Paradise Crime Series Box Set

by Toby Neal

  This place, this way of working, this team were all so new and different. She wasn’t used to so much ad-libbing, to so few procedural safeguards. Dunn had none of Waxman’s objectivity, Ken Yamada’s detached professionalism, nor even Marcella’s quick sophistication.

  Jake Dunn was competent, all right—but his style was raw and edgy, his modus operandi improvisational, his physicality intrusive.

  Bix reappeared and addressed Dunn. “Todd explained the situation. He apologized but also told me he informed you of the chain of command.”

  “I guess he did, Boss.” Dunn turned from the window with an unrepentant grin. “You gonna smack my wrist?”

  “We’ll talk later, Jake. In private.” Bix turned to Sophie with a deliberate smile. “Let’s start over. Hi, Ms. Ang. I’m Kendall Bix, VP of Operations. All ops come through me, and go through me. You come to me for planning, approval, budgeting, and quality assurance.”

  “Great to meet you.” Sophie stood, shaking his hand with a smile. “I’m happy to hear that you’re running a professional organization here, and it’s not just Dunn running around, playing commando.”

  “Hey!” Dunn threw himself into the chair next to Sophie, mock-pouting. His ebullient personality was one of the things she was coming to like about him—he never stayed down or angry for long. “We planned. We had a topo map and everything.”

  “Well, better late than never. Take me through all the steps of the op.” Bix sat and opened the laptop he’d carried in. “We need to log it and write it up for liability purposes. We might well be facing a lawsuit from that cult—if Sandoval Jackson is the children’s father, he’ll be justified in bringing one.”

  “Possession is nine-tenths of the law in child custody cases,” Dunn said. “Mother has them now, and he can try to get them back—but I doubt he will. Didn’t you see that happy reunion scene?”

  “I’m all about the professional objective. Did you get a deposit from the mother? You know our standard retrieval contract terms, and they aren’t cheap.”

  “Ah. No.” Dunn cleared his throat, displaying the first embarrassment Sophie had seen, a redness along his cheekbones. “She said she had rich relatives who would pay.”

  Bix gave Dunn a long stare. “You better hope she was telling the truth. Now, step-by-step. Take me through it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie made her strong Thai tea, and sat down in her home yoga corner the next morning. Cradling her mug, she called Marcella at her friend’s FBI office. “Got a minute? I want to catch you up on some things.”

  “I sure do. Let me just close the office door.” Sophie heard the sound of the door closing, the rattle of the door’s blind being lowered and rotated. “Waxman’s on a rampage since you left. He’s ordered a top to bottom self-audit of all our cases, and Internal Affairs is sniffing around. I suspect they are auditing every case you ever worked.”

  “What?” Sophie’s throat tightened. “Waxman’s looking for some wrongdoing? It wasn’t enough that he took DAVID?”

  “I don’t know what Waxman’s doing besides being in a total snit over you quitting. We’ve got a shit-ton of extra work, and IA is all over the place. If they’re looking into you, it spills onto all of us since you did tech work on virtually all of our cases. I think it’s something to do with DAVID.”

  “Monstrous offspring of a three-headed buffalo,” Sophie cursed. “Like it wasn’t enough for the Bureau to try to steal DAVID from me!”

  “Just thought I’d give you a heads-up. I don’t think the shit is done rolling your way. So what’re you calling to tell me? Besides that, you’re out of that dark bedroom, which I’m glad to hear.”

  Sophie filled her in on her first contract job for Security Solutions. “Jake Dunn is an interesting phenomenon.”

  “He sounds hot,” Marcella said. “Is he hot?”

  “Um. Yes. He is very physically attractive.” Sophie sipped her tea, seated herself in lotus position on the carpet in front of the floor-to-ceiling picture window that made her father’s penthouse her favorite place to watch the sky. “But I don’t like him like that. He’s my partner.”

  “I smell a rat. You are into him.”

  “No. He’s…kind of devastating in a way. You can’t ignore Jake Dunn. He’s bigger than life. And really very brave and competent. But a loose cannon. Not my style at all. I can’t imagine relaxing around him, and I don’t think he knows how to.”

  “Fun, though.” Marcella was sipping something too, probably one of her many daily cups of black coffee.

  “Fun, yes. And he likes to flirt.”

  “So I take it you’re going to accept the job.”

  “I’m seriously considering it.”

  “You should. The pay alone blows the Bureau out of the water. But how did it feel being on the other side of legal?”

  “Not good. I did not enjoy it at all. I felt guilty, and I still do. Especially about the children we left inside the cult.” Sophie filled in some more details. “It couldn’t have been more different from how the FBI would have gone about getting them out. Except the FBI decided it’s not a real case.” She heard the bitterness in her tone and modified it for her friend’s sake. “I never expected this, Marcella. I thought I would be in the FBI for the rest of my life.” Unexpected tears pricked her eyes and her throat closed. “I didn’t want to quit. But I couldn’t let them take DAVID from me.”

  “That damn computer program. It’s been as much a curse as a blessing to you!”

  “It’s a tool. Nothing more. But it’s a good tool, and I shouldn’t be punished for all I put into developing it.” Sophie’s resolve strengthened as she remembered the humiliation and frustration of the last couple of years as the FBI wrangled over what to do with her program. “I should go. I have to check in with my lawyer.”

  “Come to dinner with Marcus and me. This weekend?”

  “Maybe. I might be hike-running Dead Man’s Catwalk with Todd Remarkian.”

  “The head of Security Solutions?” Marcella whistled. “You didn’t tell me you guys were hanging out. Talk about hot!”

  “Remarkian is a friend,” Sophie said with dignity.

  “Those eyes, those abs—and that accent! Mmmm.” Marcella gave an exaggerated moan. “I’m betting he’d like to be more than a friend.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  “And Italian. I tell it like I see it.” Marcella ended the call.

  Sophie was still smiling as she went into her morning yoga routine—but she hadn’t been at it more than a half hour when the doorbell rang.

  Two agents showed at the peephole, holding up cred wallets. Her stomach dropped. She schooled her features into the compliant and neutral mask her ex had taught her with his fists. She opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Sophie Ang, I’m Special Agent Pillman and this is Special Agent Rapozo from FBI Internal Affairs. We have some questions for you regarding the use of your data mining program known as DAVID.”

  Sophie examined their cred wallets for form’s sake, but she recognized Pillman as the chilly-eyed agent who’d gone after her friend Lei Texeira on a case a few years ago. The man was a pit bull, relentless and cruel. That debilitating investigation had definitely had something to do with her friend leaving the FBI to return to local law enforcement on Maui. “I don’t believe you get to investigate me as I’m no longer with the FBI.”

  Pillman seemed prepared for this. “All federal officers are subject to examination before and after working for the Bureau. You should have read the fine print of the contract. Now, may we come in?”

  Sophie stood aside and they stepped into the shining foyer area. Pillman’s sharp eyes tracked the luxurious surroundings, and she felt his judgment as he turned to face her. Her heart thudded. “What is this regarding?”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions. Beginning with how you afford this penthouse.”

  “The apartment belongs to my father, Ambassador Smithson. Perhaps you’d like to
contact him in Washington for verification? He can be reached at the White House.” Sophie held Pillman’s gaze. She had done nothing wrong, and was not without resources. “What legal counsel am I entitled to?”

  “You may no longer use FBI union representation, of course, but you are free to employ private counsel.” Rapozo was a short, dark-complexioned man who reminded her of a pigeon, with a puffed-out chest and short, bandy legs that seemed to tip him forward.

  “You gentlemen have come far enough into my father’s apartment. I will be obtaining legal counsel for any further meetings.” Sophie stood tall and gripped the doorframe so tightly that it hurt. “Thank you for stopping by.”

  Pillman held his ground for a long moment, pale eyes scanning the apartment and returning to her, sweeping her body with a contemptuous stare that took in her cropped hair, exercise bra, and yoga pants—and stripped her naked. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “So be it.” Sophie closed the door softly behind them, to compensate for the urge to slam it. Ginger, who had been unusually quiet through the proceedings, padded up and leaned against Sophie’s leg, whining.

  “It’s okay, girl.” Sophie leaned her head on the door, stroking the dog’s ears and feeling a wave of panic sweep over her.

  She felt blind and cut off without DAVID, and she was under attack. Her enemies, and even the Ghost, knew where she lived, how to get to her.

  She had to get off the grid and figure out how to go on the offensive. She’d never be able to relax here now, knowing someone she needed to defend herself from could show up at the door anytime.

  The apartment that had been such a haven didn’t feel safe anymore.

  Sophie breathed through the panic, calming herself by making a quick mental list of tasks. She booted up her rigs with the key fob as she placed a series of calls and packed a bag.

  Chapter Nine

  The cash-only rental apartment had what Sophie needed: an internet cable already installed and a wheezing window air conditioner. It was a corner unit five floors up with good visibility from a sun-battered deck. Sophie wore a ball cap, sunglasses, and a white eyelet sundress, the furthest thing she could find in her limited wardrobe from her usual clothing.

  “I’ll take it.” Sophie handed an envelope of cash, enough for a deposit and three months’ rent, to the manager. The sun gleamed on the greasy strands of the man’s comb-over as he licked a thumb and counted the money.

  “Making sure you have the dog deposit in here,” he muttered.

  “Of course,” she said politely, Ginger’s leash tight in her hand, the bag over her shoulder heavy with computer gear. “What kind of security does the building have?”

  “What? You get sometin’ fo’ hide?” The man’s pidgin was thick as he looked up at her with beady brown eyes.

  “No. Just a woman alone. I have to make sure my home is safe.” Sophie smiled.

  The landlord thawed visibly, caterpillar brows bouncing. “Oh, you safe heah. I keep an eye on you.”

  “No, that’s fine. I just wondered if there was any—video surveillance? Alarm systems?” Sophie kept the smile pasted on though her cheeks ached.

  “What you need all that foah? Get gold in that bag?”

  “Ha ha. I’ll take my key now.” Sophie put out her hand and the man slapped the key into it, then clasped it between calloused, sweaty palms. “Don’t you worry ’bout nothing, pretty girl. I watch out for you.”

  Sophie pulled her hand away and wiped it on her skirt. “Thank you.”

  Sophie blew out a breath as she left, and tugged Ginger inside the apartment.

  There was no furniture, and the linoleum floor was stained. The walls had been so freshly painted that the place still reeked of it. A contact she’d met through the Bureau had provided her a new ID. Sophie still had to bring up her other bag, a duffel of clothing, from the beater white Ford truck she’d bought for cash and registered in the name she was using, Mary Watson. Her pearl-colored Lexus SUV was parked in a long-term rental lot, and her ID, credit cards, and everything else that identified her as Sophie Ang was now in the secret safe deposit box where she’d kept a copy of the DAVID software.

  She couldn’t wait to get DAVID set up again, but worried about detection without the elaborate firewalls she’d used at the FBI and her father’s apartment to screen the program’s location. She let go of the leash and Ginger quested about the barren space as Sophie headed for the rickety Formica table with a couple of metal-tubing chairs set up in the kitchen area.

  She opened her gear bag and plugged in the high-powered laptop that was the only thing she really cared about that she’d brought from the apartment. She booted it up and plugged in the small, square, boxy shape of the hard drive that held DAVID, and plugged in a second monitor—one screen was never enough.

  While the system was loading, she went out to the truck and retrieved her second bag and a metal toolbox. At the door, she installed a lock bar, a deadbolt, and a small surveillance camera over the door that fed remotely into her laptop.

  Security measures established, she set her hands on her hips. “Guess we need a few things to make this a home, Ginger.”

  Ginger wagged her tail in agreement.

  She’d left her regular cell phone in the safe deposit box with the battery unplugged…but she’d called everyone she wanted to have her number with the burner she’d purchased before she deactivated it.

  Now that phone buzzed and bounced on the table. She glanced at the contact and picked it up. “Hello, Jake Dunn.”

  “Why the change of number?” Dunn asked by way of greeting.

  “None of your business.” She wasn’t ready to disclose anything about her situation to him. “Got another job for me?”

  “Just the salaried offer Remarkian already made you. Was wondering when you’d be able to give us an answer.”

  Sophie blew out a breath. She didn’t want to commit yet—her life felt too upside down. “I need another week to think about it.”

  A long pause as Dunn breathed loudly through his nostrils in annoyance. “I want you as my partner and we have some other ops coming up. Remarkian said I could offer you a bonus from the first job.”

  “Oh really?” A bonus would come in handy. Sophie had savings, but executing her disappearance plan had cost a chunk of money. “I take it Sharon Blumfield came through with paying her bill?”

  “Yeah, she did. Thank God.” Dunn gave a theatrical sigh. “My ass would have been grass if she hadn’t. Now she wants us to investigate what happened to the other children’s mothers. Hilo PD already told her that without evidence of a crime, without a body, there’s no case. But she thinks the women were murdered. There were three others, besides her.”

  “I remember her saying that.” Sophie felt her interest quicken. This was a meaty case involving things that mattered to her. “So four women gave birth to ten children, total?”

  “Two of the women had three each, and one other besides our client had two.” Dunn sounded disgusted.

  “So what has Jackson’s response been to his children being taken from the compound?”

  “Nothing, as far as we can tell. Our client’s hiding out in a hotel with the kids. We have an operative on her, keeping an eye out, and she’s still working with our psychologist—but she’s leaving tomorrow to take the children to her family in Oregon, where she hopes they’ll be far enough away from Jackson that he will give up pursuing custody. So what’s it gonna be, Ang? Want to go back to the cult and dig up some evidence, spring the rest of the kids?”

  Sophie looked over at her laptop. It had been frustrating her to no end not to be able to use DAVID on the cult investigation. Now she could.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow.” She ended the call on Dunn’s whoop of triumph.

  Sophie took several hours to go to Target and buy the bare necessities, including more sundresses and a floppy-brimmed straw beach hat. Paying cash for her wagonload of purchases, including a blow-up mattress, she felt the claws of dep
ression reaching for her again.

  Going off the grid like this was paranoid. There was no real threat against her that justified it, and not going to Fight Club to work out had a price tag—she needed the endorphins to battle the depression.

  But she wanted to gain control of her life, and she couldn’t do it in her father’s place since the apartment had been breached and bugged in recent months. The Ghost, the man who’d done it, seemed positively inclined toward her—but he knew where she lived, he had surveilled her using video. And IA and the FBI were liable to pop in at any time and strip her computers.

  No. She had to do this. She could resume her real identity for work, and disappear into Mary Watson at the end of each day.

  She had to at least try this, and see if it helped.

  Sophie ate a simple meal of stir-fried tofu and veggies at the apartment and then took Ginger out for a run. She ran down the cracked sidewalk in the warm, exhaust-smelling Honolulu evening, Ginger trotting at her side. Inserting a Bluetooth into her ear and slipping her phone into her pocket, she called Marcella.

  “What’s with this new number?” Marcella asked.

  “Burner phone. I’m off the grid.” Sophie filled her friend in on the overview of the steps she’d taken. “I’m taking the job with Security Solutions. But I need to stay under the radar for a while.”

  “What are you hiding from? Anything IA does you’ll see coming from a mile away.”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t see it coming.” Sophie described the agents’ visit. “I felt really—ambushed, even though you alerted me.”

  “You just want to be able to use DAVID and not get busted.”

  Sophie smiled. “You know me so well. But I never agreed with that statement, for the record—if you’re ever called to testify against me.”