by Toby Neal
Ramsey appeared deeply miserable. “I want to tell you, but I can’t.”
“Not without that agreement,” Cunningham chimed in.
“I can tell you right now that I won’t be able to get such a blanket agreement—or any agreement, frankly—without some idea of the information you’ve got to trade.”
“I know how to contact the Pirate King,” Ramsey blurted.
Lei sat back and narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess. You contracted a hit on Peterson. It’s turned out to be a lot more of a bloodbath than you bargained for, and you’ve grown a conscience.”
Ramsey turned to Cunningham, his mouth ajar in shock. “I didn’t tell her that!”
“Call us back when you have that agreement in writing.” Cunningham ended the connection with a stab of his finger.
Chapter Forty
An hour later, Lei sat down with Bunuelos, Torufu, and Captain Omura in the conference room. A video monitor piped in screens showing Special Agent in Charge Ben Waxman on O`ahu, and the Maui District Attorney.
Omura opened the meeting. “We thought it was time to officially reach out to the FBI. This case is likely to go outside of our county jurisdiction, and we already know it crosses state lines with the involvement of Ramsey in Washington. With the addition of the Golden Fleece, an internationally registered vessel, and the Janssen Norwegian family as victims, there may even be international connections.”
“I understand.” Waxman, who bore a striking resemblance to Anderson Cooper, inclined his head. “I’d like you all to meet Special Agent Bateman, our tech specialist.” He turned the camera to include a seatmate.
“Yo. Howzit. How can we help?” Bateman had a young, forgettable face and wore a rumpled suit with a bolo tie.
“Aloha, SAC Waxman, Special Agent Bateman. As lead on the case, Captain Omura has asked me to bring you up to speed,” Lei said. She went through the events as quickly as she could. “We’ve reached a delicate point where we suspect there may be a leak in the Coast Guard; the raid on the pirate’s hideout was a bust, and they must be receiving advance tipoffs about these yachts to grab them up so efficiently. We’d like your support and resources to help.”
“That certainly seems appropriate. Please send over a copy of your case file and we’ll go from there,” Waxman said.
“Do you need online support?” Bateman asked.
“Definitely,” Lei said. “I actually reached out to Sophie Smithson, one of your former agents, for help early on. She got us great background that gave a lot of momentum with the Peterson murder. But we need the same sort of background workup on the Norwegians and the Golden Fleece, in order to uncover a motive for his murder—because we had a break in the case today. John Ramsey, Peterson’s partner, as much as admitted that he hired the Pirate King to kill Peterson. He’s come forward and is trying to broker a deal with our DA to give us more information.”
Lei, her partners, and Captain Omura had finished a meeting with the district attorney prior to adding the FBI into the call; the immunity agreement was at least roughed out.
“You’re telling us these victims weren’t targeted for the richness of their yachts, or as a hate crime, the way the Manifesto implied?” Waxman’s brows had gone up.
“We’re not sure of any of that yet.” Omura leaned forward, tapping her nails together. “Can you send over an agent to support us, not just help long-distance? We could use more boots on the ground. I’ve had to recuse two of my detectives from the case already.”
“Yes. I need a few hours to check in with my staff and see who’s available,” Waxman said.
“If I might request Ken Yamada or Marcella Scott, or both.” Lei had spent a brief few years working as an FBI agent under Waxman’s leadership, and had become close with both of those agents.
“Noted.” A smile lurked at the corner of Waxman’s mouth. “We’ll be in touch.” The FBI window on the screen went black.
The District Attorney inclined his head. “Good meeting. I like being in the loop. I had my girl fax over our offer to Ramsey. It’s not complete immunity, but it’s reduced charges. A starting point.”
“Good. Because I want to get what this guy knows ASAP,” Lei said.
“All of your speculation about motive hinges on this idea of murder-for-hire,” Omura told Lei. “Don’t get out in front of yourself too far. This could turn out to be a dead end.”
“I know.”
The meeting broke up and Lei hotfooted it to the fax machine. She grabbed the paper and tugged on Torufu’s sleeve. “Bunuelos deserves a break. Send him home, and come to my cubicle. We’ll fax this to Cunningham and interview Ramsey together.”
Lei took a minute before the meeting with Ramsey and Torufu to go to the bathroom and freshen up. A glance outside told her that the day was nearly over, but it had seemed so long already. She simply had to go home after this and see the kids! Not to mention a shower and a home-cooked meal would be nice—Stevens had texted her a picture of the meal her father had prepared for the family: one of her favorites, teriyaki chicken and rice.
She wedged a trash can in front of the door to slow down any other female staff coming in, and took off her jacket and shirt. She performed a crude bath in the sink, washing under her arms and splashing water up her face and neck, taking casual inventory of herself as she did so.
She was staying trim, but nursing Rosie had taken a toll on her breasts. Her olive skin with its freckles was still firm, but there were lines around her eyes and on her forehead now, and even a thread or two of white in the curling dark brown mass of her hair. “Lookin’ every day of thirty-five, lady,” she said aloud. “And those dark circles from stress and no sleep aren’t making you any prettier.”
Her reflection didn’t reply.
Her fingers brushed over a half-moon of scar near her collarbone—a perp had bit her there, but he hadn’t lived to do anything more. She’d taken more than her share of damage over the years in this job, and considering that, she was looking damn good.
Lei used a couple of handfuls of water to tame her hair into a fresh ponytail. She put on deodorant and then pulled her top back on, wishing she had remembered to restock the stash of clean shirts in her locker. On went the shoulder holster and her crumpled jacket. With the addition of a little concealer to brighten her tired eyes and some lipstick, she was ready to face that snooty lawyer Cunningham and that slimeball Ramsey, and bring her A game. The Peterson girls, and their dead father, deserved nothing less.
Chapter Forty-One
Ramsey was sitting at his desk in Seattle much as he’d been before, his face pale and creased, his hair disordered, when Lei’s video call to him went through. A half-empty snifter of amber liquid in front of him told Lei what he’d been doing since they last talked. Even as Lei watched, he threw back the remainder of his stiff drink.
Cunningham, standing behind Ramsey, tapped a paper he held. “We got your fax. I thought that we should push for more, but my client agrees to your offer of reduced charges. We’ve already signed and returned our copy.”
“Good.” They’d agreed Torufu would be “bad cop” for this interview, as Lei had already spent time building a sympathetic bridge to Ramsey. Torufu had taken off his jacket, the better to intimidate with his tatted-up arms in a short-sleeved shirt. “John Ramsey. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. I won’t tell you the part about an attorney, because I see you’re covered on that end.”
“Gentlemen, this is Detective Torufu, one of my partners on this case,” Lei said. “Thanks, Detective, I think we’re ready to roll, having spent a good deal of time agreeing to the legal necessities.” She made eye contact with Ramsey through the video screen. “Thanks so much for doing the right thing. Please tell us about what brought you to reach out to us today.”
“I got a call from Emma recently. She was distraught. She was still in the hospital, and the girls had left with a social worker for foster ca
re. She told me what happened, about the attack, and—what they did to her and Joanie, and their female crew member.” Ramsey shook his head, covered his eyes with a hand.
“Yes, I heard her story too. And I also helped rescue her and the girls from the shipping container where they’d been held by human traffickers. I took the Peterson girls to the hospital and supported them through the rape kit process with Joanie, and got their statements.” Lei allowed her voice to tremble. “Those young women will never be the same.”
“None of that was supposed to happen.” Ramsey met Lei’s eyes with his bloodshot gaze. “I just wanted Pete out of the way. It was supposed to appear an accident, so the insurance would pay out and Emma and the girls would be taken care of. But that guy . . .” He seemed to run out of words. His throat worked.
“You hired the pirates to kill Peterson,” Torufu growled.
“Pirates, no way! I did an online search. You know, on the Darknet.” Ramsey’s face flushed. “I’m not proud of it, okay? Pete used to be my friend. But he was getting more and more fanatical about the project. He wouldn’t let me back out or sell my part of it. I was going to be chained to this environmental nut forever, when I could have made millions and still helped the world!” Ramsey held out his glass to Cunningham. “Refill, please.”
“I can see how frustrating that would be,” Lei soothed.
“It was! You have no idea. So, I found this guy on the Darknet who advertised ‘high seas interventions for the right price.’ I knew the family was renting that yacht and I figured the assassin would make sure he’d fall overboard or something.” Cunningham handed Ramsey the glass and he sipped, pushing a hand through his hair. “I reached out to this guy. He sent me a link to a chat room. We agreed on a price, and I sent him the family’s itinerary. I told him what I wanted: no bloodshed, make it look like an accident. I had no idea he’d turn out to be the freakin’ Pirate King!”
“It’s like you unleashed the kraken.” Lei tried to lighten the mood, hoping to keep Ramsey talking. “You didn’t mean for all this horror to happen. We get that. But you told us you had information that could help us stop the Pirate King. A Darknet site and an untraceable chat room aren’t that helpful.”
“No, I have more info.” Ramsey took a fortifying gulp of his drink. “I started to worry this guy might come back to blackmail me. I wanted my own insurance on him—he knows me, I know him, we’re even. Like that. So, I had a tech guy who works for me track everything we did. I didn’t tell him who the guy was, of course, but he was able to determine the owner of the account I wired the payment into.” Ramsey blew out a breath. “I know the Pirate King’s name and where he lives—and it’s on the Big Island.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Lei picked her way on stockinged feet through the house to the shower. A soft nightlight in the living area illumined the room enough for Lei to navigate a minefield of Legos and Conan’s dog bed. The alert Rottie had woken at the sound of her key in the door, but only lifted his head from his paws and gave a soft whine of greeting as she passed. She stroked his head. “Good boy. No barking when it’s just me.” She dropped a treat she’d dug out of her purse onto his bed as a reward.
Lei shed her clothes in the bathroom and sighed with relief to be under the rainlike fall of warm water in the shower. It had still been another couple of hours after Ramsey’s confession for all the paperwork and arrangements for the man’s voluntary surrender to be processed. He and his lawyer were on a flight to Maui now for his surrender in person.
Captain Omura had ordered her to go home for a union-required break, now that they’d obtained an actionable lead on the Pirate King for the FBI, Coast Guard, and their team to follow up on. She was more than happy to do so, and had almost nodded off at the wheel as she navigated the windy, overgrown road toward their compound in Haiku.
She’d grabbed some fast food as she passed through Kahului, so immediate needs of the body were all taken care of as she slipped into a silky sleep tee and slid into bed, trying not to wake Stevens.
He was already awake, and reached out a long arm to draw her into her special spot along his side. “Hey. You’re home.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Yeah. Got a mandatory twenty-four hours off,” Lei mumbled, rolling onto her side so she could pillow her head in the notch between his neck and shoulder. She slid her hand under the light T-shirt he wore to sleep in, playing with his chest hair, and slid a leg up over his thighs. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Your grandpa’s doing good so far. You can catch up with him on the phone tomorrow.”
“Oh good. Gave me so much peace of mind to have you handling things.”
“Don’t forget our parents. They kept the house and kids going.”
“I know.” She sighed, his warm, solid presence melting her stress. “I’m so grateful. For everything.”
Lei didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing she knew, something wet and raspy on her cheek brought her hand up sharply. “Ew!” She pushed the dog away.
Kiet giggled as Conan backed up and woofed. “It’s almost lunchtime, Mama. Daddy sent us in to wake you up.”
“Guess I better get up then.” Lei sat up. “You sicced him on me, you rascal! Get up here so I can give you a hug.”
Kiet climbed up onto the bed and snuggled into her. Lei stroked his thick hair and squeezed his wiry body close. A sensitive child who’d struggled with anxiety in the past, he was doing well at the moment, and she loved to see his mischievous side. She tickled his ribs, making the little boy laugh and squirm. Conan barked with excitement. “Okay, okay. I’m getting out of bed.”
The boy and dog romped off, and Lei heard Kiet’s piping voice in the kitchen telling Stevens that Lei was on her way. He must be cooking, because delicious smells wafted through the open door. Lei’s belly gave a hungry rumble as she tossed the comforter aside and padded over to the dresser.
She glanced at herself in the mirror—her damp curls had dried in a riot around her head, but she didn’t have to go anywhere for a whole blessed day. She tugged on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and bundled her hair into a knot on the top of her head with a rubber band as she walked down the hall into the kitchen. “I smell something amazing.”
“Brunch for the family.” Stevens had his back to her as he scrambled a yellow mountain of eggs in their big cast-iron skillet. “Wayne and Mom are coming over in a few. We’ll eat outside at the picnic table.”
Rosie, sitting in her high chair, let out a high-pitched squeal. “Mama!” She banged her hands down on the plastic tray. “Up! Mama!”
Lei hurried over and carefully hugged her daughter, trying to avoid the egg mashed all over the baby’s hands and arms. “How’s my darling? Eat just a little more. Mama will help.” She sat down and picked up Rosie’s spoon. “Open wide, here comes your bite!”
“Kiet, can you set the table?” Stevens handed a stack of paper disposable plates to his son.
Kiet took the items. “C’mon, Conan, we’ll go get Grandma and Grandpa.”
Lei wiped Rosie’s face with a nearby dishcloth and addressed Stevens’s broad back. “Can I help?”
“Nope. Got it handled.”
“Then I’ll get this one dealt with so we can enjoy the meal.”
“You know she’s going to want to sit at the table and eat all over again.”
“Probably.” Lei grinned at her daughter. “You’re a bottomless pit, aren’t you, sweetie?”
Soon they were all seated around the picnic table outside. “Time for grace.” Wayne bent his head and led them in a simple blessing of the food, then Stevens gestured to bowls of eggs, pancakes, bacon and Portuguese sausage, and papaya and pineapple slices. “Eat up everyone. I wanted to just say thanks to you, Wayne and Mom, for helping out with the kids while we were dealing with so much recently.”
“We’re glad to have the time and energy to do it,” Ellen helped herself to the buffet. “Why do you think we live rig
ht next to you?”
“It’s really worked out so well. And that’s why I hope you’ll still feel the same that we’ll be adding my grandfather to the family compound,” Lei said.
“He’s agreed to sell his house and come over, after the scare he had with his fall,” Stevens said. “He has enough in the bank for us to buy him a tiny house so he can have his own space as long as he’s able.”
Wayne and Ellen both nodded. “We thought that would be the best solution,” Ellen said, “Since there are so few assisted living facilities on Maui. Does he need a caregiver?”
“Yes, right now, but he should be back to independent by the time he moves over,” Stevens said. “If not, we can hire someone—he has the resources for that, at least part-time, and he could generate ongoing money by renting or selling the Punchbowl house which is paid for.”
Lei gazed at her father. “Dad. Soga’s your father-in-law, and he and my grandmother were so bitter for so long about your marriage. He’s told me he’s let the past go, but have you? Is it okay to have him here, on the property?”
Her father’s gaze was warm and direct. “I understood where he was coming from with his anger toward me—but all of that is in the past. Soga is welcome in our home, in our lives. He is ohana—family. And family takes care of family.”