Paradise Crime Series Box Set

by Toby Neal

  Sophie went through the attack and how she’d ended up with the Sig. Marcella bagged the deadly looking weapon. “Hopefully, the rounds from the wall tell us something and so does this.”

  “So someone came with intent to kill Wolcott. Or were you the target?” Marcus asked.

  “Don’t see how they came for me,” Sophie said. “No one knew I was coming here and I’ve been staying away on purpose.” She told them her worries about Assan.

  “So then we don’t really know who this shooter was going after.”

  “I think it’s safe to assume the target was Alika.” Sophie got up slowly from the floor and sat down on a handy chair beside Alika, glancing over at him.

  Alika was gazing back at her. His golden-brown eyes were circled in pouches of old bruising, but clear and conscious.

  “Who are you?” He articulated each word clearly. “And what am I doing here?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sophie unlocked her apartment, feeling a thousand years old. Marcella was right behind her as she went in, deactivated the alarm and greeted excited Ginger, who badly needed to go out. That was the first thing the two women did, walking the dog out of the building and standing close together against the wall, still sun-warmed though evening was casting purple shadows on the patch of lawn trimmed in hibiscus hedge beside the building. The lab nosed around the grass and did her business

  “They say amnesia is common with a head injury like he has,” Marcella said.

  “That’s the third time you’ve said that and the fourth time I’ve heard it, if you include the doctor who told me the first time.” Sophie cleaned up after the dog and tossed the bag in a nearby garbage can. “Let’s go to that little noodle place on the corner. I need to move. My muscles are stiffening up.”

  Marcella was subdued, and Sophie couldn’t think of what to say either, reduced by exhaustion and trauma to a zombie-like state as they proceeded down the sidewalk to the noodle shop where she and Ginger sometimes got meals.

  “His parents were so happy to see him awake, but he didn’t recognize them either.” Marcella was obviously still bothered for Sophie’s sake.

  “Marcella, it’s okay. I’m just glad he’s alive and going to get better. As long as we can stop whoever’s going after him,” Sophie really believed that right now. The relief of seeing Alika awake had more than made up for the blow of his amnesia. She’d taken comfort from the fact that the forgetfulness seemed global. He hadn’t just mentally deleted her in particular. Ginger flopped down when Sophie secured her leash and they went inside, sitting at the long communal counter.

  They earned a few curious glances from the various patrons of the restaurant, but the owner recognized Sophie.

  “Hope you gave back some of the same.” He made a gesture that took in her battered appearance as he served her a huge bowl of saimin.

  “I made him work for it.” Sophie scooped up fragrant broth with the deep square spoon. “But I didn’t win this time.”

  They talked about the MMA scene as the proprietor served Marcella, and finally moved off to wait on other customers.

  “So I might as well catch you up on Alika’s case. We’ve got the gang members who beat him in custody, and we’re following leads from their testimony.” Marcella slurped a mouthful of noodles and chased a slice of egg around in the broth. “Things are promising with prosecuting your ex. We can’t find any link between Alika and Ang, besides using the same shipper and storage facility. I don’t think this attack is personal, or about you having a relationship with Alika like you’ve been worried about. Everything we’re uncovering seems to point to him running afoul of the Boyz who control the construction trade. They set him up to appear like a wholesale drug shipper and then used him to send a message to other noncompliant developers. But we may not get anyone higher on the food chain for a while. Marcus is digging in for a long investigation into the activity in the construction trade. For now, I’m glad we brought in the hoods who beat him up. They were probably supposed to kill him, and the Boyz sent someone to finish the job at the hospital. Hopefully, we can put enough heat on them so they leave him alone now.”

  Sophie set her spoon down, turned to her friend. “He should probably go home to Kaua`i and recover, get off their radar for a while. And what about shutting down Assan’s operation?”

  “That’s going well so far. We’ve got the injunction approved to seize everything we can locate that he owns in the United States. I’ve been enjoying that.” Marcella grinned the toothy, triumphant smile she reserved for evildoers getting what they deserved. “Even if we can’t extradite him, we can put a serious dent in his business, and that’s going to hurt.”

  “Not enough. And it won’t do anything for his new bride.” Sophie said. “He needs to be stopped. Permanently.”

  “One step at a time.” Marcella picked up her bowl and drank the broth straight from the rim. They both finished, and Sophie took a twenty out of her pocket and set it on the counter. “I think you can be confident we’ve at least shut him down in the United States.”

  “It’s a start. Keep the change,” Sophie told the owner, and got a head nod and the flash of a gold tooth in reply.

  “Win next time.” He shook the bill at her. “I’m planning to bet more than twenty on you someday.”

  Sophie smiled, and it hurt her split lip. They untied Ginger and headed back toward her building.

  “So you know I’m on admin leave, right?” Sophie said as they walked down the sidewalk. Her full belly had brought on immediate sleepiness, and now all she could think about was getting to bed. “Waxman is disciplining me for not telling him about the break-in at my apartment.”

  Marcella gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’m way too familiar with being on his shit list. I don’t envy you right now. Yeah, I heard in the staff briefing—he used your breach as an example of ‘the wrong kind of independent action.’” She made air quotes. “I’m sorry. But you need some time off anyway. You can visit Alika tomorrow, take that dog to the park. Get a pedicure.” Marcella dimpled at Sophie.

  “Right. I finally have time to do a pedicure. Ow. Mouth hurts when I smile.” They’d arrived at her building.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Make sure you’re okay. And brace yourself. I think Waxman’s sending Dr. LaSota to make a house call on you.” Marcella gave Sophie a hug.

  “Thanks for the warning. I don’t care for that woman.”

  “I don’t know anyone who does.”

  “She told me I should have therapy—because of Assan. I didn’t want to hear it at the time, but…” Sophie raised her shoulders, dropped them. “She might be right.”

  “Well, you don’t have to do therapy with her. Dr. Wilson is a much better choice.” Marcella named the petite blond psychologist that worked for the state police department and did contracting work for the FBI.

  “Maybe I can head off Dr. LaSota by already having an appointment with Dr. Wilson,” Sophie said. “Worth a try.”

  “I’ll text you Dr. Wilson’s number. See you.”

  Sophie waved at her friend and tugged Ginger away from a dead toad on the sidewalk. “No, girl.” The brown, warty amphibians came out everywhere in Hawaii after a rain, and this one had been flattened by a car. Ginger loved nothing better than to roll on a dead toad, and the strong reek was hard to get out of her thick fur.

  Up in the apartment, Sophie did her new security routine: relock door once inside, activate alarm, review security footage from the day on fast forward, and sweep the apartment for bugs. Only when all that was done did she open a can of food for Ginger.

  “Wish you were a better guard dog,” she told the lab, giving her an affectionate pat. “But that’s okay. You’re good company, and that’s enough for me.”

  She turned on her computer rigs with the fob, stripped out of her dirty clothes, and got into the shower. Under the warm flow of water, she reviewed the day.

  She and Alika were both lucky to be alive. Sophie decided
what she’d do tomorrow morning. There were still some loose ends she could run down, some unfinished business she could take care of, even on admin leave.

  Wrapped in the dragon robe, she called the number Marcella had given for Dr. Wilson, and left a message requesting at least a phone or Skype appointment “to discuss a case and do a post-shoot debrief.”

  Done with necessary reaching out, she blinked blearily at the multiple screens, and realized that, exhausted as she was, she was still lonely. Sheldon Hamilton, wherever he was, must sometimes feel that way. He had to be so alone, hiding from everyone.

  She clicked on the email address she’d saved from the Ghost, and sent him a message.

  “I had a hard day. I told my boss about your getting into my apartment, and he didn’t like how I handled the situation and put me on admin leave for a couple of days. Then, I went to the gym and lost my bout. Haven’t taken such a beating in the ring in a long time, and it was just fine because I was so angry. It made me feel better, but then I visited a friend who’s in the hospital, and someone tried to shoot him. We barely got out alive. I hope your day was even a tiny bit better than mine. Why don’t you tell me why you disappeared? What does that accomplish? I’m curious. I just really want to know.”

  The cursor blinked, and Sophie stared at it, realizing that was the truth. Sheldon Hamilton’s disappearance just didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Maybe her conclusion yesterday was wrong. The Ghost wasn’t Hamilton after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Ghost’s phone beeped with an alert to his secure email address. He was in the middle of a difficult section of a Bach concerto, and he ignored the tiny beep. But even as he held a note vibrating at the top end of the scale, then ripped through an arpeggio, he wanted to check it.

  Only a handful of people had that email.

  One of them was Sophie Ang.

  The Ghost faced the windows overlooking the moonlit ocean, the music stand open in front of him. He’d been working out before practice, and just wore the silk boxers he liked for bed, a swatch of silk protecting the violin from the skin of his shoulder. He enjoyed the easy movement of his muscles, the warmed up feel of his fingers, the sensation of air on his skin and the feeling of the music coming to life under his fingers, moving through his body.

  When he got to the end of the piece, he lowered the violin and bowed to Anubis. The dog’s alert eyes watched him from a graceful pose.

  “I want to get that email,” he told Anubis. “That means I need to play the piece again. Delayed gratification is what makes life sweet.”

  Anubis twitched his ears and blinked.

  The Ghost started the piece again, and shut his eyes, giving himself over fully to the music, his mind completely silent for once as every sense and nerve ending engaged with playing it perfectly. But not just perfectly. With passion.

  At the end, Anubis sat up and inclined his head.

  “You’re a king among dogs.” The Ghost set the violin in its case and tossed Anubis a treat. Anubis only provided that acknowledgement when the Ghost had played perfectly.

  He delayed gratification further by taking a shower. Under the stream of water he mentally reviewed his earlier live chat with Sophie Ang. He didn’t think he’d given her any clues, and he’d tried to allay her justifiable anger at being under surveillance. He hoped he’d succeeded. He’d meant it when he said he hadn’t planned to spy on her.

  But now, he missed seeing her. Knowing what she was doing. Still, he knew the next overture had to come from her.

  Finally, dressed for bed in a fresh pair of boxers and a thin tee, he sat down at his workstation and opened the email.

  He finished reading Sophie’s note and savored the fact that she had told him about her day, even though it had obviously been harrowing.

  Using a search program, he tracked everything he could find about the attack at the hospital. He blanched at the sight of the bullet-riddled wall of the hospital room where “an intrepid off-duty FBI agent moved quickly to save the life of a friend.”

  No details about who it was or why they were attacked.

  But he knew. Alika Wolcott was her MMA coach and “friend.” His name had been kept out of mainstream news articles and features, but he’d followed the blog of one of the gym members at Fight Club who was speculating on Alika’s beating and the case against him.

  The Ghost suspected Alika and Sophie were dating, though he hadn’t been able to confirm it. He didn’t like having competition for her, but he wasn’t going to exploit his superior position against someone who didn’t deserve it. For now, it appeared Alika wasn’t in need of anything but the hospital.

  He hunched forward over his keyboard, nimble fingers flying.

  Sophie drove to Queen’s Hospital and entered the cool underground garage the next morning. “You should be okay here for a half hour or so,” she told Ginger, cracking the windows and filling the water bowl on the back seat. She locked the car and glanced around in the dim acres of parked cars, wondering if there was a security guard she could ask to keep an eye on her dog. Parking garages were not safe environments, and she hated to leave Ginger. But the place was deserted, echoing with the sounds of faraway traffic and smelling of gas and rubber.

  She’d put on her spare weapon. It was a comforting weight in its holster under her left armpit beneath the lightweight FBI-gray jacket. In the elevator, on the way up to Alika’s floor, she rehearsed what she’d say, how she’d explain to him who she was. There hadn’t been an opportunity for that last night.

  She was met at the door of Alika’s room by Lehua Wolcott, looking radiant in a short fitted muumuu, glossy hair wound into a roll pierced by koa chopsticks, brown eyes sparkling.

  “He’s much better today.” She hugged Sophie’s stiff body. “He remembered us! Remembered his name, remembered he grew up on Kauai. Just can’t remember anything about the attack.” Distress puckered her face. “I told him that you saved him. I’ll give you two some privacy. Maybe when you talk, it will help.”

  The officer was back at the door, Sophie was relieved to see. He gave her a little salute of recognition. “I’m not leaving no matter who calls me.” He was wearing Kevlar over his uniform.

  “Good.” She followed Lehua into Alika’s room.

  “Son, this is Sophie. I hope you remember her,” Lehua said. Alika was sitting upright this time, wearing a buttoned aloha shirt over his bandaged chest. It gave him a look as if any minute he’d get up and walk out, but the casted leg, back in traction, gave lie to that.

  “I remember Sophie,” Alika said impatiently. “Thanks, Mom. Give us some space, will you?”

  Lehua rolled her eyes at Sophie, still smiling. Sophie could tell that she was so happy to have Alika awake she didn’t care that he seemed irritable. She shut the door gently behind her.

  “Hello.” Sophie approached, sat in a plastic chair beside his bed, still tentative even though he’d said he remembered her. How much did he remember?

  “Hi.” He studied her intently. “What’s with the bruises? Did you get those during the attack yesterday?” Alika’s voice was so clear, so familiar and energetic that she smiled, and winced again, touching her sore lip.

  “No. Had a bout with The Breaker at Fight Club before I came to visit you yesterday.”

  “Hell no, you didn’t! Man’s got a fist like a hammer!”

  Sophie smiled, her lip cracking at this evidence that he remembered more recent events. “I probably shouldn’t have taken him on, but I was in a mood. I made him work for it. Six rounds with a woman. I suspect it is some kind of record, somewhere.”

  “That’s my girl.” His familiar grin brought up the less-swollen side of his face. He remembered—if not their date, at least that he was her coach.

  She reached out a hand and touched his arm lightly, that tattooed spot she’d made friends with. “I’m glad I was here yesterday.”

  “Me too.” His good hand, bandaged, but at least not in a cast, came to pat he
rs briefly where it rested on his arm. “I have to go back to Kauai for awhile. Do rehab and physical therapy. Can you help out at the gym for me? Maybe run things in the evenings?”

  She glanced up into his golden-brown eyes, looked away again. “Sure. You’re going to hire a manager, then?”

  “I have to. Don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.” He coughed, and his whole body constricted around the obvious pain. Sophie weathered it with him and he finally went on. “My dad is going to stay back and try to get things set up at the gym and my business for me, but HPD wants my parents to get me out of here as soon as I’m safe to transport. For my safety, and they want their man back. They’re thinking tomorrow.”

  “That’s soon.” Sophie felt her face settling into that expression that hid her emotions. “Of course I’ll help in the evenings at the gym. I go there anyway.”

  Did he remember their date, their emerging feelings? There was no indication of anything but the collegial friendship they’d had before in his face or demeanor. This was her opportunity to cut their connection—for his safety, and for hers. Until she knew Assan wasn’t part of the equation. She drew in a quick breath and steeled herself.

  “This is awkward. I get the feeling your mom might have said the wrong thing about what we were to each other. We were friends. You trained me, and I recently graduated from having you coach me. And we went on one date. We were…” Sophie fumbled for the right words. “We were exploring if we might be more than friends. But it was just one date.”

  “I remember everything about it. We both know it was a lot more than just one date.” Alika’s golden brown eyes were intense as he looked at her. “But I don’t want to drag you into this situation. So for now we’re just friends, and I don’t expect you to wait for me, for all the time it’s going to take for me to heal. For things to be different for me on Oahu. For someday.”

  Sophie let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.