“He’s in therapy.”
“I’d say it’s not working.”
“Don’t worry about it. Give your statements to the officers.” Lani left to greet an attractive woman with long dark hair. They spoke in hushed whispers and seemed to know each other on a more intimate level.
Emily and Rick watched the two talk and heard comments between them about ‘he’s been doing better in therapy’ and ‘I’ll bail him out tonight’.
Jordan joined Emily and Rick. “Nice place you picked for dinner. What’s for dessert? A bomb threat?”
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Friday 2300 Hours
Frantic panting escaped the woman’s lips as she ran for her life, ragged breathing with low distressed whimpers with every step she took. She wasn’t sure where she was or what direction she was fleeing. She needed help. Her worst nightmare blended reality with full-blown adrenalin fear.
Her mind rewound to her attack, clothes torn off, dragged away from the familiar beach and occupied neighborhoods, and a sharp needle piercing her skin. Each memory shook her body in recollection, luckily the syringe didn’t depress, releasing the unknown serum into her system. Her cell phone had been in her pocket and was lost during the violent attack.
A man had sneaked up behind her along the northeast shoreline of Kekaha Beach, a place where she walked every evening late on a regular basis after a long shift at the hotel. It was the island’s largest beach and never accounted for any crime. Locals and tourists were usually everywhere. Her walking routine every night was how she coped with the long hours and then it enabled her to sleep more soundly.
She felt rocks and twigs pressed against her feet as she ran, praying that she wouldn’t lose her balance and tumble. She couldn’t risk loosing any time if she wanted to live. Her perspective in the darkness looked skewed, full of strange distortions and eerie noises. She couldn’t remember which direction the neighborhoods were and only seemed to move deeper into the tropical countryside.
A dense bush and heavy tree trunk grazed her shoulder causing a misstep. She dropped onto the grassy ground jarring her body. Dazed. Her head felt peculiar as if she had a dissipating migraine headache.
The smell of the wet Hawaiian earth made her nauseated for some reason, but it wasn’t the earth that made her sick, but the blood pouring down her face onto her arm. She had struck the side of her head during the fall.
She pushed with all of her dwindling strength to stand up, woozy, terrified and exhausted. Dressed only in her cotton panties and ripped bra, she managed to keep moving forward, but with less speed now.
She had to stop and rest if she wanted to escape.
* * * * *
Keolo’ewa.
The thrill of the chase kept him focused with an increasing hunger. A craving that rarely ventured too far away from his mind, but it kept him grounded in the world. He knew that it would take some time to become everything he was promised. Everything he worked and strived for everyday. His faith was in his god and nothing would change that necessity.
Keo moved stealthily though the grounds; he could hear the woman floundering her way out of the maze, loud, predictable, and perfect.
Everything about the island had a distinct taste and aura feel.
In the dark, he zigged before an overgrown tree and then zagged away from a cliff. It was spiritual; the new immortal grew inside him. The god that oversaw his progress helped to guide him through his tasks.
Keolo’ewa.
Keo stopped. Listened, turned his head to one side. Quiet. He felt her presence and she was close. He let his instincts guide him, a willing participant. He forged ahead with footsteps barely audible except to wildlife. They wouldn’t dare interfere with his mission, but merely be an eyewitness to his greatness.
Slowly reaching down to his side, he retrieved his hunting knife. Even though the area was dark, lack of the typical shining moon along with increasing cloud cover, he could see his reflection into the next world.
The stars watched him.
It happened, a sign that he could no longer ignore his destiny. A drop of warm rain touched his arm, turning into spatters of electrified moisture.
It was time.
Keo’s barefoot steps shortened, not out of weariness, but in anticipation. Senses keener than the most prolific predators, he held his breath. He counted his steps… one… two… three… four… and… half…
A whimper interrupted his concentration on the vibes he was sent. Again, a breath expelled just ahead under a tree.
Keo took another step, reached under a large plant, and wrenched out a flailing, half naked woman. She screamed, but no one would hear her.
He clutched her thighs as her hands wildly clawed her his face. Finally, his fingers felt her slim throat under the pressure of his grip.
Tighter.
She waved her arms in a frantic display. No sound escaped her lips as her eyes bulged, and entire body weakened until the last gasp for air.
Gone.
Her eyes told the unfolding story like a lens to a movie camera.
Keo laid her back on the ground gently. His work had only just begun.
Keolo’ewa.
* * * * *
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday 1520 Hours
The wind and sea air invigorated the soul and personal autonomy. The blues, lush greens, and rocky terrain accented the picture perfect views. The 48-foot sailing catamaran hummed through the crystal blue waters along the most spectacular sixteen miles of coastline of the Na’Pali coast. The vessel left the northern part of the island near Princeville and headed south.
The island empowered Emily, she felt more alive than ever as she stood at the port side gazing out. It wasn’t about relaxation for her; it was about peace. She looked to Rick who was laughing from something that either Jordan or Matt said and it was difficult to tell which one of them told the joke. The men were getting along and everything fell into place for their recon trip of the island.
They decided after the previous night’s events that they needed to find out more about the island. Rick had phoned Matt, their previous scuba guide, to ask about chartering a boat and what it would entail. Matt offered to take them on the late schedule to the deserted beaches, since it took a permit in most places and he cleared the schedule for them. It also meant that they would run into few tourists, if any. Curiosity and sightseeing was the only information afforded to Matt. The less he knew the better; it kept their business and identities intact.
Emily studied the rocky shoreline of Kauai as her mind wandered to the killer.
How could someone sneak onto the island under the radar? What it would take for someone to know the island inside and out?
She leaned against the railing feeling the wind in her face.
Who are you and what do you want from your victims?
She kept thinking about the statue and what Sergeant Candena had told her about the sacrifice and temple at the crime scene.
Dark rain clouds cluttered the horizon to the northwest. Black, looming clouds, prepared to batter the island, no doubt the rain gods were going to be active.
Emily dressed in quick drying cargo shorts and hiking shoes. She came prepared with a change of clothes, extra batteries for her camera, and the usual covert investigator’s kit. It still bothered her that she didn’t have her gun, but she’d get over it. She bought a knife from local fishing and hunting store. The blade felt strange in her hand, foreign and unfriendly. Her intuition told her to always be prepared, whether she was alone or not, preparedness kept her ready to act if something unexpected arose.
“Hey.” Jordan piped up as he stood next to Emily. “I know what you’re thinking.” He looked more like a boat team racer dressed in white shorts and shirt than a typical tourist.
“Yeah, sure you do Jordan.” Emily smiled.
“I do.” He leaned forward and quietly said, “Who is this killer and where is he going to strike next? Am
I close?”
“Something like that.”
“I would have come here even if there were hundreds of escaped zombie menehunes out for blood. It’s absolutely gorgeous here.” He stared at Emily when he made that remark.
“Get ready to land at Nualolo Kai!” Shouted Matt.
The surf was a little rough with waves increasing into the afternoon. It would take a few extra minutes of bouncing to get to the shore, but everyone was calm and relaxed with Matt at the helm.
The three passengers stood together and hung on as the catamaran bounced, water sprayed, as the ride of a fiberglass, bucking bronco ensued. Not fighting nature, but the severe nature of the ocean was a reality check. There had been so many ships and boats for the past several hundred years that found solace along Kauai’s coastline. It mesmerized Emily as she saw the immense secluded beach.
After a few minutes, Matt expertly maneuvered the boat to the beach. “Okay, safe and sound. Grab just what you need along with some water. I’ve packed some food for later on the ride home.” He jumped from the catamaran. “C’mon let’s go check it out.”
Emily thought Matt was a great guide. She was sure that he’d brought hundreds, maybe even thousands of people to this beach area, but he still made it sound like it was a new adventure.
Emily grabbed another water bottle to carry in her backpack. Rick and Jordan did the same as they firmly filled their backpacks. Matt explained the area and history of the ancient Hawaiian fishing village from 800 years ago and talked of a fire goddess. He added some dramatic flair to the story with different voices and well rehearsed embellishments.
They moved away from the beach into the dense island forest. The group walked in a single file line along a well-used path with Matt leading the group and Rick taking up the rear. Emily fixed her eyes on the back of Jordan’s shirt, but couldn’t help to glance from side to side.
There was a temperate tickle in the back of her mind. Through many stakeouts and surveillance tasks, Emily could sense when she was close to the perpetrator or something that was going to happen.
The early ruins rambled through various areas of an ancient camp, smooth rocks laid the foundation to primitive structures. It had the haunt of a much simpler and gentler time with a dash of harsh realities of nature. The group stomped around the structures, each was quiet, including Jordan, as Matt prattled on about the history.
Rick asked, “This seems pretty remote even for a fishing village. Is there a way to get to the other part of the island?”
“Nope. The only way to get here is from the water.” Matt lingered to allow the group to move on their own schedule.
“It’s beautiful, serene.” Emily added.
“Can’t get any help if something goes wrong.”
To Jordan, Matt explained. “Don’t worry, cell phones work and I have every emergency agency on speed dial.” He continued, “I want to take you to a spectacular place where you can really get the feeling of the island. C’mon’…”
Matt picked up the pace as they headed for a trail. The terrain looked different from the rest of the area, more rugged like the uneven cliffs along the coast.
Emily lagged behind to examine the area, took a few photos for documentation, and fell into formation at the end of the line. She sensed that the killer had been at the location, perhaps even camped and hid out as well as other parts of the island. The touch of death left an aura of an imprint no matter where it went, and the demented mind wasn’t too far away. It was a strange thought that she couldn’t shake. Her rational, analytical side didn’t want to agree with her more creative thought process, especially since she didn’t have any proof or evidence.
The sound of the first heavy downpour hit the tops of the trees like a banshee. It was a constant curtain of rainfall on nature’s most practical canopy. The soft, warm rains were now intense with a relentless objective. The most beautiful side of the island had to pay its toll with brutal weather and unpredictable tide patterns; there was always a price to pay for paradise, even a slice of heaven.
The trail turned steeper at every turn, the sure-footed tread of the hiking shoes seemed to be no match for the dicey slopes. Water mixed with rocks and island soil made for a slippery combination that tested the strength and agility for Emily. The rain came down hard in waves as a constant reminder of the black clouds above. The beautiful surroundings looked wet and murky with the sun forgotten.
“Everybody okay?” Matt called back. “There’s a resting place just up ahead where we can wait out the storm.”
“There isn’t a bar up there is there?” Jordan quipped.
Matt laughed and guided the group higher up a steep trail. Water rushed downward and splashed over their ankles. The view was magnificent, but treacherous. The men moved quickly and gained some distance ahead of Emily.
She tightened the strap around her waist from her backpack with a strong tug, securing it in place. She could feel that her socks were soaked inside her shoes. Breathing deeply from the exertion and extra obstacles endured, Emily took a step with her right foot, slipping backward a few inches. She caught herself and let out a small gasp looking over the ledge on the left side. Not thinking about the potential consequences, she moved forward even faster to catch up to the men.
The rain poured.
Emily’s hair was stuck to her face, droplets of water rolled down her neck and back. Just as she was about to put her left foot forward on the outside of the trail directly above the crashing cliffs of the Na’Pali coastline, it happened.
Emily completely lost her footing and slipped over the edge.
Her left leg directed her decent down the cliff, she clawed frantically at the small overhang managing to catch her fingers in a secure crack between the rocks. She let out a scream, but the pounding rain muffled her plea for help. Now looking uphill, she couldn’t see anything except the rocks and muddy water rushing into her face.
Emily searched for another handhold, anything that would take the pressure off of her right side. Rocks crumbled under her hand and showered down the cliff to the distant ocean below.
The intense pain of trying to hold on was almost too much. Her back tightened in spasms, arms aching with fatigue, and feet numbed.
Emily would tumble down the cliff battering her body before plunging deep into the surf if she failed. Her fleeting thoughts were of the island serial killer and how she would prefer to fight to the death in hand-to-hand combat with him instead of her potential fate dangling over the edge.
There was another handhold just about a foot away; she moved her body from side to side to gain momentum to reach for it, hopefully to hold on long enough. Dangling like a marionette with an inexperienced puppeteer, Emily clung to the rocks. Her left foot caught a divot in the jagged cliff wall and tropical wet grasses. She hung on as a river of water pounded her face and body loosening her handgrips.
Emily fought with her muscles and her mind, but it wasn’t good enough. She felt herself losing her grip just as another wall of water smashed into her.
* * * * *
Chapter Seventeen
Saturday 1630 Hours
Lani caught the call on his day off, just as he was about to blow off some steam. The heavy rainstorm had brought ideal waves for surfing. He thought that he could free his mind of the problems of his job, his life, and the roaming killer.
He was told to get down to Kekaha Beach Park immediately - no other details were available. The police department wasn’t equipped with criminal profilers or serial crime experts to expedite the investigation process. It would be a long process to investigate the crime scene.
Parking on one of the back roads above the beach park, Lani walked toward the crime scene through the muddy terrain. A couple of local walkers had found the woman. He passed two patrol officers first at the scene puking in the bushes, a bad sign for any police officer or investigator.
Lani slowed his pace, trying to put off the inevitable. He had studied dozens of homicide ca
ses throughout the US, but there was a big difference of viewing photographs, and physically standing over the tortured, mutilated body.
The usual crowd of meandering patrol officers kept their distance from the crime scene this time, instead of trampling everything within the area of the body. The rain had washed away any potential evidence; however, if the first officers had any forensic foresight, they would have carefully tarped the body and surrounding areas.
Luck was for another crime scene, thought Lani.
The body was seated on the ground without clothes, leaning against a palm tree, legs straight out and slightly arched outward, head forward, arms bowed toward the lap. The woman had dark brown, matted hair, shoulder length, covering part of her face. Rigor had set in for about eight to ten hours, but the body appeared more like a life size doll than a dead body due to the ghastly waxy color of the skin.
Lani urged himself to move forward to examine the body before the coroner took her away. It wasn’t the initial horrific nature of the dead woman outdoors, but what the killer had done to her.
Stacked in a neat pile between her ankles sat her intestines coiled up with special care, along with several internal organs, and what appeared to be various foliage pieces, sticks and leaves from surrounding areas. Her eyes, gouged out from the sockets, sat on top of the hideous pile of organs as if to diligently watch over them.
The exhibition stopped Lani cold.
He didn’t know whether or not to turn and walk away, but the unusual display glued his stare to the eyeballs staring back at him – almost hypnotizing. Pulling his gaze from the internal pile, he could see the neatly sliced area around her stomach. A shiny strip along both sides of the incision suggested something used to close the wound.
Lani walked to the right side of the dead woman, knelt down, and took a closer look at the incision. The stench permeated his nose. He unconsciously wrinkled his face and tried to ignore the ripe recipe of decomposition. Accessing his memory of studied homicide cases, he could only think of Jack the Ripper as he examined the victim.
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