by Toby Neal
“Were you aware that his wife and daughters have also disappeared? And that we’ve found the body of captain of the boat they rented? Captain Kaihale was murdered in cold blood. Washed up in a harbor, miles from where the boat was found, with his throat slit.”
“Oh my God!” Ramsey sounded genuinely shocked.
“Yes. And the more time that goes by without us finding any of them, the worse their chances look.” Lei’s voice had gone cold. She’d listened to Stevens’s message about the possible trafficking. That fate was only marginally better than being murdered outright—the women might live a little longer, but death awaited them at the end of a long period of being raped and used. If only she had Ramsey on video call so she could see his expression.
“I . . . holy shit . . .” Ramsey’s voice trailed off and then sounded muffled, as though he were speaking through his hands. “I had no idea. I guess I was thinking Pete took off, tried to bail on his debts, and take his designs or something.”
“And isn’t it true that you inherit Pete’s designs and his half of the business if he dies?” Lei rapped out.
Ramsey said nothing for a long, tension-filled moment. “How did you find that out? That’s private, privileged information.”
“I asked you a question, Mr. Ramsey. Isn’t it true that you inherit Peterson’s designs and his half of the business upon his demise? How handy it would be if his family were gone too, and there was no claim on any of it.”
A long beat of silence. “My attorney will speak with you in future regarding these matters.” Ramsey hung up.
“Shit!” Lei exclaimed. She banged down her receiver. “That slimeball did it somehow, and I’m going to nail him.”
“Scoop me in, Sweets.” Stevens’s voice came from the door of the cubicle. “Who’s got you so riled up?”
Lei swiveled her battered old office chair to face her husband.
Stevens’s height filled the doorway. His sky-blue eyes, deep-set under dark brows, looked tired. His mouth was tight, bracketed by pain—probably one of his headaches. His brown hair was disordered by the perpetual Maui wind.
“Mahoe with you?” Lei asked.
“He stopped in at the head.”
“Good.” Lei sprang up off her chair and tugged Stevens into the cubicle by the wrist. She shut the door behind him. “I need a hug. And a kiss.”
Those blue eyes brightened. His mouth curved in a smile. “I live to serve.” An old joke of theirs.
Lei took Stevens’s face in her hands, feeling the dusky stubble on his cheeks, and drew him down, hungry for the touch of his mouth. Their kiss was both familiar and wild as Stevens’s hands roamed over her, trailing sparks in their wake, and she wrapped around him.
Being with him restored her. Leached out the frustration. Refilled her with strength—and it did the same for him. She could feel energy kindling between them as their bodies caught fire.
Finally, they came up for air. “You always keep me guessing,” Stevens breathed into Lei’s ear. “This never gets old. You. Us. This.”
“Nope, not for me either.” Lei detached herself gently, sliding her hands down his arms. “I just . . . needed that. This case . . .”
“It’s awful and just getting worse,” Stevens said.
A light rap on the cubicle’s door. “LT? Lei? You guys in there?” Mahoe sounded uncertain.
Lei grinned at Stevens. “Perfect timing. Come on in. We were just catching up.”
Mahoe opened the door but didn’t enter. “Captain waylaid me on the way from the bathroom. She wants a sitrep with all of us in her office.”
“You guys go on. I need a sec to organize my notes,” Lei said.
Stevens trailed Mahoe out, pausing in the doorway to wink back at her. “We’ve got a date later,” he whispered.
“I live to serve,” Lei said. He grinned, and shut the door.
Lei sat down and quickly imported the recording she’d made of her talk with Ramsey into the electronic case file. She shunted the voice duplicate to their voice-to-text translator program, and hit PRINT on a transcript of it for the team to review. She stuffed all the papers she’d gathered into the main case jacket after saving everything to the digital one, and hurried out toward the Captain’s office, steeling herself for all the bad news they had to review.
Chapter Fifteen
Stevens shifted in his seat in the Bronco as evening deepened into night. “One of us might as well get a few winks.”
“You first, old man.” Mahoe’s teeth gleamed briefly in the dark of the unlit SUV. “You seem like you need a nap.” He lifted the binoculars back up to his eyes. “Still nothing moving over there.”
“Hey. I know when to grab a good thing when it’s offered. No shame here.” Stevens reclined his seat and threw an arm over his eyes.
The temporary high from the quick makeout session with Lei had worn off long ago in the face of the review team meeting and the Captain’s orders for he and Mahoe to spend the night watching the container. Omura’d put in for more surveillance to begin the next day, but it appeared that sleep was going to be in short supply until this case was solved.
The Bronco was situated on the other side of the chain-link fence outside of the container storage area, wedged in among bushes and an overhanging ironwood tree in the vacant lot. Stevens had parked off to the side, hanging a towel over the window of the passenger side to provide cover and disguise. The funky old SUV just looked like a homeless person was trying to stay out of view and camp in his vehicle.
Freddie hadn’t given up “the guy” who’d hired him, in spite of increased bribes and threats. He had, however, shared the warehouse location where they’d done the remodel on the container. Lei was going to work on that at home tonight, along with reading the Peterson daughter’s diary that she’d retrieved from the wreck of the Sea Cloud.
Stevens slowed his breathing deliberately, trying to relax. Beside him, Mahoe shifted his weight and his seat creaked. Night wind soughed gently in the long, feathery needles of the ironwood tree, blowing in through the open window and touching Stevens’s face like a caress.
In the Marines, right out of high school, Stevens had learned to sleep on demand. That skill had come in handy over the years, but he hadn’t been able to access it since the disastrous stint he’d done overseas as a troop trainer in Honduras. Images from that time, almost three years ago now, still haunted him when he let his mind wander—along with the chronic headaches.
But at least he’d kicked the booze habit he’d had going.
He and Lei had made it through that dark time, adding their precious daughter to a growing family that included his mom Ellen, her father Wayne, his son Kiet from his first marriage, and now, her grandfather Soga.
What were they going to do about Soga? Lei’s grandfather was still in the hospital, but the clock was ticking until his discharge. If they didn’t find a step-down facility soon, he’d just be put out on the street to make his way home. Living on another island really complicated things.
Stevens must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Mahoe was plucking at his sleeve. “My turn for some shut-eye, LT.”
“Any activity?” Stevens moved his seat back up and took the binoculars from Mahoe.
“Nope.” Mahoe put his seat down and turned on his side, away from Stevens. Only moments later, gentle snores filled the cab of the truck—the young man had obviously needed some rest.
Stevens put the binoculars to his eyes. The rust-red shipping container, parked near one of the overhead security lights, was unremarkable except for the slight square protrusion of the air conditioner mounted in the side.
He poured some coffee from the departmental thermos into its metal lid, and sipped. Mahoe had also stocked up for the stakeout with some protein bars. Stevens peeled one of those and ate it.
They had to be moving the women to this container and shipping it out soon. Every day that the captives were kept somewhere else on the island was a day closer
to their possible discovery. The traffickers would want that container gone, ASAP. Maybe they’d get lucky, and tonight would be the night.
Chapter Sixteen
Lei sat on the leather sofa in the living room with Rosie cradled in one arm, drinking her last bottle of the day, and the other wrapped around Kiet as Lei read him a story. Kiet could read fluently but still loved their evening ritual on the couch.
The little boy held the book and turned the pages, following along as she read. Lei caressed his jet-black hair and rubbed his back, snuggling him closer against her side. To add to the togetherness, Conan had climbed up onto the other end of the couch, crowding against Kiet with his warm, hairy bulk.
Lei finished the story and kissed the top of Kiet’s head. “All right, little man. Brush teeth and bed while I put Rosie down.”
Kiet sighed in exaggerated disappointment, and slid off the couch. “Can Conan come to bed with me?”
Conan usually slept in the living room, but since Keiki’s passing, the big Rottie had mounted a campaign to join his humans, and Kiet was clearly the weak link. “Okay. Just this once.” It would turn into more, but what was the harm?
“Yay!” Kiet trotted down the hall with Conan at his heels, heading for the bathroom. Lei stood up carefully, trying not to disturb Rosie’s sleeping as she set aside the empty bottle.
She’d come straight home after the case review meeting with plenty of work to do, but thankfully, Captain Omura understood that both of her detectives couldn’t be away indefinitely with two young children at home, even with babysitting in the form of Wayne and Ellen available.
Rosie burped as Lei lifted her soft, hefty warmth to her shoulder. “Good one, baby girl.” Lei headed down the hall and settled the baby in her crib across from Kiet’s bed. She covered her with the quilt as Rosie blinked sleepily and plugged her mouth with a thumb.
Lei turned on the angel nightlight and cranked the baby’s silent mobile. Glow-in-the-dark shells circled above her daughter’s head as Kiet returned.
Lei tucked him in, too, kissing his forehead and pulling his blanket up under his chin. “Goodnight, little man.” Conan, sheepish and clearly prepared to be ousted from the room, hopped up onto the boy’s comforter, making puppy eyes at Lei. She patted his head in answer, and the Rottie’s ears relaxed in happiness.
“Goodnight, kids,” she whispered from the doorway.
“G’night, Mama,” Kiet whispered back. Rosie was quiet, which was excellent. It had taken months of training to get the children to go down at the same time and not disrupt each other. Lei left the door open an inch or so for Conan to exit if he wished, and tiptoed down the hall to the office/guest room at the back of the house.
Lei powered up her computer, an upgrade from the one at work, but still nothing like what Sophie would have to do research on . . . but no. She couldn’t keep bothering Sophie for everything. Her computer whiz friend had her own cases.
While the computer booted, Lei turned on the desk lamp and picked up the Peterson girl’s diary, bracing herself internally. She hadn’t even wanted to open it enough to see which of the three girls had written it. Reading it would bring the girls even closer emotionally—but it had to be done.
Lei jimmied the little lock that sealed the diary with a paperclip. She opened the bright cardboard cover.
“Adelia,” she breathed as she traced the name written on the inside flap, along with the girl’s birthdate—clearly the diary had been a gift. “You’re fifteen years old.” Older sister Joanie was seventeen, and the youngest, Sarah, was thirteen. Their mother, Emma, was only forty-five, and Priscilla Gutierrez, the cook/maid crew member, was thirty.
The teen girls, particularly, were prime ages to be the victims of a sex trafficker. They had to find them before they were shipped overseas. She was relieved that Stevens had a good lead in the Matson container; they’d be able to intercept the women at that shipping container before it got away.
Lei leaned back in her chair and focused on clear, round script written in sparkly gel pen looping across pale pink pages. “Got this journal for my birthday, and saved it for the Hawaii vacation Dad’s taking us on. A real yacht! I hope it’s fun. I am going to miss Zoe and Bella; but maybe there’s Wi-Fi out on the ocean!”
Lei pulled out her notepad, still stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans, and made a note of Adelia’s friends’ names, just in case she needed more background.
“Day one: OMG! We hadn’t even got out of the harbor on O`ahu when we saw dolphins! I wanted to lie on the bowsprit so I could be as close to them as possible, but Captain Kaihale told me it wasn’t safe. He’s nice, really funny and likes to tell Hawaiian legends and stories. I especially liked the one about how the trickster demigod Maui hooked the Hawaiian Islands up from the sea . . .”
Lei began to skim, flipping pages. She was forming an impression of a cheerful, compliant middle child, always peacemaking between sensitive, tearful Sarah and strong-willed Joanie. “Mom gave us all a time-out since Joanie was complaining that the cruise was boring and Sarah was whining about missing her friends; I didn’t bother pointing out that I hadn’t said anything one way or the other. I just wanted to be alone, to write in this journal and read my book and listen to my iPod without anyone bugging me.
I also think Mom wanted a chance to be alone with Dad; they went into their cabin and locked the door, right in the middle of the day! Ew. I don’t even want to imagine what they were doing in there; but on the other hand, I’ve been worried that they haven’t been getting along, and I’d hate for them to divorce like Dad’s partner John did, or Bella’s parents.
That totally sucked for Bella. Her mom went from being well-off to scrounging for a job and living in this crappy apartment, and Bella had to choose which parent she went to stay with. She likes her mom better, but her dad had the house and could give her a car, so she stayed with him.
I’d never want to have to make a choice like that.
Yeah, I like that we are all together in one place, forced to be together, really, and it’s helping our family get closer even if there are some bumps. It’s sad how we never spend time with each other, with school and activities and friends, and Dad’s never home because he’s always working on that invention. As it gets closer to the product launch and the IP sale, I feel really proud of him. He and John are really going to do a good thing for the world! And we get to be a part of it.”
That was the last entry, dated before the day of the attack.
Lei shut the diary and set it aside. She had a few more names to run down; she had confirmation of the purpose of the trip; she had a little fuller picture of the family and their dynamics. Now, more than ever, she wanted to find a fifteen-year-old girl named Adelia.
Lei opened up her browser, logged into the MPD website, and pulled up the search database that listed Maui’s current owners and renters by address. She plugged in the location of the warehouse where Stevens’s CI had done the work on the container the women were going to be housed in. She cut and pasted the name and business address into the case file’s notes area.
She ran a search on the import company and found a website with a catalog of home furnishings imported from other countries: carved wooden end tables, lamp bases and nesting stools from Bali, and Asian-style vases and statues from Taiwan. There were also coconut fiber products like woven floor mats and decorative pounded fabrics from Guam, and textiles from India and Sri Lanka, custom printed with hand-stamped designs. “Could be a front,” she murmured. “For drugs or other trafficking.”
What if they shipped women, kidnapped in the US, to those locations, then filled the containers with these imports and brought them back to supply to retailers here in Hawaii? “Not a bad turnaround,” she murmured, turning the bone hook in her fingers as she scrolled through public records. “No sign of anything going over to those countries in their containers.”
She glanced at the clock on the corner of the desk—glowing red letters showed one a.m. alr
eady. Poor Michael. He was going to be up all night watching that container.
Lei was just taking out her phone to send him a text when the phone buzzed with an incoming call. She frowned when she saw the name and number. “Aina? Hey. Why are you calling so late?”
“We’re sending a team to answer another distress call at sea—same MO as the first one. Another yacht’s been attacked.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lei tugged her MPD ball cap low and tight on her forehead, threading her curly ponytail through the gap in the back. The early morning breeze was chilly, so she also pulled a windbreaker hood up over the hat and tightened the elastic cord under her chin. She zipped the jacket up, and turned toward Aina Thomas, sensibly dressed in Coast Guard heavy weather gear. The Defender peeled away from the dock, making her stagger and grab the handrail. “Thanks for waiting for us to get to the docks.”
Thomas shrugged. “We had to wait until dawn, anyway. Like I told you on the phone, we’re just going over to Moloka`i as part of the search. We haven’t found the Golden Fleece yet.”
“Gotcha.” The wind in Lei’s face was as cold as if she were on the mainland, and she huddled in the lee of the boat’s cabin as the rigid inflatable bounced at full throttle across dawn-lit, pewter-gray waves. Wetness chilled her further as spray flew back from the bow. She leaned forward to shout into Thomas’s ear. “Can we go inside the cabin?”
“Not this time. My commanding officer’s inside, doing a sitrep with the rest of the search team from Moloka`i,” Thomas shouted back. “We’ve pinpointed where the call came from, near the Kaunakakai Harbor, so Commander Decker thought it might save time to bring you two along. Good thing you were able to get your crime scene tech to come.” Thomas indicated Becca Nunez with his chin.
Lei turned to glance at her colleague. Nunez was more sensibly dressed than Lei, swathed in a bright yellow slicker and boots. She looked distinctly green, however, as she gripped the boat’s safety rail. “Nunez doesn’t like boats, but she’s never one to back down from a challenge.”