by Toby Neal
“G’day!” Connor’s voice was irritatingly cheerful, as she’d known it would be. Sophie leaned over, tightening the laces of her running shoes. The smell of rain was a metallic tease on the air, along with a faint mustiness from the thick pili grass surrounding the off-limits trail area, clearly marked NO TRESPASSING. “I thought of a perk to your leaving the FBI—you’re just a regular citizen now, if we get popped for trespassing.” He pointed to the sign, smiling.
Connor had dressed for movement in running shorts and a mesh shirt that showed off a near-perfect physique. None of it did a thing for Sophie. He was as annoying as Jake Dunn, and the ragged bits of nightmare still clouded her vision.
She wasn’t in the mood to pretend this morning. The only way she could handle being with him during the hike was to shut him up. Her days of being a quiet, compliant woman were over, and if that left her alone, there were worse things.
“Listen, Connor. I’m only here because I think a run out in nature might be good for me right now. So I’ll take the lead. Not in the mood to chat.” Sophie slipped into a thin nylon daypack holding water for her and Ginger. “Let’s go.”
Connor’s face went still. He gave a stiff nod and tweaked Anubis’s leash. Sophie jumped Ginger over the large cement blocks beside the gate that supposedly kept hikers out, and hit the ground running.
The Catwalk was not a strenuous hike, fairly flat although winding through long, choking grass. At one point they had to crawl through a hole in the fence to run along a closed-off road. Sophie didn’t begin to feel a slight loosening of the darkness on her mind until they crested a rise, and the soaring view of the ocean from thousands of feet up on the ridge broke into her view. She stopped to take it in, hands on her hips. Connor came to stand beside her but said nothing.
Whatever pique he might have initially felt at her brusque words seemed to have gone, and frankly, she didn’t much care. They continued on in silence, and the famous tongue of concrete known as Dead Man’s Catwalk came too soon.
Why was she here on this hike? With him?
Because he’d asked her on the hike, and she needed to get out, interact, exercise—even if that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Because she felt a mild tingle of attraction to him now and again—objectively, he was a very attractive man—and because he was a connection to Sheldon Hamilton.
But the Ghost, Sheldon, was who she really wanted to have a connection with.
Sophie dropped Ginger’s leash at their destination. She took off her pack and poured water into a portable bowl for Ginger, who flopped in a bit of shade under the long grass around the area as Connor did the same for Anubis. Sophie removed her own water bottle and walked out onto the end of the cement tongue, the stunning backdrop of thousands of social media posts and selfies. She sat on the end, her legs dangling into the vastness of space overlooking a multi-hued sea far below. Connor joined her there, and mercifully, still didn’t speak.
Sophie let the vista, a grand swath of wild blue ocean, turquoise reefs, and steep green cliffs, fill and calm her mind with beauty.
When would she accept her lot in life and not let it get her down? She had done all she could to better her situation. She’d grown up with a clinically depressed mother and a loving but distant diplomat father. She’d had an early and disastrous marriage to a sadistic businessman. She’d had a brief but solid career in the FBI.
Her goal, to hunt down those who would harm others, remained unchanged. Even though she’d had to leave the FBI, she was still hunting perpetrators—just in another way.
A way with fewer restrictions.
A way that had some room to color outside the lines.
She’d win this fight with the FBI over DAVID. And if she didn’t, she’d just build an even better program.
No one could keep her down. Not even Assan Ang.
Sophie turned her head to look at Connor. He didn’t meet her eyes—his gaze was on the far horizon. He had a face like a profile on a coin, timeless and handsome. She liked the sun on his tanned, muscular shoulders. She liked his silence.
“Sorry I’m so negative.”
“Nothing to do with work, I hope?” His glance was reserved. His eyes were more turquoise than blue.
“No. Other things. Personal things.” Sophie shut her eyes a moment, enjoying the swish of the breeze, soaring up from the sea to dry the sweat from her body.
“Anything I can help with?”
“Afraid not. But I really like working for Security Solutions. You’re doing a good thing, with the company. We can help people law enforcement cannot, and I like that.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Do you ever—have contact with Sheldon?” Sophie couldn’t resist asking about the Ghost.
Connor raised his brows in surprise. “You know I do. Why?”
“I just…wonder how he’s doing.” She gestured to Anubis, sitting sphinxlike beside Ginger at the base of the concrete ledge. “He must miss his dog.”
“Yeah, he does.” Connor looked back at Anubis too. “But Sheldon seems happy enough. He’s chasing new endeavors.”
“Like what? Women?” She turned to gaze at the lines of white foam marking wave action over the reef far below.
“I’m sure there’s some of that,” Connor said slowly. “But Sheldon’s a loner, for the most part. I, on the other hand, enjoy female company. Even the negative kind.”
Sophie smiled at him. “Thanks for not talking. I’m working with Jake Dunn, and that man never shuts up.”
Connor laughed. “Jake’s like a rubber ball. You can’t keep him down and he’s liable to bounce in any direction.”
“We’re figuring out how to work together. It’s an adjustment for both of us.”
“Well. I just thought I’d tell you—people care. If you’re going through a hard time, sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
Sophie glanced at him. He was looking away at the horizon. Was he offering friendship? A shoulder to cry on? Connor sounded sincere with his offer, but she couldn’t talk to him. She had Marcella and Lei, and she wasn’t sure she needed any more friends. Friends were a lot of work and often confusing—and in fact, Connor’s behavior was a little confusing, too. She could tell he was attracted to her, but he’d never made a move or asked her out besides these runs. She wasn’t sure how she’d react if he did.
“Thanks, but sometimes it’s just better to keep quiet and wait until things get better.” Sophie stood, walked back to the dogs and prodded Ginger, sprawled and panting, with her toe. “Let’s take the long way back. I need more exercise.” What she needed was more endorphins to fight the depression.
They took the abandoned road back, which led for miles through a residential area. Sophie enjoyed Connor’s silent company. The sound of their shoes on the pavement became a metronome that both soothed and energized her—and slowly, slowly, it pushed the darkness away. By the time they reached the cars again, Sophie felt better—almost back to normal. She’d be able to deal with the call with her lawyer more positively now.
“Thanks for the exercise.” Sophie unlocked the battered Ford.
Connor quirked a brow at her. “What happened to your Lexus?”
“In the shop.” She’d come up with a better story eventually. She put on Mary Watson’s floppy hat.
Connor’s brows rose further. “New look for you.” Sophie filled Ginger’s water bowl, and as the dog lapped, he went on. “Do this again next week? I was thinking maybe really push ourselves and try the Stairway to Heaven.”
She looked up at him with a smile—another famous, illegal hike with stunning views. “Sounds excellent. I’ve been wanting to do that one for a while.”
Connor stepped a little closer as Ginger hopped up into the truck and over to the passenger seat. “I wanted to say something about Sheldon. There are people looking for him. In Hong Kong, and elsewhere. Because of his—activities. He might not ever be able to return to this country or live a normal life.”
Connor knew that Sheldon was the Ghost! Sophie’s eyes widened. “I’m aware of his situation. Why are you saying this to me?”
“I know you want to meet him. But—you shouldn’t count on it ever happening.”
Sophie thought of their online chat. The Ghost had said he wanted to meet her “in real life.” She had no doubt he could do that whenever he wanted to, in spite of being off the grid.
“I don’t expect to meet him unless he finds me. If he can find me.” She got into her truck, slammed the door, and rolled down the window to look into Connor’s changeable eyes. “You think I’m still hunting him, and it’s only fair to tell you that I am. But I don’t know if I have an interest in turning him in, anymore.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“No need. I can tell him myself.” Sophie turned on the truck, and drove away. In the rearview mirror Connor was staring after her, a diminishing shape, the sharp angles and still points of Anubis at his side.
That night, Sophie’s phone pinged with an incoming message to the account she used to communicate with the Ghost. Already lying in bed on her blow-up mattress, she couldn’t resist picking up her phone and opening the email.
She gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand.
The Ghost was naked in a series of black-and-white photos.
In the first one he hung, arms extended, legs crossed at the ankle, from a pull-up bar. In the next photo, he was halfway to the top, the muscles of his back standing out in stark relief, the wide V of his musculature ending in a pale, chiseled butt. In the third he’d reached the top, his chin over the bar. His legs extended down, the muscles of his shoulders and back tightly contracted in a pleasing topography. In the fourth, he’d lifted himself high above the bar on straight arms, and the line from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet was breathtaking.
Sophie scanned the photos for clues—or so she told herself, as she brought the phone closer to her eyes, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. He was so beautiful.
The Ghost must have put the camera on a timer. The background was pale gray in the photo, likely a white wall. The ceiling of the photo’s setting, his private gym perhaps, was high enough to allow a wide range of motion—the steel rack of the bar had to be ten feet off the ground to allow the full extension of his body. Height was hard to judge with nothing to go by. Hair was dark and cut short, as Sheldon Hamilton’s was from previous photos she’d seen of him.
But was it really the Ghost? Who was this man?
No way to know. She studied every detail she could find. The phone dinged with another incoming email.
“Just so you don’t feel alone in being seen naked.”
Sophie typed a reply with her thumbs. “Yes, you do appear to take your fitness seriously. If that’s you in the photos.”
It was hard not to say more—something about how incredible his body was, to begin with. But she had an agenda—and it was to lure him out of the shadows. Not that she knew what she planned to do with him once she’d caught him.
“You damn me with faint praise, woman.”
“So you thought I’d be impressed? Okay, I am. A little. But mostly, wondering where all this is going, why you’re doing this.” Sophie bit her lip, sucking on that old bruise.
“I enjoy this game we play. I enjoy a worthy adversary who’s on the same team.”
“I’m not on your team. I’m still trying to catch you. That’s where this is going for me.” Sophie tried to calm her rapid breathing. “I spent time with Remarkian today. Told him what I’d tell you…that I still want to capture you. But now I’m not sure what I want to do with you when that happens. I’m no longer an agent, and we already established that proving a case against you would be near impossible. So I don’t know where to go from here.”
He must have been typing at the same time because her phone dinged with his reply. “You’re trying to do good in whatever role you’re in. I’m doing the same. I don’t want to be your enemy. I want to be more than a friend.”
Sophie stroked the glowing surface of the phone with her thumb. More than a friend. Clearly she wasn’t the only one attracted. There was no reason for him to keep pursuing her otherwise. She was dangerous to him.
He must have read her reply because another email arrived. “You don’t have to know where to go from here. You’ll meet me when the time is right.”
Sophie looked around the barren room, the heavy curtains blacking out the light, the only sound the soothing whuff of Ginger’s breathing on the floor beside her. She didn’t like that he thought he was in control.
“You might find that difficult. I’m no longer at my former address,” Sophie typed, and turned off the phone.
She was off the grid, and now she was glad she was. She wanted to be the one in control of where and when she finally met the Ghost.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Mary Watson’ held the floppy straw hat on with one hand so that the slight breeze at the Hilo airport would not tug it off of her head. She smiled at the other young women climbing into a large white passenger van headed for the Waipio Valley. The light rayon sundress she wore swirled around her legs as she settled beside another woman in the backseat.
“So excited to finally see the compound at Waipio,” Sophie said. “Have you been there before?”
“No, this is my first time, too.” The woman next to her was a pretty blonde. She tugged at her tight yoga pants and smoothed her tunic top. “Have you met Sandoval Jackson yet?”
“I have heard him speak. Mesmerizing,” Sophie said. He did speak well on the YouTube videos she’d watched. “We’re so lucky to be able to get on the list for this retreat.”
The van got underway and in a very short time they were traveling along the verdant countryside of the east shore of the Big Island out of Hilo. They passed gigantic albizia trees draped in vines, great stands of hapu`u ferns, and tall waving patches of long pili grass framing glimpses of a distant blue ocean.
The driver of the van was a young mixed Hawaiian with long hair in a ponytail and the orange clothing that Sophie recognized from her recon of the compound earlier. The hour-long drive took them through the broad grassy pasturelands of Waimea and beyond. The steep walls of spectacular Waipio Valley opened before them as the van rounded a bend.
This was the first time Sophie had entered the valley by car, and the one-lane precipitous access road carved in the cliff was intimidating from her wedged-in seat in the back of the van. Off to the right she could see the broad sweep of the bay at the mouth, the valley’s river flowing into the ocean with the reddish-brown of runoff rainwater.
Finally reaching the valley floor they were met by small farms, lush with outsized banana and papaya trees, wandering loose horses, and sweeps of water-filled taro patches.
It seemed to take forever for the van to navigate the potholed, narrow dirt road with the obstacles of loose chickens, dogs, and mud puddles, but further back in the valley, where no one else was around, the road was better maintained. Sophie leaned her chin on her hand, watching the field she’d run through with a child holding her hand pass by.
Things certainly looked different in the light of day.
The doors of the compound were open to meet them when they arrived. Far from the fortified, forbidding aspect the compound had presented during her mission, today it looked welcoming and beautiful.
The children, dressed in orange dresses, T-shirts or shorts, ran up to greet them as the van pulled up. They greeted the retreat participants by draping fresh plumeria lei over their heads as they exited the vehicle. The oldest boy, who looked around thirteen, showed the eight women to their own spacious yurt. Inside, a series of four bunk beds formed corners in the round tent. In the center of the floor, a carpet patterned like a mandala gave the room a spacious, unified feel.
Sophie claimed a bottom bunk and her blonde companion, the top. She introduced herself. “I’m Mary Watson. And you are?”
“G
illie. Short for Gillian. Gillie Johnson.”
“Have you been part of the Society of Light for long?”
“Just checking it out, actually. Looking to make some lifestyle changes.” Gillie had the nervous energy and build of a whippet, and the skulls and rock band tattoos on her arms told a story of hard partying.
The boy returned. “What’s your name?” Sophie asked.
“Zeus.” He had large brown eyes, freckled skin, and a friendly smile. “I’m your guide. I’ll take you to the yoga studio if you’re ready.”
They were, so Zeus led them to a large studio that was its own yurt. Spacious and inviting, shining floors reflected light from a pale cream roof. The familiar tools of yoga were piled in neat stacks against the walls. Folded blankets, foam blocks, webbing straps, and a large basket of silky, scented eye pillows all gave Sophie a reassuring sense of familiarity in spite of her mission.
The evening progressed in a straightforward manner with a yoga class, a group dinner in the dining room, and finally, a lecture from Sandoval Jackson in the yoga studio.
Jackson arrived draped in a wrapped orange loincloth worn with an embroidered tunic. From a distance, during their surveillance, it had been hard to see what he was like, and Sophie’s research photos hadn’t shown much more than an orange-draped figure. Up close, Jackson was lean and muscular, a young-looking sixty even with his flowing silver beard. He exuded a powerful calm that Sophie found herself responding to in spite of her feelings about the children, the Society, and what might lay in the garden.
Clearly the man had charisma.
Sophie chose a purple flax-filled pillow, and sat on it in a half-circle with the other participants around Jackson’s place on a small raised dais. The residents of the compound filled in the area behind them, and the room settled into stillness as Jackson raised his hands.
“Close your eyes. Breathe.” A long pause as everyone did so. “Notice the breath entering and exiting your body. Notice your body—how it feels in this moment, taking up space and time. You are eternal. Made of star particles, returning and recycling in different forms, but for now you have this moment. It will never come again. Be in this moment. Take it as yours. Fully inhabit it. And then let it go so the next can take its place.”