Torch Ginger (30 page)

Mac reached up, sawing at the rope.

Lei barely had time to register movement out of the corner of her eye before Mac hurtled into her with a cry, knocking her into Jenkins. They both lost grip on the slick body, falling to the ground, and Lei heard the clatter of her pistol flying out of the holster. She scrambled onto her hands and knees, crawling backward, trying to see, even as she felt on the ground for the weapon.

Chapter 37

A tall, dark shape, backlit by the torch, swung a staff in a hypnotic arc. Mac was down—still—but Jay Bennett’s body swung back and forth, gently spinning.

“Chalcedony. I don’t like being called Cal anymore.” Voice a light tenor and oddly conversational. “I told you that, Mac.”

“Chalcedony. And his brother, Jazz—for jasper.” Lei whispered the names of stones found at the disappearance sites. She’d met Jazz’s brother in the Health Guardian, and he’d told them who he was every time he took a victim. She inched backward, still feeling for the gun, as Jenkins stood up beside her, his voice booming in the cave.

“Drop your weapon! Police!”

The staff swung, and Lei heard the crack as it connected with Jenkins’s weapon, the grunt of pain he gave as it was knocked out of his fingers. Cal followed it, moving in on Jenkins. He stalked forward, the club whirling, just a blur in the dim light—the man obviously had some martial arts training.

Lei’s fingers connected with the Glock and she brought it up.

She couldn’t see what was happening enough to take a shot—she might hit Jenkins. She heard muffled thuds and grunts as she stood, backed toward the cave opening—she needed the light behind her.

The end of Cal’s staff caught Jenkins in the ribs, and she heard the punch of air leaving his lungs as he went down, saw the tumbled legs. As he turned her way, she saw that Cal’s bare torso gleamed with kukui nut oil and he wore a tapa-cloth
malo
.

They must have interrupted his sacrificial ceremony.

“Drop your weapon! Police!” She didn’t recognize the scream as her own.

She could see his eyes now, and they were ringed with white. He moved forward, the staff in a ready position at chest height. Light gilded bare, muscled arms as he emerged like a nightmare from the dark.

She pulled the trigger. The report smacked her ears in the confined opening of the cave, deafening her. She’d hit him in the shoulder, and he reeled back but kept coming.

“You think you can stop me. No one can.”

She felt more than heard the words, vibrating between them, as he took another step.

She shot him again, this time in the chest. He dropped the club, covering the wound, but kept coming, one hand reaching for her. Those white-ringed eyes filled the horizon, their expanded pupils darkening her vision.

He was almost on her.

She shot him one more time.

He plummeted like a felled tree, landing on her—a weight like a blow. She jumped back with a cry, resisting the urge to empty the clip into him as he hit the ground at her feet. She sucked a breath, holding the gun on him.

He was finally done moving.

She holstered the weapon and ran over to Jenkins. He had a fine red bubble on his lips. It looked black in the dim light.

“Think my ribs are stove in,” he said. More blood. More bubbles.

“Just relax. I’m calling for help,” she said, thumbing open her phone. No reception. She ran outside the cave. The light hit like a blow. She dialed Stevens because her finger knew that key on the pad— and the helicopter on the mesa was their best way down.

“Lei, we’re in the middle of something.” Stevens sounded annoyed.

“Send the copter down—J-Boy’s injured. Emergency.” Adrenaline jittered her voice.

“You’re not making sense. Calm down.”

“Where are you?” Icy tone, Marcella’s voice. The agent must have grabbed the phone. “We heard you were coming up on the trail.”

“I shot the suspect—the unsub. He’s dead, but Jenkins’s injured—badly. Our guide’s down too. Jay Bennett’s in here, strung up. Don’t know if he’s alive. Fly down here. We need medical assistance!”

“Texeira, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Lei could hear the accelerating whine of rotors through the phone.

“And I’ll do it. Just get here as soon as you can—I think Jay’s lung is pierced.”

“Repeat, where are you? Need a landmark.” Good, they were coming. She took a breath, getting control, and looked around.

“We’re about two-thirds of the way to the top. Small clearing by a cliff. I’ll be signaling.”

“Roger that.”

Lei ran back into the cave and knelt beside Jenkins.

“Help’s on the way.” His breathing was like a kettle on the boil. “I’m going to elevate your feet.” She put a rock under them.

“Cold,” he muttered.

“You’re in shock. Try to relax. They’re coming in a helicopter, but I have to go outside to signal. Okay?”

He nodded and closed his eyes, pale as a mushroom. Mac was up, and he was sawing at the rope around Jay’s feet. She ran forward and lifted Jay’s head and shoulders just in time before his feet hit the plastic tarp. She didn’t want to think about what that tarp was there for.

“You okay? Where’d he hit you?” Lei asked.

Mac sawed at the duct tape on the young man’s arms.

“Head. Glancing blow or I wouldn’t be here anymore. Cal’s always been good with his staff.”

Lei ripped the duct tape off Jay’s mouth, set her ear against his oiled chest. “Still got a heartbeat. Can you get his breathing going? I’ve got to go signal the helicopter.”

“I’ll try.” Mac tipped Jay’s head and blew into his mouth as Lei ran back outside, tearing off the holster and man’s shirt. She waved the shirt in the center of the clearing, hearing the percussion of the chopper. Her phone rang and she answered it, still waving.

“Lei, we can’t find you.” Stevens.

“I can hear you. Down and to the right.”

Already her arm ached from waving.

“We see you.” Stevens’s voice in her ear was a lifeline.

“I love you,” she blurted as the helicopter descended.

“Adrenaline talking. We’re almost there.”

The copter landed, the roar of the rotors overwhelming. Prop wash stung her eyes with a million flying particles. She withdrew into the cave opening.

The copter doors flew back. Marcella was the first out, running to her, hunched beneath the whirling blades. Her eyes widened.

“You hit?”

Lei looked down. Blood splattered her arms and torso. She could only imagine her face.

“The other guy.” She pointed to the face-down corpse inside the cave entrance. “Jenkins’s inside. He’s bad off—I think a broken rib pierced his lung—and Bennett’s barely alive.”

Marcella, Rogers, and the pilot moved past her. Stevens ran toward her, and she felt her knees wobble for the first time. He folded her in against him, blood and all.

“You hurt?”

“Not my blood,” she said into his shirt.

“You did good. You always do good.”

“I love you,” she mumbled against his shirt. “I really, really do.”

“Adrenaline talking,” he said again, but he squeezed her so hard her bones creaked.

Marcella reappeared. “Looks like you’re right about the rib. He’s unconscious. We have to try to keep him as still as possible. But Bennett seems to be coming around.”

The whine of another helicopter filled the air; they looked up, but there was nowhere for it to land. Marcella waved it off, talking into her cell phone.

They loaded Jenkins and Bennett into the helicopter, stabilizing them as best they could.

“Who’s the dead guy?” Marcella turned to Lei, cell phone still against her ear.

“Cal Haddock. Real name Chalcedony,” Lei said. “Brother of Jazz Haddock.” Marcella’s eyes widened.

“Fuck me,” she said. “Goddamn it—right there in front of us. Bet Jazz is short for Jasper. Gimme a thumbnail sketch of what happened, so Rogers and I have something to go on.”

Lei did so while Marcella unloaded a black crime scene kit out of the copter. She and Rogers snapped on gloves as the pilot warmed up the engine. Marcella opened an evidence bag.

“Weapon in here.” Lei took the Glock out of her waistband and dropped it in the bag. Marcella sealed it and put it in the kit. “You’ll get it back as soon as we check it for ballistics. You, Mac, and Stevens take Bennett and Jenkins to the hospital. We’re securing the scene.”

Chapter 38

Lei stood against the gray backdrop in the interview room, one wall of which was lined with light-absorbent felt. Becky’s face was expressionless as she photographed the blood patterns that decorated Lei—front, back, side view, front of arms, back of arms. Lei felt herself sway as the flash burned her eyes.

She closed them, and immediately saw the purple face of barely alive Jay Bennett and Jenkins coughing blood. She opened her eyes and the flash seared them again.

At least it looked like they were both going to live. “Almost done,” Becky said. “You can sit now.”

Lei sat. Becky got out her evidence collection kit, using sticky pads to collect gunshot residue from her hands and swabs to swipe beneath her nails, take samples of the blood on her face and arms, and a small comb to collect any further trace out of her hair.

“Not much here,” Becky said, gently tugging the comb through the short curls on Lei’s head. Her mouth was near Lei’s ear as she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m almost done.”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Now for the clothes. Please remove your outer garments and put them in here.” Becky pushed a large paper evidence bag over to Lei. Hoping the surveillance camera was off, Lei shimmied out of the cargo shorts and put them in the bag along with the contents of her pockets and her Ni`ihau shell necklace.

“My top’s got trace on it, but I need a shirt,” Lei said.

“You get mine.” Becky handed her a bright pink tee emblazoned with Mickey Mouse and a pair of sweatpants. “It’s either these or prison orange.”

“Mickey Mouse it is.” Lei took off the crochet bikini top and whipped the T-shirt on as fast as she could. “Thanks.”

“Camera’s not on, and I have the blinds rotated.” Becky read her mind. “Captain said to do everything by the book since this is the FBI’s investigation, so I have to leave you in here until one of them gets here to take your statement. Can I bring you anything?”

“Seriously, I could eat my arm I’m so hungry. Can I get food, something to drink?”

“Way ahead of you.” Stevens came through the door with a bag from Burger King. The smell of fries, familiar and thick, made Lei light-headed with hunger, and she reached for the bag, stopping when she saw Becky’s wide eyes and squinched-up lips. The lab tech handed her a pile of antibacterial wipes from the dispenser by the door.

“You never know where that blood has been,” Becky said.

“Oh my God, you’re so right.” Lei took the wipes and scrubbed her face, neck, and arms, the chill welcome. Becky collected the samples and evidence bags, putting everything on a steel tray.

“See you guys later.”

“Bye,” Stevens said. He sat next to Lei, opening the Burger King bag as she rubbed her hands with the wipes. Lei noticed the wistful way Becky looked back at him as she closed the door, but Stevens didn’t.

Lei bit into her Whopper, closing her eyes in bliss.

“I love you,” she said when she could speak. “Now I know I do.” She sucked half her root beer down in one long draft.

“Starvation talking,” Stevens said, addressing his burger. His dark brows were drawn down. He didn’t look at her.

“Becky said the camera’s off,” Lei said, finishing the last of her meal. It hadn’t taken long.

“Oh yeah?” He got up and came back with several more of the wipes. She closed her eyes as he rubbed her face gently, straddling the bench as she sat. He held them up. “You’re still a little scary.”

A brownish smear of blood marked the wipe and he tossed it into the trash. “You were saying?”

“I love you. And the camera’s off.”

She moved in on him, sliding her hands up his arms to encircle his neck, pulling him down to her. His lips, when they touched hers, were hesitant, and she teased at them, light kisses until he let his arms come down, wrapping her close, and this time she wasn’t sure who was consuming whom and didn’t care anymore.

He pushed her back gently, his hands still caressing her arms, hips, wherever he could touch.

“What’s all this? Posttraumatic stress? The urge to merge after a near-death experience?”

“That’s rude,” she said with dignity. “Okay, maybe a little of that, but I left you a message that—um. I realized I loved you.”

“That bit about melodrama? I was supposed to get ‘I realized I love you’ from that?”

“Maybe not.” She picked at one of the peeling hippie tats on her wrist. “I’m not good at this part.”

“I know.” He sighed. “C’mere.”

She was wound around him and sitting in his lap when the door opened.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Bob Arizumi, Flea’s older brother and Lei’s union attorney, entered, horn-rims askew. “I hope you didn’t tell them anything at the site.”

Stevens stayed composed as Lei stood up and straightened the Mickey Mouse tee.

“Just a thumbnail sketch so they could reconstruct the scene.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything. Let the evidence speak. It always tells a clearer story than the witness.”

“I had to tell them something.”

“That’s why the captain called me. Whenever there’s a shooting, you shouldn’t say anything to anyone without a representative present.”

The door opened again, FBI this time. “How’re you holding up? Okay for a few questions?” Marcella asked. She’d had time to clean up from the site and looked beautiful and composed, every smooth, glossy hair in place.

“Ready when you are.” Lei kept her voice steady. She felt neither beautiful nor composed.

“My client is just going to make a brief statement. She hasn’t even been able to take a shower,” Bob said. His intimidation stare didn’t appear to be working. Maybe it was the horn-rims. Marcella ignored him, opening the door for another gray-suited agent.

“This is Special Agent LaSota. She’s a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Lei shook the new agent’s hand. The psychologist had a soft grip and hard, dark-olive eyes.