Motive Page 12

  She had just finished processing the death of two women, both younger than she was, in a most gruesome fashion.

  Even as she sat with her bare toes buried in the sand and watched Rip paddle out on the seven foot cutter he’d borrowed from an old surfing buddy that happened to be out for a morning ride, the joys of living Hawaii were lost on her. She didn’t focus on the fact that the sun was rising behind her or that the morning breeze carried the scent of hibiscus on it. Instead she tried to hone in on the bodies that were now headed north to Tripler to be processed, most likely revealing as little useful information as the previous one had.

  The smell of blood and death clung to her, permeating her clothes, saturating her hair. If she had any idea what she was being called to do when leaving the house she would have brought a change of clothes for the day ahead, but as it were she was stuck with what she had. Unlike Rip she was unable to strip down and jump into the ocean, allowing the warm saltwater to wash her clean.

  The thought was lodged in the front of her mind, ebbed with a tinge of jealousy, as her phone began to vibrate in her lap. A quick glance at the screen showed it to be Tseng, the man less than an hour removed from the shore beside her. A brief jolt of dread passed through her as she stared at the name, fearing what he might hold in store for her with the call.

  “Chief,” she answered simply, turning her head to the side to block out the wind blowing in from the ocean.

  “Yeah, I got a hit on that truck you asked me to look into,” Tseng said, skipping any kind of greeting and getting straight to business. His voice still bore the no-nonsense tone it had all morning, a direct result of a late night cocktail of strain and sleep deprivation.

  Kalani pulled her feet in closer and sat up straight, focusing in on his voice. “Yeah?”

  “I ran a search through our system for any vehicles matching that description,” Tseng said, the sound of papers shuffling audible over the line. “I got a hit back on a Leo Reyes, a resident of Makiki.”

  “Yeah?” Kalani asked again, rising up onto her knees. Without any pad or paper nearby she brushed the sand smooth beside her, hand poised above it to record whatever he said next. “Do you have an address?”

  Tseng read off a listing on Ke’eomoku Street less than a dozen blocks away, his tone never changing as he rattled off the information. “Needless to say, without a license plate number we can’t be sure this is the guy, but...”

  “Got it,” Kalani said, already knowing where he was going with the statement. He wouldn’t have given her the address without reasonable certainty it was the person she was looking for. If anybody should ask though, she got the information from a previous interview, not from him.

  “What was he in the system for?” Kalani asked, using her index finger to clarify the house number scrawled in the soft white powder.

  Again there was more paper rustling as Tseng rummaged for something out of reach. “Some low level stuff,” he replied, distraction obvious. “I had his jacket here a minute ago, but now it’s gone. Some pushing, petty theft, suspected trafficking.”

  Kalani nodded, the assessment pretty well in line with what she’d expected. Over the years she had come across enough men like him to know the type. Dirty enough that a person would never want their daughter bringing them home, but clean enough to stay clear of the real muscle in town.

  “Thanks, Chief,” Kalani said, letting him go chase one of the dozen other things he’d been complaining about all morning.

  Signing off the call, Kalani stood, sand falling from her jeans to the ground. Rising onto her toes, she waved an arm overhead to grab Rip’s attention, then used her phone to take a picture of the address scrawled in the sand. There was little chance she would forget it in the next ten minutes, but in the event they might need it later, she wanted to have it recorded.

  Using the ball of her foot, she wiped the notation clear and waited as Rip finished his run, the wave carrying him within just a few feet of the shore line. In practiced movements he hopped of the board, water splashing up around him as he bounded up the last few feet. Pulling the board onto the shore, he jammed the tail of it into the sand, fins digging themselves into the soft powder. “We got something?”

  “Tseng got us an address on the truck,” Kalani said, tossing him his t-shirt and jutting her chin towards the board standing tall. “That going to be okay there?”

  “Yeah,” Rip said, turning and extending a hand overhead, the gesture matched by someone straddling his own ride, bobbing along with the waves, a handful of other figures floating beside him. “Kenu said to just leave it. Everybody here knows it’s his.”

  Kalani accepted the explanation without comment and led the way back to her Jeep, Rip shaking out his wet hair and wiping sand away from his body as he went. Once there he pulled his shirt over his head and tugged jeans on over his board shorts, a bit of moisture soaking through the legs, before climbing inside.

  Kalani waited until he was strapped in before taking off, the four minute drive spent in silence, the morning sun just beginning to peek out from behind the Ko’olau Mountains. Traffic was still an hour away from becoming heavy, the roads barren and flowing fast. Reciting the address over and over again in her mind, Kalani found the street and number they were looking for with ease and pulled up alongside it, sliding to a stop on the curb.

  “So, where are we?” Rip asked, still finger combing his damp hair back from his forehead, both of them examining the structure before them.

  Unlike the apartment of Lauren Mann, Reyes lived in a free standing house. Designed in the old plantation style, it was a single story dwelling raised on stilts, a short staircase leading up to the front door. The roof was made of green corrugated metal and the outer walls of wood, everything painted a color that was once dark red but had since receded to light pink. Cracks were visible in at least two of the windows, termite and assorted wood damage encasing the door. Most of the grass on the lawn was brown and brittle, a bike lying on its side in the middle of it.

  Two automobiles sat in the driveway, both silent and empty. On the right was a low-slung Cadillac Eldorado, the mud-brown exterior badly in need of restoration. Beside it was an oversized yellow Dodge Ram, the silver rims polished to a shine.

  “This is the home of one Leo Reyes,” Kalani said. “I’m guessing you can see why we’re here.”

  “Yup,” Rip said, nodding as he examined the truck sitting in the drive. “Think he’s overcompensating for something?”

  Kalani arched an eyebrow without glancing over. “Could the same be said for someone that drives a van?”

  Beside her Rip pushed out an angry breath, pressing the passenger side door open. “I would argue a man has to be really confident in himself to drive a van.” He paused, looking through the open door at her. “Besides, she’s a classic, dammit.”

  Biting back a smile, Kalani climbed out and joined him on the sidewalk, the two of them pausing just a moment before heading up the lane. As they drew near Rip fell back a step, allowing her to take the lead and go to the door.

  The front steps creaked beneath her weight as she made her way to the top and curled her hand into a fist, pounding on the outer door with the palm of her hand. She struck the wood five times before stepping back and waiting, the house completely silent. After several long moments she raised her fist and pounded again, this time with even more vigor than the first.

  Somewhere inside the sound of movement could be heard, loud, heavy gestures consistent with someone being pulled from a deep sleep. Turning once to glance at Rip, Kalani stepped back and waited.

  The footsteps grew closer before stopping just short of the door, followed by a moment of silence as whoever was on the other side stood looking through the peephole. Out of habit Kalani pulled her badge from her hip and held it up, wagging it for the person on the other side to see.

  “Leo Reyes, we’d like to ask you some questions,” she said, her voice raised so anybody else was in the house could hear her
. She kept the badge out as she did so, rotating so that her weapon was also visible to whoever might be peering out.

  A long moment passed with no response before the door wrenched itself open with an audible gasp, the sound of paint and rubber fused by humidity pulling apart. Behind it stood a young woman no more than twenty, her hair a frayed mess. Her eyes were turned down into narrow slits, morning having come far earlier than she wanted. Around her was wrapped a thin blanket as she stood blinking at the harsh morning sunlight.

  “Leo’s not here,” she said, the words sounding pained as they exited her.

  “It’s barely seven a.m. and his truck is in the driveway,” Kalani said, fighting back an eye roll. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” the girl said. “But he’s not here.”

  From the side of the house the small, clear sound of a wooden frame opening could be heard. It creaked a single time, carrying through the morning, jerking Kalani’s head to the side, her senses on alert as she snapped towards it.

  Below her Rip took off at a dead run, his wet denim making a whishing sound as he sprinted across the front lawn. For a moment Kalani stood rooted in place, watching him tear across the dead grass, before a short man with dark brown skin darted from the side of the house. Oversized key ring dangling from his hand, he was dressed only in cargo shorts and sneakers, pumping hard for his truck.

  Watching the two intersect with each other was like seeing two animals collide on a nature documentary. Kalani waited as Rip intercepted him two steps away from the hood, hefting his small body up from the ground and depositing him chest-first against the front of the grille. His entire weight smashed down onto the truck, the metal beneath him groaning from the impact.

  “Man, what the hell are you doing?” Reyes yelled, thrashing beneath Rip’s grip, his feet swinging, trying in vain to find the ground beneath him. “You can’t just show up and start tossing me around at my own house!”

  Behind him, Rip pressed his forearm into Reyes’s back, pinning his body against the chrome adorning the front of the truck. “Shut up. From where I’m standing it looks like I can do whatever I want.”

  He turned and looked up at Kalani, shaking his head, disgust on his features. “Why do they always try to run?”

  Matching the head shake, Kalani turned towards the girl standing just inside the door, her jaw hanging agape. “Put some clothes on, we’re going to need to talk to you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  A single wooden chair was brought in from the dining room and placed in front of the television. It was older, the legs and seat on it both chewed up, the varnish faded from years of use. Still, it was in better repair than the carpet it rested on, a threadbare covering that was once beige but had since been reduced to an indeterminate color somewhere between brown and grey, stains splotching the surface that seemed to represent every bodily fluid and beverage on the planet.

  Seated on the chair was Leo Reyes, his mouth clamped shut, his nostrils flaring as he pushed and pulled air through them. His hands were clenched into tight balls, the veins on his arms standing out beneath his skin as he stared from Rip to Kalani and back again.

  The earlier comment by Rip about the truck being overcompensation for something had turned out to be truer than either could have guessed. Even in his sneakers, Reyes was no more than five-four, his body tipping in at a svelte one twenty five. A lack of body fat made his abs stand out beneath smooth brown skin, though his diminutive stature was void of any other muscle tone.

  “Man, what the hell do you guys think you’re doing?” Reyes snapped. “I’ve got rights you know.”

  “Your rights went out the window when you tried to run,” Rip said, standing across from Reyes with his arms folded over his chest. Behind him sat the girl that had answered the door a few minutes before, her waif-like body wrapped in a beach cover and pressed back into a faded plaid couch.

  “We just have some questions for you,” Kalani said, keeping her tone neutral, standing far enough to the side that Reyes couldn’t look at she and Rip both at the same time. Given the state of the carpet she elected to stand over using the dark blue chair behind her, fearful of what might reside on its surface.

  “Man, I’m not answering shit,” Reyes said, putting extra emphasis on the last word. “I don’t didn’t do nothing, I don’t know nothing.”

  “Then why’d you run?” Rip asked, inching a half step closer.

  Reyes pressed his lips together tight and peered up at Rip, giving the impression that he might leap out of his chair at any moment. “Because you’re cops. Everybody knows a cop comes banging on your door at the crack ass of dawn, means they about to pin something on you.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Rip said, twisting at the waist to look at Kalani. “You know that?”

  After watching Rip slam Reyes into the hood of his own truck, Kalani was content to let him take the role of bad cop. She stared down at the shirtless young man before her without looking at Rip, her hands hanging neutral by her side. “We have some questions about Lauren Mann.”

  “Don’t know her,” Reyes said, keeping his gaze aimed at Rip, the words coming too fast to be believable, a conditioned response.

  Expecting the answer, Kalani slid the photo of Mann out from the file in her bag and extended it towards him. She took two steps forward, putting the photo just a few feet from his face. “How about now?”

  “Said I don’t know her,” Reyes said, still glaring at Rip, his eyes never once looking at the picture.

  There was two distinct ways the next few minutes could play out. The first was to let Rip flex some more muscle on Reyes, forcing him to look at the picture, demanding he give a straight answer to a question. The move would no doubt further bruise his already wounded pride, making anything he said suspect at best.

  Kalani had seen the kind many times before. Somebody of a decreased physical or mental capacity that made up for it by buying an oversized truck, surrounding himself with people they thought were inferior to them. Predicting how he would act in this situation was a pretty safe assumption.

  The second way to handle the situation was by employing something such people rarely ever expected. Using those they kept around as a means to buffeting their egos against them.

  Rotating on the ball of her foot, Kalani kept the picture extended at arm’s length and held it up for the girl on the couch to see. “How about you? Do you know this girl?”

  Without even realizing it, a flash of recognition passed over the girl’s face. Her eyes widened and her mouth turned upward in a half smile. “Oh yeah, Bunny. I like her, she’s nice.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when Reyes jumped to his feet. He extended a finger, his body taut. “Shut the hell up!”

  The soles of his sneakers just touched down before Rip slammed a hand into his chest, forcing him back into his chair, the sound of flesh hitting flesh ringing through the room. “Listen here, Leo. We’re going to get the information we came for. Now either we can do this here, or we can drag you both to the station and do it.”

  Palpable animosity rolled off of the smaller man as he sat and seethed, staring up at Rip. “Man, you ain’t got nothing on me.”

  “We’ve got a witness that said you were last seen arguing with a girl that was murdered two nights ago,” Rip said, taking another half step forward. “And we’ve got you trying to run this morning. I’d say that’s more than enough to earn you a weekend pass to the clink.”

  Reyes opened his mouth to speak, but for the first time thought better of it, instead resuming his fuming on the chair.

  “Who’s Bunny?” Kalani asked, shifting the conversation back to the girl on the couch.

  A long moment passed as she stared across at Reyes, fear plain on her features, saying nothing.

  “It’s okay,” Kalani added. “You’re not in any trouble, we’re just trying to figure out who did this.”

  Again the girl looked over at Reyes, unsure how to proc
eed. After a moment Rip took a step to the side, interrupting the sightline between the two, arms still folded across his chest. “It’s okay, honey. Just tell us what you know.”

  Without the visage of Leo staring daggers at her the girl seemed to gain a tiny bit of resolve. She looked at Rip a long moment before shifting her attention to Kalani. “We called her Bunny, short for Snow Bunny. You know, because she was haole.”

  Kalani had put that together long before the girl said it, but nodded along anyway, acting as if it were an important piece of data. At this point the girl was talking, and she needed to keep it that way.

  “I didn’t even know her name was Lauren,” the girl said, looking off for a moment before nodding. “It makes sense though. She seemed like a Lauren.”

  “She never told you her name?” Rip asked, his eyebrows pinched together a bit in surprise.

  The girl flicked her gaze at Rip, making sure Reyes was still out of sight, before shifting back to Kalani. “None of us use our real names here. Leo gives us new ones when we join the team. Says it’s easier that way.”

  Kalani felt her eyelids slide shut for just a moment, an involuntary reaction to the girl’s admission. Given what Dr. Song had said about the amount of sexual trauma Lauren had endured, and the appearances of Reyes and the girl, it was clear that he was a low level pimp. The jolt wasn’t in hearing the words out loud, it was in witnessing the spell that the girl was under. She had no idea what had been done to her, of the peril her situation had put her in.

  A long, sharp exhalation from Rip pulled Kalani’s eyes open. She watched as he rotated at the waist and glowered down at Reyes, shaking his head from side to side.

  “Easier, huh?” Rip asked. “And what do they call you?”

  “Lo Mein,” the girl answered, not a trace of irony in her voice, “because I’m Chinese.”

  The crease between Rip’s eyebrows grew deeper as the scowl increased on his face. Kalani could sense the tension begin to emanate from him, rolling off in palpable waves. She needed to steer the conversation towards a conclusion before the situation became one she could no longer control, or even worse didn’t want to.