by Toby Neal
“I’ve been looking for a chance to sharpen my teeth on Chang. You can count on me.” Fernandez turned to Sophie, giving her his full, intense attention. “Come with me, my dear, and tell me everything that happened, so I can make sure you don’t tell that grandstanding poser anything more than strictly necessary.”
They left, and Marcella sat in the empty conference room. She took out her phone and thumbed through her contacts.
She knew a detective their mutual friend Lei Texeira had worked with on Kaua’i. Jack Jenkins was still assigned to the north side of the island; maybe he could get out there and investigate the sticky situation in Kalalau that involved not just Nakai, but a whole group of runaway teens. They needed a group foster home for all the boys to go to, and a sensitive investigation into what was really going on in that cave in one of the most remote valleys in all of Hawaii.
Chapter Forty
Sophie felt physically and emotionally better after talking with Fernandez and Marcella, her spirit lightened by unburdening herself, while at the same time anchored by the food her friend had wisely made her eat. She was also bolstered by the hugs her father had given her that morning as she said goodbye to him in the penthouse.
She could do this.
Sophie had nothing to be ashamed of. She would hold her head up, look the DA in the eye, and say as little as possible.
District Attorney Alan Chang was shorter than she expected, with a similar build to the rotund Bennie Fernandez. Watching the two face off was like watching a pair of small plump roosters kick up dust, preparing to fight in the servants’ courtyard of her family compound in Thailand.
“I believe you have been apprised of your rights regarding this proceeding and advised that anything you say here can be used against you in any future legal proceeding,” Chang said after the formalities had been observed.
Sophie inclined her head and he prompted her to verbalize her responses, reminding her of the transcription recording occurring.
“Let’s begin by discussing your relationship with your ex-husband.”
“Why don’t we stay focused on the events of the date in question, or we will be here all day,” Fernandez rebutted. “Keep your questions specific to information you need to verify.”
“I am trying to determine whether or not a murder was committed,” Chang said. “That means I have to determine intent. And I would like to know Ms. Ang’s intent toward her ex-husband, Assan Ang.”
“I can answer that. My intent was to get away from him, preserve myself from bodily harm, and carry on a peaceful life without his hostile presence and murderous attacks,” Sophie said. All of Chang’s features were concentrated in the middle of his face like a round, shiny emoticon caricature. “I’m sure you have read transcripts from the police report I made of the initial attack by hired professionals trying to kidnap me from Shank Miller’s estate on Maui.”
“Those transcripts provided some useful background, but that specific attack was never definitively linked to Assan Ang.”
“Do you know of any other murderous felons who escaped federal custody who might want to grab and kill me?” Sophie felt the back of her neck getting hot. She calmed herself consciously with relaxation breathing.
“We are not here to determine Assan Ang’s intention toward you. We are here to attempt to determine your intention toward him. So why don’t we begin again. Tell me why you broke into Paradise Treasures Gallery and the series of events that followed after you did. “
Sophie looked to Fernandez for direction, and the little lawyer inclined his head. “I had a clue tying Assan to the gallery that the FBI and Interpol were not privy to.” Speaking slowly and deliberately, Sophie described the series of events that had led to her final confrontation with her ex.
“And why was that original information—that clue you referred to—not turned over to the proper authorities?”
Sophie kept her voice even. “The information was something only I would know—a familiar bank login code. I did not trust the proper authorities, as you call them, to handle the situation with the delicacy it deserved.”
“And how delicate was damaging the locking mechanism for the building’s security, breaking into the building, and then confronting Mr. Ang in the apartment on the top floor?”
“Ms. Ang declines to answer this question, pleading her Fifth Amendment rights,” Bennie Fernandez inserted smoothly. “She has already admitted to breaking and entering and trespassing on private property, and no charges are being pressed against her.” Fernandez reached inside his jacket and produced an envelope. “This contains a letter of apology and a check made out to Paradise Treasures and Maggie Kennedy, the owner, for damages.”
Sophie had signed the letter and check, already filled out from Fernandez & Associates’ private account, during their quick prep session. The lawyer was that good.
“This is neither here nor there.” Chang pushed the letter and check aside. “What I want to know is, did you go into that building hunting your ex with intent to kill him?”
“Of course not.” Sophie met Chang’s gaze, her eyes wide and guileless. “I merely wanted to ascertain Assan’s presence in the building so that I could call the ‘proper authorities,’ as you have described them. In fact, I did talk over the situation with a detective on the case, and according to Sergeant Lei Texeira, the clue I had was too thin to submit to anyone, given the gallery owner’s history with Maui Police Department.”
Chang flipped to the crime scene photos and pushed them over to Sophie and Bennie Fernandez. Sophie made herself look, her expression neutral. Assan Ang lay on his back in a pool of blood. The gash in his neck was a gruesome smile.
“Assan Ang was unarmed. His throat was cut from behind. Tell me how this brutal killing is self-defense.”
Sophie described the series of events. “Assan was not unarmed. He was armed with a phone that showed my friend, Sergeant Texeira, who I mentioned before, being held prisoner. Bound and gagged. Tortured by him, with the push of a button.”
“You have statements from responding officers and Sergeant Texeira backing all this up,” Fernandez chimed in. “You’re trying to turn this into a witch hunt.”
“No such thing. I’m merely attempting to determine if less than deadly force might have been enough to restrain Assan Ang.” Chang’s chill dark gaze fastened on Sophie. “Tell me again why you killed him.”
Sophie licked dry lips and swallowed. Herein lay the crux of the matter. “I knew this man intimately. I heard the inflection of Assan’s voice when he said to me, ‘She’s dead. You brought this on her. I’ll never tell you where she is,’ and he cut off Lei’s air with a push of a button. I knew in that moment that Assan had nothing but contempt for me. Even when I held a knife to his throat to bargain for my friend’s life, he didn’t take me seriously. I had lived through his tortures, punishments, and mental games for five years. I could not give in or Lei and I were both dead. If I took him out then, there was a chance I could find where he’d hidden her before she smothered.”
“But you could have tied him, then searched him.” Chang pointed to the photo documenting patterns in the congealing blood around the body, the dark fluid soaking the front of the man’s clothing. “Evidence at the scene suggests you searched him twice.”
“And that is in my original statement, one I’m sure that’s been backed up by Jake Dunn. My partner helped me search him the second time, when I found the key to the room where Assan intended to keep me captive.”
“There is no evidence he planned to…”
“Respectfully, Mr. District Attorney, I disagree.” Sophie glared at Chang. “Assan Ang used the ‘safe room’ in our apartment in Hong Kong to keep me in complete darkness. For days. In between episodes of sexual and other torture. That chamber that we found was outfitted much as that room in our apartment had been.”
Bennie Fernandez cleared his throat and held up a hand. “Ms. Ang is clearly a victim of battered woman syndrome. Batter
ed woman syndrome is now recognized in legislation by many states and is considered when defending battered wives who kill or injure their abusive spouses.”
Sophie frowned at Fernandez, feeling defensive. She didn’t have a “syndrome.” She had not only escaped—she’d overcome that monster’s grip and given him better than he deserved with a quick death!
Fernandez held up his hand again toward Chang, who’d opened his mouth in rebuttal. “BWS is an indication of the defendant’s state of mind and in court, will be considered a mitigating circumstance. A Hawaii court will likely consider that as a BWS woman, Ms. Ang felt that she was justified in attacking her abuser, and that she was in reasonable fear of imminent danger due to her condition and her experiences with the abuser.”
“Are you a psychologist, Mr. Fernandez?” Chang asked. “Has Ms. Ang been diagnosed with this supposed condition?”
Sophie squeezed her hands together in her lap, restraining herself from speaking. “Let him defend you; that’s what he’s there for,” Marcella’s voice said in her head.
“A mere technicality,” Fernandez said. “If you move ahead with these charges, you may count on expert witnesses and a psychological assessment to bolster the argument.”
Chang’s phone chimed, and he glanced down at it. “I have to take this.” The man gestured for the recording equipment to be turned off and exited the room.
Fernandez turned to Sophie.
Sophie’s cheeks felt hot and her eyes dry. Her pulse was hammering.
Anger. That’s what she felt. Anger! She had done what needed to be done to rid the world of a sadistic killer. These men were patronizing her: minimizing her judgment call in the moment, turning her necessary dispatch of Assan Ang into the knee-jerk act of a helpless, beaten woman.
“Don’t say it,” Fernandez held up a hand toward her, much as he had done toward Chang. “We don’t know what’s still recording, who’s still watching.”
“I do not like this line of defense,” Sophie persisted.
“I don’t care, my dear. It is both appropriate and indicated in your situation.”
Sophie’s gaze shifted to the mirrored wall behind Fernandez. She rolled her lips between her teeth and bit down on them to silence herself. She couldn’t wait to get out of there and “kick the shit out of something,” as Jake would say.
Chang returned. His face had gone sallow with stress and there were beads of sweat on his upper lip. “This deposition is adjourned. You will be informed if further statements need to be taken.”
“My client has work to return to,” Fernandez said. “This is most inconvenient.”
“Your client needs to stay available until we make a determination in these proceedings,” Chang said, and exited again.
Fernandez stood, gestured toward the door in a courtly way. “After you.”
Sophie went to the door, opened it, and gestured to Fernandez while holding it open. “No, sir. After you.”
Out in the hall, Fernandez touched her arm. “A case is all about perception.”
“What about truth?” Sophie turned to the cherubic little man.
“Truth is perception. There are facts, and then there is how those facts are presented.” Fernandez tugged down his wrinkled cotton jacket. “You heard the man. Stay available for a return interview.”
Sophie glanced at the clock. “I have somewhere to be. Thank you for your efforts, Mr. Fernandez.”
“Bennie, please. Call me Bennie,” Fernandez called after Sophie, but she didn’t look back, heading for the front of the building as fast as she could without running. She couldn’t wait to get away from both lawyers.
Chapter Forty-One
Alika felt underdressed in his sleeveless black Fight Club tee shirt and jeans as he pushed open a large brass-and-glass door to the swanky Honua Pub in downtown Honolulu, the address Frank Smithson had texted him.
“Beer garden, my ass,” Alika muttered as he stepped into a dim interior, cool with air-conditioning and gleaming with expensive leather and wood. A pretty hostess in a fitted black dress raised her brows in inquiry as he approached the stand. “I’m here to meet Frank Smithson.”
“Oh, the ambassador is already here. Your other party has already arrived, too. Follow me.”
Other party? Alika’s heart rate spiked. Maybe Sophie was already here, done with her deposition. He followed the hostess through the dignified restaurant and bar to a private area in the back.
Frank Smithson stood as Alika entered, and so did another man. This guy was large and ripped, with cold gray eyes, and his buzz-cut hair and crisp movements spoke military.
“Alika, I want you to meet Jake Dunn, Sophie’s work partner at Security Solutions. Jake, this is Alika Wolcott. He coached Sophie’s fighting for years.”
“Good to meet you.” Dunn wrung Alika’s hand, his tone curt.
“Likewise.” Alika gave back as good as he got, crunching Dunn’s bones in his grip. What a prick! What was his problem?
The men sat. Beers and menus arrived. Alika avoided Dunn’s steady stare, taking in the room’s elegant appointments. “I should’ve known that when an ambassador invites you to a pub, a suit jacket is in order.”
“Hardly.” Frank had a mellow bass laugh. “But you are right. The Honua Pub is a bit old-fashioned. I wasn’t expecting Jake, but Sophie invited him. And I don’t know either of you well. Tell me who you are and what you do.” His dark brown gaze was level and piercing. “And how well you know my daughter.”
Alika glanced over at Dunn. The other man’s eyes shifted away. He flicked a finger at Alika. “You go first.”
“Well, as you know, Frank, I’m a businessman. I met Sophie five years ago at my gym, Fight Club downtown. Began coaching her in MMA, and as you may be aware, she’s very talented. Last year we went out a few times.” Alika took a sip of his beer. “I got injured in a situation related to one of her cases and decided to go back to Kaua’i, where most of my construction business is based, and let things cool off.”
“Sophie said you broke up,” Frank said. “I know she missed you when she got injured.”
“We agreed to stop seeing each other, yes, mainly due to geography and unfinished business with her ex. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for her through her injury.” His throat had gone dry, and Alika took another sip of beer. “I thought a clean break was best. But that could be changing. I’m open to a new start if she is.”
Alika hadn’t meant to declare himself like this, but as he met Dunn’s gaze he felt the truth of his words. He wanted to be with Sophie, and he wasn’t intimidated by the competition. Dunn narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest so that they bulged. Asshole. Alika wasn’t impressed. “Long distance doesn’t work for me, though, so we’ll see. I’ve got plenty going on with my main business right now. We are building a good-sized ‘green’ low-income housing project on Kaua’i that’s keeping me there, and I’ve got my own chopper. That’s why Marcella contacted me about finding Sophie in Kalalau and bringing her back for the deposition.”
Jake Dunn interrupted, ignoring Alika as if he hadn’t spoken. “Aren’t you worried about Sophie leaving her job at Security Solutions and going off the grid?” He directed the question to Frank.
Frank eyed the younger man. “I know my daughter well enough to know I can’t tell her much of anything. I’ve got my line drawn in the sand with her: she has to check in with me every three days. She tries to abide by that. But I would never be fool enough to try to tell her what to do.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “You got that right. It’s made being her partner tough sometimes.”
“I can imagine. But what you can trust is that Sophie knows what she’s doing, and can take care of herself. She survived Assan Ang, after all.” Frank’s mouth tightened grimly. “What she needs is people who believe in her and support her. Even when she goes off the rails, like it seems she’s done now. She’s just trying to find her way, and she will. I hope both of you will help her, not get in her
way.”
“I’ve known her too long to imagine I could tell her anything,” Alika said. “But Dunn here seems to think otherwise. Dunn, want to fill me and the ambassador in on why?”
“Sophie is new to private security. I’m not.” The muscle-bound prick went on to describe his career in Special Forces. He’d seen action everywhere from Fallujah to Bangkok, and he had been working in private security since he retired from the military. “Sophie is incredible. Great instincts, too many talents to count, off the charts with tech. But she’s inexperienced in some ways—naïve. Doesn’t have experience with undercover work, hasn’t had time enough in the field. She’s been injured a number of times since she left the FBI, and not small incidents, either. She’s not alert enough to her surroundings. Misinterprets people. Has a tough time operating undercover in terms of playing a part. And all that…makes me worry.” Dunn hid his emotion behind his beer stein, but Alika saw it.
This guy had it bad for her, and it wouldn’t pay to underestimate him.
Dunn had the look of a dirty fighter.
Chapter Forty-Two
Sophie pushed through the doors of the Honua Pub, her father’s favorite hangout, with Marcella in tow. The men, seated at a round corner table, rose to greet them. Sophie approached her father first, giving him a big hug.
He patted her shoulder. “How was the deposition, darling?”
“I survived.”
“Sophie had Bennie Fernandez, nastiest little defense lawyer this side of the Rocky Mountains, in her corner,” Marcella said. “It doesn’t get any better than that. Hey, Jake. And Alika! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Looking good, my friend.”