by Toby Neal
“I’ve been following your case and it looks like it’s wrapping up, though there’s quite the media shitstorm because Ito was in the department. Just don’t watch the news, it’s better not to. Did you complete all the counseling?”
“No. Got two more sessions.” She dreaded telling Dr. Wilson about this latest development, the complicated horror of her Damaged Goods past. Maybe she could bluff her way through the sessions. . . . She flinched, remembering blue eyes that always saw too much.
“I’ll stop in the Lieutenant’s office tomorrow, tell him you’d be better off on-duty. It’d help if you call him and request it.”
“Will do.” She pushed a sealed envelope toward him. “Can you give this to Stevens?”
“No way.” Pono held his hands up, refusing to touch it. “You know the saying, ‘shoot the messenger’? Well, that man is armed.”
“Chicken.” She pulled the envelope back. “I thought you had the stones to hand a guy a Dear John letter.”
“I wouldn’t do that for my sister back in eighth grade, and I’m not going to do it for you. Do your own dirty work.” He stood up. “Okay. I’m taking this in and I’m going to try and get you back on active duty. I can’t take one more day with Jenkins, so don’t let me down.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She followed him outside to his huge lifted truck, pulled up on the sidewalk.
She took the mail out of the box. He waited silently to see if there was anything new while she flipped through the slim pile. Nothing. She waved him off and he hopped up into the truck. Lei didn’t feel safe even after she got back into the house.
Back in the kitchen, she cleared the beer bottles away into the recycling bag. Pono’s bottle cap had been left on the table. She picked it up, put it in her pocket. Sat down and took out her phone, speed-dialed Stevens. She put her hand in her pocket and played with the cap as his phone rang.
“Lei. How you feeling?”
“Better, thanks. Listen, I have something to tell you.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Let me come over, we’ll talk in person.”
“No. This is fine. I need to just say it.” She took a deep breath, squeezed the bottle cap in her hand so the sharp crimped metal bit into her fingers. “I can’t be with you. This was a mistake.”
Silence.
“What’s going on?” His voice was soft, kind. Easy tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed the cap harder. She felt one of the tiny ridges break the skin and she welcomed the pain.
“Nothing. I’m just not ready to be in a relationship. This has all been too much and I need you to leave me alone.”
“Okay. I understand that.” His voice was cautious now. “We can take all the time you need. In fact, I was thinking we needed to go back to the beginning a bit—that’s why I brought flowers.”
The tears spilled down her cheeks. She held her breath so she wouldn’t sob, feeling blood welling into the palm clutching the bottlecap.
“No. No. I am just not right for you, Stevens. Leave me alone, I’m telling you. It’s over.”
She closed the phone with a snap, couldn’t help throwing it away from her even as she cried out in dismay. It skittered across the table and crashed to the floor in two pieces.
She took her hand out of her pocket, went to the sink. The bottlecap had cut her palm. She held her hand under the sink, watching the blood well and disappear for a long moment. Then she took the bottlecap in the hand with the cast and dug it deliberately into the meat of her arm just below the elbow, dragging it downward.
The roar of pain washed over her, a burning that felt like absolution. She did it a few more times until all she could think about was the hot throbbing of her arm. She watched the blood trickle off her elbow into the sink, a hypnotizing watercolor of pinkening droplets as it melted into running water.
This crazy shit was the kind of thing you did when you were Damaged Goods.
The calm that follows pain came to her at last.
She blotted the cuts with a paper towel and striped them with antibiotic ointment in the bathroom, covered them with a band-aid. She also took care of the nasty bite on her collarbone, changing the bandage by looking in the mirror. She never once looked at her own eyes.
Lei changed into running clothes, went back into the kitchen and put the phone back together, anchoring the pieces with a strip of duct tape. Fortunately it still worked. She slipped the bottlecap into the pocket of her running shorts as she called the station and requested Lieutenant Ohale.
“Hey Lieutenant. Lei here. I’d like to request to come back on active duty.”
“Yeah, Pono came by to see me already.” She heard the creaking of his overworked office chair. “Good to hear from you. How’s the wrist?”
“Getting stronger every day,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “I did an hour of target practice yesterday and it held up fine.” She looked at the wrist, ignoring the dull ache it gave her back.
“So what about those counseling sessions? And I wanted you to have that extra post-trauma debriefing after the incident with Ito.”
“All done,” she lied. She knew Dr. Wilson had turned in the evaluation paper in good faith, and guilt stabbed her before she ruthlessly quashed it. She couldn’t afford to let the psychologist know what was going on. Her only chance to get back to normal was to get back to work and find Charlie Kwon herself.
“A few more days, okay? The investigation is wrapping up. When you do come back I want you to wear a sling. Last thing I need is some workmen’s comp claim years from now.”
“Deal,” Lei said. “Thanks, Lieutenant.” She closed the phone, snapped her fingers for Keiki, and took the truck out onto the road toward Volcano Park.
She couldn’t be home when Stevens came by—he’d never accept just a phone call to break things off.
Chapter 44
Lei ran down the narrow path along the crater, Keiki ahead of her, the dog’s ears laid back. She’d chosen the lush side of the park where massive fern trees arched over the trail winding along the cliff’s edge. The north side of the volcano caught rain, and a primordial jungle of ohia trees, wild ginger, and hundreds of ferns blanketed the slopes while the south side stretched away in miles of raw black lava. Knobbed guava roots reached up to tangle her feet, and off to the right the caldera steamed gently, a vast black moonscape hundreds of feet below the path.
The sheer scope of the scenery failed to distract her today.
The brittle calm from cutting herself had evaporated halfway to the Park. Her mind churned with nauseating memories she couldn’t stifle. Over and over again Kwon’s face loomed, his pupils darkening her vision as she remembered and felt again all the ways he’d raped her.
The drop off the massive cliff she ran along seemed to pull at her, an almost magnetic tug. Her agony of self loathing, her rage, her dim future as Damaged Goods could be over. How easy would it be to just take a running leap out into space? She pictured a cartwheeling fall, the vast distance to the bottom of the crater more than high enough to make sure the jump was fatal. Her mind played the jump again and again as her body ran on autopilot.
Lei increased her speed, having to concentrate fully on the treacherous ground, the emptiness of total effort finally extinguishing the fantasies. She ran all out, oblivious to the exotic beauty of the setting.
God, help me. I can’t take much more of this, she thought. The prayer echoed in her pulse. God help me, God help me.
Keiki began to lag, her tongue lolling. Lei pulled up at a vista area bordered by the service road, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath, looking out over the drop behind the low steel safety barrier, but no longer feeling that murderous pull so strongly toward the edge. With a pang of guilt, she wondered what would happen to her dog if she were gone. Keiki quested through the long grass for moisture, lapping at dewdrops.
“Sorry, baby,” Lei panted. “I have a drink for you.” She took a water bottle out of the pocket of her
windbreaker, now tied around her waist. She poured water into her palm, holding it for the big dog to drink.
The shoulder holster was hot and itchy. She unbuckled it and laid it on a picnic table, sat on the table with her feet on the bench and let the wind off the caldera cool her face.
She noticed the sweet piercing song of the apapane at last, the rare, red honeycreeper that called the park home. She looked across the vast expanse of the volcano to the distant rim. A steam vent exhaled vapor that blew off the edge in a falling cloud. The sky arched overhead, a dome of soothing blue. All was right with the world.
She let go of Keiki’s leash, letting the dog nose through the grass and flop down to rest after a good roll. She lay down on the picnic table, covering her eyes with her good arm. The vigorous exercise had finally broken through the turmoil of her mind.
A different memory came to her, a line from the Bible that she had read over and over in the dingy hotel rooms of her life with her mother, as if repetition would help her understand: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God . . . And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not comprehend it.
Did that mean she was in darkness, because she didn’t understand? But I think God is helping me anyway. I have to remember exercising works better than cutting myself . . . She sat up, sighing. Maybe it was time to make a new card that would help her remember.
A charcoal Toyota truck with heavily tinted windows rolled toward them, cruising slowly along the narrow blacktopped road. Lei sat up, reaching for the leash as Keiki stood, her ears pricked. The truck drew abreast of them, stopped. She tensed as the mirrored window rolled down.
This couldn’t be good.
She saw a muted gleam of sunlight off a matte black metal surface, and launched herself off the table onto the ground.
“Keiki! Down!”
Lei saw the muzzle flash, heard the blast, and her dog yelped, twisting in the air as she fell.
“No!” Lei screamed. “Keiki, no!” Her ears rang from the shot, a jolt of terror and shock blasting through her system.
She reached up and caught the dangling strap of the holster, yanked it down into the grass beside her. The vehicle’s door opened, a leg stepped out. She pulled her gun, and hunkered down in a slight depression beneath the picnic table. The wide crossbar blocked her view.
“Lei, come out.” He knew her name.
She sighted around the crossbar and fired, hitting the jeans-clad leg. The man shrieked, falling back into the truck. She crawled forward, braced her elbows on the ground for another shot. The shooter’s curses were cut off as he slammed the door. The engine revved, and the Toyota began to pull away.
She surged up from the grass, aiming for the front and side tires. They blew out with a satisfying boom. The truck ground into a turn. She heard the thunder of more shots fired back at her, but stood square, aiming for the other back tire. She blew it.
The Toyota kept going. She aimed for where the driver’s head would be. The reflective back windshield broke inward, a grapefruit-sized hole, and the vehicle jerked to a halt.
She dropped flat again, belly-crawling to Keiki. The dog raised her head and whimpered. A bloody hole showed where the bullet had entered her upper chest and blown out the shattered shoulder in a much bigger crater, leaving a long oozing score down her side. Blood welled from the exit wound.
“It’s okay, girl. I think you’re gonna make it if we can get out of here,” Lei whispered, laying her windbreaker over the wound and leaning on it. Keiki writhed but lay still as Lei brought her gun up again, sighting on the stalled vehicle.
“Drop your weapon and come out with your hands up,” she bellowed, “and I promise I won’t kill you.”
“Fuck you, bitch!” came from the truck, followed by more shots fired in her direction.
She crawled backward behind the picnic table, dragging Keiki by the hind legs. The dog let her, only whining a little as Lei situated them in the slight decline in the ground beneath the table. In one quick heave she stood up and flipped the table on its side facing the car. Shots fired, and this time splinters gouged Lei’s shoulder as a bullet buried itself in the wood inches away.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She turned her head to look and felt her stomach lurch at the same time as pain hit like a red-hot poker. A spray of splinters stuck up like porcupine quills from her left shoulder.
She sucked a few breaths, getting the pain under control, and peeked around the table. She looked at the spot on the wood where the bullet had gone in. It hadn’t made it all the way through the thick timber. The benches’ angle threw the tabletop forward, but she was still hidden behind it.
She hunkered back down, putting pressure on Keiki’s wound again. They’d be safe for the moment. She dug the cell phone out of the blood-soaked windbreaker. Thumbed it open and dialed 911. Reception was always iffy in the park, but the bars lit up. She identified herself, called for backup and an ambulance.
“Sorry, Officer Texeira, help’s about ten minutes away,” the operator said. “We’ll notify the park service and maybe they can get there sooner. Take cover and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Keiki, we’re okay,” she whispered in the dog’s ear, closing the phone on the operator’s protests to keep the line open. “Hang in there, baby.”
The Toyota started up again. She stood up in a squat behind the table, trying to see what he was doing, her weapon out. There was only one operational tire left, but he could still get far enough away on the rims to escape on foot. The truck rolled forward, the blown tires rumbling and flapping against the road.
He wasn’t going to shoot her dog and get away with it—it was that simple. She’d only used up five of the Glock’s fifteen rounds.
She jumped up and dodged out from behind the table, running bent over, weaving. A wild shot blew up gravel that stung her legs as the Toyota rumbled away. She shot out the remaining tire but it kept going, picking up speed. She followed in an all-out run now and blasted the rest of the clip into the back of the cab.
This time when the truck stopped, the horn sounded, one long mournful blast.
She crouched, came along the driver’s side. Grabbed the handle, popped the door.
“Come out with your hands up and I won’t shoot!”
The driver was slumped against the door and, as it opened, he tipped out, falling out of the truck facedown. She recognized the back of his head, sleek as an otter’s pelt. A bullet wound bled from the center of his spine.
She hauled him all the way out into the road by his armpits. He was alive, and blinked up at her, hazel eyes confused.
Ray Solomon.
Nothing surprised her anymore.
“Lei. I can’t feel anything. I can’t move my legs.”
“Goddamn it Ray, I thought you were a friend!” She sat down next to him. He looked bad, his complexion gray and greasy, his body limp.
“Am I dying? I heard you feel cold when you’re dying. I don’t feel cold. I can’t feel anything.”
“You might be dying, I don’t know. What the hell is going on?”
“We’re Changs,” he said. “Your old man killed our old man, and me and Anela thought we’d get him back, prove ourselves to Healani and the captains. I was never going to qualify for the police department. . .” His voice trailed off as the sound of sirens got louder.
“Wake up. Who else was in on this? Who is ‘Anela’? Come on, confession of a dying man and all that.” She slapped his cheek.
He’d passed out. She kicked away his Glock, fallen beside him, and got up and hurried back to Keiki. She was leaning on the wound when the park service, followed by response vehicles, rolled up.
She waved and yelled, “Priority first aid over here!”
The paramedics ran over with their bags. When they saw the fallen was a dog, they turned to leave. Lei pulled the empty Glock.
“Help my dog. Now.”
Detective Ross,
getting out of his unmarked Bronco and responding to one of her emergencies yet again, waved one of the paramedics away and directed the other.
“Texeira’s in shock. She didn’t mean it. Help the dog, please. Lei, put the gun away, for crying out loud.”
The paramedic did first aid as best he could, and when the ambulances loaded up, they were carrying two stretchers.
Stevens pulled up with Pono in the next wave of responders. He ran over to where Lei sat on the righted picnic table talking to Ross and Nagata, who’d put the two Glocks into evidence bags for Ballistics.
“Lei!” he scooped her into a hug, blood and all. She winced at the pain from the splinters in her shoulder and pushed him away.
“I’m okay.” She saw the blood drain out of his face as he stepped back, obviously remembering she’d broken up with him.
“I was coming to talk to you at your house when I heard about it on the radio. How did this happen?”
“Remember I told you about the guy from my class and the gun range acting weird? He just rolled up on us and started shooting.”
He tried to get Lei to look at him, moving to stand in her sightline—she wouldn’t.
“I’m thinking he’s been in on the stalking, maybe from the beginning.” She noticed the alert gaze of Detective Ross and turned away. “Leave me alone.”
“I need to take you in for an interview,” Ross said. “Come this way.”
The lanky detective gave her some support under the elbow as she staggered, exhausted. He let her sit up front in the Bronco as they headed out. She watched Stevens getting smaller in the rearview mirror as they drove away.
Chapter 45
Lei gave her statement in one of the interrogation rooms, accompanied by her union rep, a Budda-like Indian named Vishka. After a strenuous hour or two Ross and Nagata dismissed her to go speak to Lieutenant Ohale.
“He’s been observing,” Ross said in an aside as she left. He gave her good shoulder a kindly pat. “Hang in there. We’re going to wrap this up soon.”