Fire Dancer

by Linsey Lanier

  Of course, Ryo couldn’t order his sergeant to let Miranda go. Not without a shred of proof on Jonathan. Damn.

  “Do you need the name of a local attorney?” Ryo asked softly.

  Parker wiped a hand over his face. “I’m going to try Estavez first. I’ll call you back if I need to.”

  “Please do. I’m so sorry, Parker. I wish there were more I could do for her.”

  “It’s all right, Ryo. Thank you for what you have done.” He hung up and sat there, his mind reeling. Then he shook himself out of it. He got to his feet and dialed Antonio’s number. The best criminal defense lawyer in Atlanta ought to be able to think of something.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when Antonio picked up. “Hello, son. Are you in the office?”

  There was a pause. He knew Antonio would be surprised to hear from him. “I am,” he said in his Hispanic accent. “I just got back from an early lunch with a client. You aren’t back in town, are you, Papa?”

  “I’m still in Maui.” He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Son, I need an attorney.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Miranda. She’s been arrested.”

  “Again?”

  She did have a habit of getting herself into trouble, but this wasn’t her fault. “This time, it’s serious.”

  “It was serious last time.”

  Parker ignored the comment. “There’s been a local murder. I’ll explain the details when I get home.” When that would be was anyone’s guess. “Do you know an attorney in Maui? Someone good?”

  He was surprised when Antonio didn’t pause to consult his Rolodex. “I do. Zabel Garcia. We dated back in law school. She took a job in California after graduation, but she moved back home to Maui a couple years ago. Her father owns a coffee farm there.”

  “Is she good?”

  Antonio uttered a smug laugh. “She almost beat me for the first slot in our graduating class. She has an excellent win record as well. I’ll be glad to give her a call.”

  Parker exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank you, son.”

  He disconnected, sank back down onto one of the chairs and waited for what seemed like years. He was vacantly staring at a photo of a surfer on the cover of a magazine when his phone rang again. “Wade Parker.”

  “Mr. Parker, this is Zabel Garcia. Antonio Estavez asked me to call you?” She had a lovely, confident voice that made Parker breathe easier.

  He glanced at his watch. It had only been fifteen minutes. “Yes, Ms. Garcia. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. My wife needs a defense attorney. She’s being held on drug possession charges and a possible murder.” Briefly he explained a few of the pertinent details.

  “Where is she being held?”

  “In the Lahaina police station. I’m in the waiting room. She’s been allowed a visit with her representation before she’s booked. Can you help?”

  “I’ll have to look at the case, but I can talk to her.”

  The twisted knot in his stomach began to loosen a bit. “How soon can you get here?”

  “I’m on the other side of West Maui. Give me an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The funky beat of Cho’s rap tune ring tone woke him. Irritated, he opened his eyes and reached for his cell. “What is it?”

  “Hey, Bro. Wazzup?”

  “I’m not up,” he growled, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. Not even eight yet. He’d been awake half the night coming up with a plan for Parker and his frizzy-headed lady. It still had too many holes in it. “You know I told you never to call this early.”

  “Chill out, man. I got something to say.” His words were slurred. Fucking douchebag was high again. He’d better not ask for money.

  “Make it fast.”

  “Sure, sure. I was like, out fishing early this morning, you know.” The idiot sounded nervous. He should be.

  “Of course, you were.” Cho was supposed to guard the sea cave during the early hours when the tide was low.

  “Yeah, well anyway,” Cho whined. “I was drifting along and I see a boat heading toward the stash spot.”

  He tensed. “What?”

  “So I move in a little closer, watch them through my binoculars. It was Parker and his bitch.”

  He dug a hand into his scalp. “What are you talking about?”

  “They went into the cave.”

  He sat up on the bed. “What?”

  “I waited for a while. You know, to see what would happen? And pretty soon…oh, man. Pretty soon a cop boat comes by.”

  His breath turned solid in his lungs. “The cops? Did you call them, Cho?”

  “No, man. I wouldn’t do that. Why would I do that? Some jerk on the water must have called them. There’s always some goodie-goodie out there. Must have thought Parker and his bitch were lost in the cave or something.”

  Okay, okay. That didn’t mean anything. “What did the cops do?”

  “Th—they went in.” Cho sounded like his teeth were chattering. If he were here, he’d knock them down his throat. He was sick of this pussying around.

  “Dammit, Cho. Spit it out.”

  He could have sworn he heard the coward whimper. “Bad news, man. They got the stash.”

  He shot to his feet. “The cops got our stash?”

  “I—I kept watching and after a little bit the police boat came out again. They were carrying boxes. One by one. I counted them. Five, man. Oh, man they took everything.”

  He paced to his desk, leaned on it. He felt numb. Sick. His whole body throbbed. His brain pounded in his skull like he was on a bad acid trip.

  Everything? The fucking cops had everything? Emotions tore through him. Everything gone? Rage pulsated through every muscle. He picked up a chair ready to smash it against the wall. He would kill that fucking Wade Parker. Kill him with his own two fucking hands.

  Cho’s voice was in his ear again. “But there’s a bright spot.”

  Slowly, he strolled to the end of his bed and put the chair down. Maybe he’d kill Cho first. “What bright spot?” he sneered.

  “They had Parker and his bitch in handcuffs.”

  Suddenly dizzy, he steadied himself with the chair. “What did you just say?”

  “Handcuffs, man. Parker and his wifey.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t tripping?”

  “Course not. No lie. The cops arrested Parker and his woman.”

  “What are you on, Cho?”

  “Nothing, man. The dumb pigs must’ve thought the stash was theirs.” He dared to squeak out a laugh.

  He stood there, frozen. It was Fate again. Twisting things his way.

  “You still there, man?” Cho squeaked. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Don’t you do anything,” he barked. “Don’t you do a fucking thing. Until you hear from me…just…just lay low.”

  “Yeah, man. Good idea. I can do that.”

  He hung up, tossed the cell on the bed. Wade Parker arrested? And that nosy wife of his, too?

  The anger dissolved into a joy so sweet it was painful. He let go of the chair and sank onto the bed. He began to laugh. He giggled. He cackled. He laughed until the tears came.

  Wade Parker arrested.

  Then his laughter stopped. Those charges wouldn’t last. Parker knew the cops. He was connected. He’d be out in a heartbeat. Might be out already. And then the cops would start looking for him. How much did that sonofabitch PI know? What did he tell the pigs?

  He couldn’t take any chances. He had to get out of here.

  He’d saved back two bags of blow in case of an emergency like this. He could get to Oahu, sell the dope on the street and get enough for a ticket to New Zealand. He’d get lost in a city like Auckland. They’d never find him.

  Hurrying to the closet, he grabbed a backpack and started stuffing clothes in it.

  But what about Parker?

  He thought about the sea cave. He thought abo
ut his stash. The rage began to pulse again but his head was clear. An idea came to him. The cops had to break open the locks on the boxes they confiscated. They saw what was in them. Why else would they make an arrest? That meant most of the chains would probably still be there.

  A smile spread across his face. Yes, that would work. That was it.

  He glared at his alarm clock. It would take a couple of hours for the timing to be right.

  Could he risk waiting?

  If he didn’t, he’d have the ghost of Wade Parker haunting him the rest of his life. He couldn’t live with that, no matter what it might cost him. Even if the cops caught him before he could get away, it would be worth it to know he’d paid Parker back for what he’d done to his family.

  The satisfaction of giving Parker a horrible death was worth jail time. He’d do it.

  He pulled on a fishnet shirt and the tight-fitting pants that showed off his muscles. In the bathroom, he slapped some gel on his black hair and ran a comb through it. Returning to his bed, he zipped up his backpack, reached for his phone and stuffed it into his pocket.

  Time to get busy. He had work to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Parker sat in the Lahaina police station waiting room staring at his cell phone. There was one more call he could make before the attorney arrived. If Edward Steele could get his son to make a statement about Jonathan Ha’aheo, Balondo would have no cause to hold Miranda.

  Two days ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to make that call. But now?

  Miranda was innocent. Any decent lawyer could get Balondo’s flimsy charges dropped. Would it be worth it to contact her father when he knew perfectly well she wanted nothing to do with him?

  What would that do to their relationship?

  Before he could decide, the door opened and a tall, well-dressed woman in her early thirties stepped into the room.

  She took one look at him and moved toward him, hand extended. “Wade Parker? I’m Zabel Garcia.”

  He shot to his feet. “Ms. Garcia, thank you so much for coming.”

  A striking woman, she smiled warmly with a well-formed mouth as she shook his hand. Her dark, auburn hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon and she wore a lightweight double-breasted herringbone suit of pale gray. Her expensive briefcase and attire would have marked her as a professional, if her demeanor hadn’t done the job all by itself.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” she said. “Is your wife still here?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll get the details of the case from her.”

  “Not at all.”

  He watched her stride with confidence over to the reception desk, hand the clerk her card and address him in a crisp, businesslike tone. “I believe you’re holding a Ms. Miranda Steele here? You may have her listed as Mrs. Parker.”

  The clerk eyed the card, then the woman. “Maybe.”

  “She’s my client. I’d like to see her as soon as possible.” Her tone wasn’t demanding, yet it subtly implied he didn’t want to find out what might happen if he failed to comply with her request.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The clerk sat up straight, dialed a number and muttered into his phone. After only a moment he hung up. “Sergeant Balondo will have someone take you to her right away.”

  “Thank you.”

  It only took about thirty seconds for the side door to the hall to open and an officer to appear. “Ms. Garcia.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please come with me.”

  And the young woman disappeared into the hall.

  Hope rose in Parker’s heart as he sat back down. Antonio was right. She was good. This shouldn’t take long at all.

  ###

  Miranda plodded back and forth in the little holding room they had stashed her in, frustration eating a hole in her duodenum. What would Jonathan Ha’aheo do when he found his stolen goods and drugs gone? Would he kill again? She was certain that sea cave was connected to Keola’s murder, but she couldn’t prove squat.

  Dammit.

  She came to a halt at the wall, ran her hand over the beige painted cinder blocks. They reminded her of the first time she met Parker. She’d been arrested and had been locked up in a Fulton County cell in Atlanta.

  And she’d thought she’d come so far since then.

  Parker. She remembered the way he looked that night, all dressed up in that silly tuxedo. His satin vest and wingtip collar, his expensive leather shoes. That well-formed physique beneath the cut of his elegant clothes. The stray wisps of his salt-and-pepper hair falling flirtatiously over his forehead. Those piercing, gray eyes that could see right through her.

  She smiled, in spite of herself. If only things could have worked out between them. But it wasn’t possible. Not for the long term.

  She really had come a long way since her arrest in Atlanta, thanks to Parker. He’d gotten her out of jail, even after she’d told him to go to hell. He’d hired her as an investigator at his Agency and trained her. She had a whole gamut of PI skills under her belt now.

  And she knew the law better. Because she did, as soon as that attorney got here, she’d have Balondo’s balls in a sling.

  “Mrs. Parker?” The cell door jangled open and an officer Miranda didn’t recognize appeared. “Your lawyer’s here to see you. Come with me.”

  That was fast. She got to her feet and followed him back down the hall to the interrogation room she’d been in before. Inside a woman was waiting for her.

  She held out her hand as soon as Miranda entered. “Mrs. Parker, I’m Zabel Garcia. Your husband contacted me.”

  Miranda waited for the officer to leave the room and close the door before she turned to the woman with a raised brow. “He did?”

  “I’m a friend of Antonio Estavez.”

  “I see.” Miranda eyed the woman. Pretty. Auburn hair swept back in a no-nonsense style, expensive-looking heels and a matching light gray suit, a simple strand of pearls around her neck. Parker’s surrogate son always had good taste in women.

  And she’d thought Antonio wouldn’t be able to do anything. She should have known better. Should have known Parker wouldn’t sit idle while she was being held. Miranda didn’t know whether that made her happy or uncomfortable, but for now she’d go with it.

  “I spoke to the sergeant just now. He told me he’s going to book you on charges of drug possession and accessory to a murder.”

  “Accessory, huh?” That was the best Balondo could come up with?

  Ms. Garcia opened her briefcase and pulled out a legal pad and pen. “Why don’t you tell me your side of the story.”

  Miranda pulled out a chair, sat down and went over it all again while her new attorney took notes.

  When she finished, Ms. Garcia, who Miranda was calling Zabel by now, sat back and studied her pad. “Balondo’s case isn’t very strong. Evidence is circumstantial at best.”

  “I know. But it’s strong enough for now.”

  She tapped her pen against her pad. “You mentioned a lead on this Jonathan Ha’aheo?”

  “Keola Hakumele’s younger brother. His father thinks he’s involved in a gang. They call themselves Huaka’i Po.”

  Zabel nodded. “The Night Marchers. I’ve heard of them. They named themselves after that old island legend. That is a good lead. And Balondo didn’t buy it?”

  Miranda studied the calm expression on her attorney’s face. She looked into her steady, dark brown eyes. They say you should always come clean with your lawyer. Besides, this woman was no idiot. “I should tell you…”

  “What is it, Miranda?”

  Miranda drew a circle on the tabletop with her finger. “Keola’s father is…my father, too.”

  The lawyer almost gasped. That tidbit sure rattled her composure. “I’m sorry.”

  No choice but to spit it out. What did she have to lose now, anyway? “My father abandoned my mother and me when I was five years old. I had no idea he was here until I saunte
red into his tiki bar yesterday during my investigation.” She snorted wryly. Why of all the tiki bars in all the towns, in all the world, did she have to walk into his? “It just so happens he’s my father.”

  “And so the murder victim is your…half brother?”

  Miranda raised her hands. “I had no idea about that when I found the body.”

  Zabel dropped her pen and sat back. “So that’s why Balondo’s holding you.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  Zabel stared at the notes on her legal pad. The wheels in her head seemed to be turning. After a moment, she picked up her pen, tapped it against the paper. “What’s the name of the bar?”

  “Coconut Rum. The owner, my father, goes by the name Pumehana.”

  She sat back, surprise on her face. “I know that place. And the owner. I always thought he was a fun guy.”

  “Oh, he’s a lot of fun all right. If he’s around.”

  Zabel got to her feet and pulled out her cell. “Let me see if I can make a phone call. Excuse me a moment.” Before Miranda could answer, she stepped outside the door.

  What was she going to do? Call good old Pumehana? Yeah, he’d come running right over here to her rescue, all right. She hoped her new lawyer could come up with a better idea than that.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Parker paced from the potted palm in one corner of the waiting room to the potted eucalyptus tree in the other corner yet again. By now he thought he could count the fronds on each bough.

  He glanced at his watch. Quarter of ten. How long did it take to get some trumped up murder charges dropped? Perhaps Ms. Garcia wasn’t as good as she appeared to be. Perhaps Antonio’s memory had been overshadowed with old affections. Perhaps the situation was worse than he thought.

  Once more he stared at his cell phone and considered calling Edward Steele.