Motive ; One Last Day ; Going Viral

by Dustin Stevens

  They weren’t the people he was there to see anyway.

  The initial proposal thinned out over two-thirds of the crowd, leaving a handful still staring at him. A couple of them took a step or two closer, casting a wary glance his way.

  “What you need teeth for?” an older woman with stringy grey hair and no more than a few teeth in her head asked.

  Ignoring her and her question, Danilo ventured another step closer, his only real concern allowing one of them to get a clear look at him.

  “I need children’s teeth,” he said. “Baby teeth. No adult ones.”

  Reaching into his back pocket, Danilo extracted a roll of cash and fanned it out, hundreds of dollars. He held the wad of bills up high enough for everyone to see, waving it back and forth above his head. “As you can see, I have the money. I only wish to exchange it for some baby teeth for a project my employer is working on. In a few months, they will grow back, and you’ll be all the richer for it.”

  Not once in the preceding weeks had Danilo felt remorse, save the times he was forced to watch Saiki at work in his lab. While the young girls’ deaths could be seen as regrettable, there was no cause for him to feel guilt. Their demise would help achieve far more than any of them or their unborn children could in life.

  Standing in front of the homeless gathered beneath the H-1 freeway, he still felt no emotion. Someone better adjusted, with a more attuned sense of morality, might have felt evil preying on the less fortunate, using their hunger for food or drink or drugs against them.

  Instead, all Danilo felt was relief, glad that on this particular night, the hard part was done for him. He didn’t have to spend all day putting a plan into motion, searching out the optimal place to isolate his targets, making sure his getaway was clean.

  All he had to do was wave the cash around and they would come right to him, offering themselves up for a shot at the money. It was like a shark fisherman dropping chum into the water.

  “I got three babies,” a large woman to his far left said, holding a hand up above her head and waving him over. “I don’t know how many teeth they got, but you can take ‘em all for $400.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The report from Dr. Song was much the same as the day before, only this time in duplicate. Two young women, both with massive vaginal scarring, were brought in with vicious slashes across their throats and abdomens. Official cause of death was exsanguination from the severing of the jugular veins. Time of death was somewhere between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m., with lividity showing that the bodies had been moved sometime after death.

  The only difference at all between the two was that one of them was pregnant.

  No trace of the fetus or umbilical cord was found with the mother.

  Kalani mulled over the new information as she made her way back across the Likelike Highway. Her day had started at just after 4:00 a.m., an unpleasant jolt from her slumber by the growling voice of Chief Tseng. The clock on the dash told her it was now 9:28 at night.

  After dropping Rip off at his home near Pearl City, she had swung through an L&L drive-thru for a plate of chicken katsu and fries, the smell of fried food wafting up from the passenger seat. Despite the hour, the air was still warm and swirled through the open-air Jeep, whipping the hair around her head.

  Three days ago, her biggest concern was trying to sleep through the night. In the time since, she had been forced into active duty by a governor intent on covering up what was fast starting to look like the work of a serial killer.

  A serial killer who was escalating quickly, demanding to be noticed.

  Along the way she had cajoled an old family friend into joining her and pissed off a ranking detective. She had assisted with tracking down a low-level pimp and interrogating a working girl with a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. Twice in as many days she’d made the trek to Tripler, bearing witness to bodies having experienced the double indignities of being viciously murdered and then ritualistically examined for evidence.

  At least the exhaustion she now felt might be enough to allow her to sleep.

  Turning north onto the Kamehameha Highway, Kalani leaned hard on the gas, her mind already working out whether to shower before eating or the other way around. The speedometer passed 60 as she ground out the last few miles, her heart rate picking up in her chest as she slid to a stop in front of her home.

  Parked at the end of her driveway was a newer Ford Focus, the bright red paint flashing under Kalani’s headlights. On instinct she reached down into the middle console and pulled her Beretta up to her lap.

  Gone was any trace of hunger or exhaustion as she rolled past the Focus, looking for signs of life, any indicator as to who may be calling on her at such an hour. To her knowledge there were only a handful of people who even knew where she lived, none of whom she could recall driving such a car.

  The brakes on her Jeep emitted a tiny squeal as she pulled to a stop in front of her house and killed the engine, leaving the headlights on. If she were to turn them off now, it would take several seconds for her pupils to dilate, leaving her temporarily blinded. Instead, she drew the weapon out a little and shifted her body, staring out into the darkness.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello back,” a male voice said, a trace of local accent present, free of any hostility.

  Kalani jerked her head toward the sound, her body rigid. She could feel sweat on her skin, her breaths quick and shallow. “Who’s there?”

  The rhythmic sound of flip-flops slapping against feet could be heard growing closer, a silhouette emerging from the darkness. As it drew nearer Kalani slid the gun free from its holster and rested it against her thigh, her index finger along the trigger guard.

  “Easy now,” the voice said, offering a half chuckle. “You won’t be needing that.”

  Step by step, the silhouette came into view, a pair of empty hands rising by its side. A man who appeared to be Native Hawaiian stood before her, his height just a few inches over 5’ tall. Watching her assess him, he reached with his left hand and extracted his wallet, holding it up with his identification visible, despite being too far away for Kalani to read it.

  “My name is Kimo Mata. I’m just here to talk.”

  It took Kalani a moment to place the name, one she vaguely recognized, the face one she had seen on television a number of times, though she was certain she had never met him in person. She let out a deep sigh, “Dammit Kimo, I almost shot you.”

  “So I see,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. He lowered his hands and replaced the wallet in his back pocket. “Do all cops on leave take weapons with them when they run out for dinner?”

  Kalani looked down at the weapon before sliding it back into its holster. “What do you want, Kimo?”

  Shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, Kimo raised his shoulders in a shrug. “I just want 20 minutes of your time. You don’t even have to invite me in.”

  Remaining seated, Kalani could think of no less than a dozen reasons why the best-known investigate journalist in the state might wish to speak to her. None of them were appealing. “I wasn’t going to. You can have five.”

  A look that bordered on offended passed over Kimo’s face before fading just as fast, his hands again rising by his sides, this time in resignation. “Fair enough.”

  “How’d you find me?” Kalani asked, letting her distaste for his showing up at her home come across in her voice.

  “Really?” Kimo asked with a smirk. “I’m an investigative journalist, you think I can’t track down an address? Besides, from what I hear, you’ve got far bigger concerns on your plate right now than me.”

  Kalani fought to keep her face impassive. “Oh, yeah? Such as?”

  The smirk turned into a full smile as Kimo looked down at the ground and then up again. “Okay, you can feign ignorance. I’ll just start with what I know, and you can jump in whenever you feel like it. Deal?”

  Kalani stared back at him, saying nothing. She had been given ex
plicit orders by Tseng that the investigation was to be done silently. She knew she had done nothing to draw Kimo’s attention, nor had Rip. She couldn’t imagine Tseng had either.

  “I heard a rumor that a couple of nights ago a body was found on the floor of the capitol,” Kimo began. “I also heard it was cleaned up and gone by the start of business the next morning.”

  As far as Kalani knew, very few people were privy to that information. Whoever had tipped off Kimo must have been one of them, or very well connected.

  “I also heard that just this morning two bodies were found in the sand at Ala Moana Beach. And just like the other night at the capitol, the site was wiped clean, and the bodies were moved away before the sun came up.”

  “Wow, you hear a lot,” Kalani inserted, trying to make her voice sound bored.

  “Oh, I’m just getting started,” Kimo said, the smile still in place. “I also heard that showing up to do the processing this morning was one Chief Tseng, assisted by none other than former front-page girl, Kalani Lewis.”

  Kalani drew a deep breath, trying to ignore her pulse racing through her temples. She could feel her heart pounding out a steady cadence in her chest.

  The second half of the equation wasn’t as hard to figure out. Sturgis had been pissed when he left, and everything Kalani knew about him told her he wouldn’t be above calling someone like Kimo to prove a point.

  Still, she couldn’t reveal any of this without speaking to Tseng first.

  “Again, I say, you hear a lot,” Kalani replied. “But I hope you didn’t pay for any of that information. Seems someone’s been messing with you.”

  Using the toe of his sandal, Kimo poked at a stone along the edge of the driveway, shaking his head from side to side. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “No?”

  “No,” Kimo said, kicking the stone away, sending it skittering across the ground. “What I think is, the two are connected. I don’t know how or why yet, but I’ll figure that out soon enough.”

  The fact that he had already connected them meant he was much further along than Kalani cared to admit. He was right, eventually he would figure things out. She only hoped when he did, she had gotten to the answer first.

  “So again, I ask, what do you want, Kimo?”

  The smile fell from his face. He pulled his hands from his pockets, his body drifting toward his car at the end of the drive.

  “Maybe nothing. But since I had heard you were poking around the scene this morning, and as far as I know, you haven’t been cleared for active duty yet, I thought we might be able to help each other.”

  Kalani could feel her scalp crawl as the gap between them grew larger.

  “If I had any idea what you’re talking about, that would be a sweet offer, but since I don’t...”

  Once more the smile flashed on Kimo’s face, his pace increasing as he headed off into the night. “But since you don’t...”

  He made it all the way to his car before turning back to her. “Should that ever happen, though, keep my offer in mind, okay?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The unexpected encounter with Kimo Mata the night before still had Kalani on edge. Despite the overwhelming exhaustion she had felt, her sleep had been fitful, the Beretta under her pillow, the .38 on the nightstand. She’d given up for good sometime just after 5:00, sitting on the picnic table she’d shared with Tseng days before, guzzling coffee and trying to wrap her mind around everything that was happening.

  Most of her thoughts centered on the fact that someone was leaking the investigation to the media. She had a good idea for the bodies found at the beach, but drew a blank for the one at the capitol. For over an hour Kalani sat and tried to determine who might do such a thing, and more importantly, what their goal might be.

  Given the gruesome nature of the murders and the very public locations of their disposals, the possibilities were extensive. Factor in that the governor himself was fighting so hard to cover things up, it became even more confusing.

  There was simply too much Kalani didn’t know. If she was going to move forward on the case, she needed to see Tseng.

  Waiting until 7:00 a.m., Kalani called the chief and asked for a meeting as soon as he was available. She could tell by his graveled voice and brusque tone, he was faring no better than she, the combined impacts of stress and exhaustion taking a toll. It was also apparent from his tone and hesitancy that the last thing he wanted to do was risk a debriefing at the station, but after a short back and forth, he relented.

  Provided she could be there and gone before the day shift started at 8:00.

  Without time to swing by Pearl City, Kalani called and rousted Rip from bed, telling him to meet her at the station as fast as he could get there.

  He was sitting on the front steps waiting when she pulled up.

  “Damn, how’d you manage to beat me here?” Kalani offered by way of a greeting, leaving her Jeep parked on the street and shoving a pair of quarters into the meter.

  “Aloha Friday,” Rip said, looking at her through heavily-lidded eyes. “And I never quite made it home.”

  “Rough morning, I take it?”

  “They usually follow good nights,” Rip replied, his voice thick with weariness. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed those bags under your eyes either.”

  Kalani let the barb pass without comment, leading Rip up the center stairs, both of them moving fast to avoid any stray personnel who might have wandered in early. They arrived outside of Tseng’s door, Rip hanging back as Kalani tapped on the frosted glass with her knuckles.

  “Get in here,” Tseng growled from the other side, Kalani and Rip both exchanging a glance before moving inside.

  The appearance of Tseng seated behind his desk matched his voice to the letter. His clothes were neat and pressed and his hair was combed, but otherwise he wore the look of a man bridled with stress. Dark circles under his eyes, gray skin, and a puffy face made him look like whatever disease he had was terminal.

  “Good morning, sir,” Kalani said, taking a step inside to allow Rip to enter the confined space behind her. Once he was in, he shut the door, the frosted glass slamming home with a rattle.

  “Chief,” Rip said, dipping his head in greeting.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tseng said, waving a hand at both of them. “Sit.”

  He paused as they settled into a pair of chairs across from him. The scent of stale coffee and paper right off the printer permeated the air, trapped inside by a lack of ventilation.

  “So what’s going on with the investigation?” Tseng said, leveling a glare at Kalani. The words came out just shy of an accusation, the no-nonsense manner in their delivery clear.

  Time was precious. He wasn’t about to have it wasted.

  Kalani had expected the response, having seen the way Tseng carried himself at the beach the day before, knowing another day to stew would only make things worse. Fully aware that the news she was about to deliver would only dampen his mood, she stared at him and said, “You have a problem, sir. A big one.”

  The skin around his eyes drew a little tighter, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

  “Last night I got home to find Kimo Mata waiting for me,” Kalani said. Beside her she could sense Rip shift his gaze to her. Across the desk, Tseng’s jaw dropped, but he remained silent.

  “It was only a fishing expedition to see how involved I was, but...”

  “But he’s already on the scent,” Tseng said, the previous venom gone from his voice.

  “No,” Kalani said, shaking her head. “I got the impression he’d been put on the scent.”

  Kalani let the words hang there, waiting as Rip moved his attention back to face ahead, both of them watching Tseng. The chief stared straight back, resting his forearms on his desk.

  “How much did he know?”

  “He knew about both incidents,” Kalani replied. “Even knew there were two girls on the sand yesterday, and that you and I were there to pro
cess it.”

  Tseng’s nostrils flared. “Sturgis.”

  “That was my initial thought, too,” Kalani said. “But he also knew about the body at the capitol. No way that came from him or any of us.”

  “No,” Tseng agreed, twisting his head from side to side. He worked his jaw as he looked down at his desk. “Dammit. Where are we at with this?”

  “The ME gave us the same basic overview as the first victim. Cause of death was blood loss from a cut throat, with matching slashes across the abdomen.”

  “Both pregnant?” Tseng asked.

  “One of them was,” Kalani said. “They each showed signs of heavy sexual activity, though, so our best guess is, it was a crime of opportunity. He grabbed the pair together, dispatched them in the same way.”

  Tseng considered the information before nodding. “Most likely. Terrible, but still better than a killer with an escalation pattern.”

  Kalani had thought the same thing on the drive home the night before, immediately feeling guilty for finding any silver lining in such a grotesque situation.

  Snapping himself out of the thought, Tseng pushed around some paper, shoving several sheets to the side, he found what he was looking for, holding it at arm’s length in front of him. “I ran the prints through AFIS. One of the girls didn’t turn up anything, but the other hit positive for a Cherry Lee, address on Maunakea, in Chinatown.”

  “Explains the sexual trauma,” Rip commented.

  Kalani asked, “What was she in for?”

  “The usual,” Tseng said, glancing over to Rip. “Solicitation, possession.”

  Kalani nodded, leaning in and accepting the sheet of paper.

  “What about that truck?” Tseng asked. “Anything come of that?”

  Occurring less than 24 hours before, the encounter with Reyes already seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Low-level pimp. Small timer, has a couple of girls convinced he’s the real deal. I was going to file a report, he’s there if you want him, but didn’t think that was the kind of thing you wanted...”