color of the remains.
Looking at the profiles, she was able to come up with three possible matches. They were certainly unrelated as far as type, with age, gender and ethnicity all differing. All of the possible dead were local Hilo residents, not pretty, rich young tourists like Julie.
Maybe Julie was the anomaly, not the “type.” Maybe the man with the knife was more of a straightforward assassin; but in Julie’s case, he had been preparing to “enjoy what he was about to do.”
Running with Jake’s theory that the bodies were somehow related to the Chang crime family business, Sophie set DAVID to work coming up with deep background on the possible matches.
A few minutes later she could confirm that all of the bodies she’d tentatively matched to identities were petty criminals with records. Though she was unable to find any direct connections yet, it was a strong possibility that the four bodies found in the ditch could have been part of the Chang empire, disposed of for one reason or another, or preyed upon by the killer for that reason.
Sophie glanced up at the clock. Two hours had already passed. She aggregated the information she’d gathered on the bodies, forwarded it to Freitan and Wong’s email, and turned her attention to Chernobiac’s hard drive.
DAVID had mined the data she had for red flag keywords, and come up with a file named Gamestop.
Chernobiac probably thought he was being clever. Hopefully he would wake up from his injuries and be willing to cut a deal with Wong and Freitan to confirm all of this, but Gamestop consisted of rows of initials, dates and numbers that looked to Sophie like names and payout amounts. She printed that file too, her mind churning.
She picked up her phone and called Freitan. “Detective, I have information from Chernobiac’s computer that seems to verify that he was engaged in blackmail. There are initials but I don’t know who they belong to. I worry about Rayme and Webb now. If they were a part of this, if they knew any of the blackmail scheme or had a part in it somehow and someone is tying up loose ends, they might be in danger.”
“They’re locked up tight in county jail,” Freitan said. “But I’ll call over and have them moved to solitary. We’re still out here at Chernobiac’s crime scene but we’ll go interview them.”
“Can I meet you there?”
“For what purpose? No. The interview room at the jail is small; too many of us will spook them. Besides, isn’t your client already identified, and alive?”
“Let Jake go to the interview, then.”
“We don’t even know that Rayme and Webb are involved.” Freitan was getting balky.
“Perhaps you’d like me to close my computer and walk away from this case,” Sophie said coolly. “After all, our client has been found. We have no further role in this investigation.”
A brief pause. “Ah, no. We’d like you to continue, please,” Freitan said, mincing her words as if they pained her.
“We are on the Weathersby family’s payroll through the end of the week,” Sophie said. “I will endeavor to maxi
mize the effectiveness of my work, and Jake can attend the interview with Rayme and Webb. Thanks.”
Sophie ended the call, and opened another window in DAVID.
This time, she plugged in the mysterious name of her mother’s organization. It was time to find out more about the Yām Khûmkạn.
Chapter Forty-Four
Wong and Freitan ended the search and summoned Jake to the SUV. “What’s the emergency? I wasn’t quite done with Chernobiac’s bathroom. Not that I was having any luck finding anything incriminating in there.”
“Your partner called from the station. She confirmed part of the theory that we’ve been talking about. We need to go to the county jail ASAP and interview Rayme and Webb.”
“Excellent.” Jake rubbed his hands together. “What’s the connection?”
“She found evidence of blackmail payments on Chernobiac’s hard drive,” Freitan said. “But there’s still no clear connection to Webb and Rayme; she just thought we should isolate and question them in case they are involved.”
Jake grunted affirmatively as he settled in the back seat and texted Sophie. “So you got intel on Webb and Rayme?”
“I’m busy, Jake.”
At least she was replying. “Keep me in the loop, partner.” Jake didn’t like how even small exclusions felt big to him. So far, he wasn’t doing great at detachment.
“Sorry. I’m focusing on trying to find a connection to Rayme and Webb, and sifting for whoever took the cash and drives a black SUV. No luck so far.”
“Ok. I’m psyched to go to the interview. Thought Freitan & Wong would try to ditch me.”
“They did. I pressured them that we only have a couple days of pay left and we have to make them count.”
“Well, thanks for that. See you when we get back. We can figure out how to wrap things up from there.” The thought of leaving the island and saying goodbye to Sophie curdled Jake’s innards into a restless ball.
“Yes,” was Sophie’s terse reply.
“Sophie thinks whoever killed Chernobiac may also want to silence Rayme and Webb,” Jake said aloud.
“That’s why we’ve called ahead and asked for those two to be moved to solitary, though we still have no evidence the cases are connected,” Freitan replied.
Hawaii County Correctional Center was a lumpish gray cube surrounded by a heavy chain link fence, topped with coils of razor wire. Palm trees at the four corners of the rectangular area attempted a tropical feel that fell short.
Jake and the detectives got out of the SUV in the parking area marked Employees, and the two showed their badges and Jake his ID at the entry point. “Here to see prisoners Holly Rayme and Jim Webb,” Freitan said.
The guard at the booth looked up sharply. “Step inside the sally port, please.” The three did so, and the door immediately locked with a heavy clang.
Guards entered and frisked them roughly. Freitan scowled. “Hey! What the hell?”
The corrections officers said nothing, and Jake kept his mouth shut too. Whatever was going on was higher than his pay grade. Once they had all been cleared, the COs left them in the sally port. One of them addressed Freitan over his shoulder. “We are running your prints and IDs.”
Freitan put her hands on her hips, pacing the tiny area. “Something’s gone down involving our perps. This is not SOP, things are usually pretty casual around here.”
Watching Freitan do that relieved Jake of his need to do the same. Moments later the inner door opened, and admitted them to a hallway. They were met by the warden himself, a slender man with a transparent tonsure of hair and a deep, leathery tan. “Warden Scott Biles. Were you the ones to call in the warning about Webb and Rayme?” Biles asked.
“Yes, we were. We’re here to interview them about our case,” Wong said. “A witness they may be connected to was almost killed, so we thought to be proactive and have them isolated.”
“Ah. Well, there’s been an unfortunate incident. You can speak to Holly Rayme in the infirmary.”
“And Jim Webb?” Freitan still had her hands on her hips.
“Webb is dead. Killed in an altercation on the yard this afternoon. We are following increased security protocol and conducting a full internal investigation.”
Jake tightened his jaw to keep from showing any expression. Freitan swore, and Wong shook his head. “We are still seeking a solid connection between this couple and the witness who died. I guess there must be one.”
Jake followed the two detectives as the warden led them through a series of badly lit corridors smelling of Lysol. They eventually reached the infirmary area.
They observed Holly Rayme from one side of a glass window threaded with a grid of wire. She appeared unconscious, her thin, sallow face swollen and empurpled. Her hands were bandaged, lying quiet on the crisp white sheet.
“She was stabbed with a crude implement and beaten. We had sent a corrections officer to take her to solitary, but he didn’t get there in time,” Warden Biles said.
“I’ll say,” Freitan growled. “Is she in any shape to answer our questions?”
“We asked her who attacked her. She said it was a group of people, she didn’t know or couldn’t identify who—in effect, she refused to answer. She’s stable. You should be able to talk to her just fine. Whether or not she will answer is another question.”
Jake slid in behind the detectives as they entered the room, trying to stay unobtrusive and in the background. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall as the detectives pulled up plastic chairs beside the bed. He didn’t want to get sent out and cut off from the investigation at such a critical point. He slid his phone out of his pocket and thumbed on the Record feature to capture the interview for Sophie to hear later.
“Holly.” Wong was the one to gently shake the woman’s shoulder. Rayme’s eyes flew open in alarm, and Wong patted her arm gently. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Detectives Wong and Freitan. We talked with you when you were first arrested, remember?”
Rayme’s gaze flickered around the room and landed on Jake. “I recognize you.” Her voice was sandpapery thin.
Jake inclined his head. “Sorry you’ve been injured. We were concerned that you might be in danger.”
Freitan shot Jake a look, telling him to back off. “We are here to help,” she said smoothly, turning to Rayme. “Tell us what happened.”
Rayme plucked at the white sheet covering her lap. “I’m not sure. It all went down so fast.”
“We had called down to the jail, requesting that you and Webb be transferred to solitary for your own protection after we got new information that might involve you. Webb turned up dead, and you were attacked, both within the same hour.” Freitan wasn’t pulling any punches.
Rayme’s eyes filled and overflowed. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Jimmy is dead?”
“Afraid so.” Wong patted her arm again. “They got to him before he could be pulled from gen pop.”
“And the reason we called over here was that we thought you might be in trouble, since someone whacked Chernobiac out at his house,” Freitan said.
“Oh God!” Rayme rubbed her eyes with fisted hands. Her voice trembled. “I’m the only one left.”
Jake was impressed with how matter-of-factly Freitan had delivered that piece of news, as if expecting Rayme knew Chernobiac—when they still had no evidence that she did. The detectives exchanged a quick glance with Jake. Now they were getting somewhere.
“We really want to protect you,” Wong kept up the arm rub and soft voice. “What can you tell us about who is trying to kill you?”
“I can’t. No.” Rayme opened those childish fists and covered her mouth with both hands, as if to keep the truth from emerging. Her voice came out muffled. “I can’t tell you anything. He’ll kill me if I do.”
“Kind of seems like he’s going to kill you even if you don’t,” Frietan said dryly.
They waited a bit for this to sink in.
Sure enough, Rayme
dropped her hands and clutched the sheet. “You have to offer me a deal.”
“Don’t have to offer you anything,” Freitan said. “We can just leave you here, and let nature take its course. Makes no never mind to us. One more dead tweaker is one less for us to worry about.”
“But don’t you want to know what has been going on with Chernobiac?” Rayme’s voice rose an octave or two.
“Either you want to talk with us or you don’t.” The detective studied her short, plum-colored nails, and frowned at a chip she saw on one of them.
“Then you have to protect me. Because he will kill me to shut me up. And you need me to put him away.” Rayme’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Protection can be arranged,” Wong assured her. He turned to Freitan, frowning in exaggerated concern. “Detective Freitan, we have to take care of this poor girl.”
Jake worried that Wong was laying it on a little thick, but Rayme’s head nodded like a marionette. “Yes! I’ll tell you everything if you just make sure he can’t get to me.”
Freitan shifted in the cheap plastic chair and brushed imaginary lint off her black jeans. “All right. We’ll see what we can do. I’m going to record this conversation for future reference.” She took out her phone and turned on a Record feature, stating the people present, the date, time, and location, and she Mirandized Holly Rayme.
Once the formalities had been observed, Rayme was in a rush to tell her story. “We had a side hustle going on. Me, Jimmy, Akane Chang, and Paul Chernobiac. It was working great until that Weathersby girl messed things up.”
“Side hustle? As opposed to . . . some other kind of hustle?” Freitan’s eyebrows made inquisitive arches.
“As opposed to the Chang family’s main sources of income. I know it isn’t news to you that the Changs are heavily involved in prostitution, gambling, and drugs,” Rayme said. “The cops are always hassling them. We got to know Akane because we worked in the Changs’ meth factory for a while. Akane is their main enforcer. One of the cousins. He is . . .” Rayme gave a theatrical shudder. “He is not right in the head.”