Motive ; One Last Day ; Going Viral Read online

Her next appointment wasn’t until 10:00. She could afford to give his ego a few extra seconds.

  “Two things you should know right off,” Kimo said. “I don’t give free passes, and I don’t do fluff pieces.”

  Confusion clouded Harris’s face for a moment, waiting for him to continue.

  “The first part is pretty straightforward. If this is because you guys are under investigation for election fraud, have been receiving illicit campaign donations, hell, you’re screwing the kid who hands out buttons for you, I don’t care. If you called me here to ask me to look the other way, that’s not going to happen.”

  A flush of indignation fired behind Harris’s cheeks. It took her a moment to calm down, swallowing the hostility she wanted to fire back at him. “I understand, and I assure you that’s not why I called.”

  “And the second part,” Kimo said, “should be obvious. Your back story – an Army wife, the mayor’s wife, now a crusading widow, all of it – while admirable and a great human interest piece, isn’t my bag.

  “Besides,” he added, pointing to the bookcase behind Harris’s head, “you’ve already written that story yourself.”

  There was an urge for Harris to turn and look in that direction, but she managed to refrain. The book wasn’t her idea, and she wasn’t terribly proud of the way it turned out. It was done at the suggestion of many consultants who claimed she needed something to catapult her as a legitimate candidate before jumping into politics.

  “That’s not why I called you, either,” Harris said, her voice cool. So far, Kimo had taken the upper hand in the conversation, but from this point on, it was her show.

  “So why am I here?” Kimo asked.

  Harris paused and took another drink from her coffee, making sure she had his attention. She had thought all morning on how best to spring this news on him, finally opting for the straight-ahead approach. “I have it on good authority that a body was found at the state capitol this morning.”

  There was no visible reaction from Kimo at all.

  “Bullshit,” he said. “I’ve been working all night. If the police had gotten a call, I would have heard about it.”

  Harris shifted her head from side to side, her white-blonde hair brushing against her shoulders. “The police weren’t called.”

  Kimo opened his mouth to speak before pausing, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

  “The body was found lying dead center of the mosaic on the capitol floor. Governor Randle didn’t want it getting out, presumably this close to the election, and ordered a complete cover-up.”

  “Bullshit,” Kimo repeated, leaning back in his chair. “The governor is crazy, but he’s not stupid. No way he concealed something like that, especially this close to an election.”

  Harris raised her palms. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “Yeah? And how do you know this?”

  “I’m sure a man like you can respect the need to protect sources,” Harris replied. “But I can assure you, it came from a very solid connection. If it was said this happened, it happened.”

  Kimo paused, staring up at the bookshelf behind Harris’s head. He tapped his thumb against his thigh, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Harris could see the questions forming in his head, his mind already trying to wrap itself around the enormity of what she was telling him.

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” Harris said. “All I know is it was a young woman, maybe early-20s.”

  “That’s pretty thin.”

  Harris shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve got a campaign to run here. You’re the reporter. I gave you a golden lead, where it goes is on you.”

  The statement came out a little harsher than planned, though the words did manage to find their intended mark. Kimo shifted his gaze from the bookcase to Harris, his eyes cold.

  “I still don’t buy it,” Kimo said. “This isn’t television. These sorts of things don’t happen in real life.”

  “That’s exactly what I said, but my contact was emphatic. Said it was true, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  “Huh,” Kimo said, rolling the words around his mind. “And you’ll have to forgive me if I find you a less-than-credible source right now, given what you stand to gain in all this.”

  “That’s fair,” Harris said, nodding. “I don’t expect preferential treatment here, or any treatment for that matter. I just happened to catch wind of something I’m now telling you.”

  “If that were really the case, you’d have called the police, not me,” Kimo countered.

  “And told them what? I think, based on nothing more than a late-night phone call, that my opponent is hiding a murder? That’s a good way to get myself a truckload of negative press.”

  “So you called me instead?”

  “You’re a well-respected reporter who’s been known to work with the police before. If this is something, you can bring them in.”

  Kimo nodded his head slightly. “And if it’s not?”

  “Then you were given a bad lead. Unfortunate, but not unheard of.”

  Again, Kimo worked at the inside of his jaw. Harris could tell that he was going through the required paces, feigning disinterest, acting skeptical, drawing the conversation out, but there was no way he wasn’t going to jump at this story. The possibilities were just too great, the implications too high, for him to resist.

  If she were a reporter, there’s no way she would have let it slide by.

  “If this does turn into something, and the police ask where I got the lead?”

  “Anonymous source,” Harris replied. Her tone was iron, making sure that he knew that part was non-negotiable. “Does that mean you’ll take a look into this?”

  Kimo dropped his feet to the floor and stood. He hefted his bag up and dropped the strap over his shoulder, the weight distorting his shirt across his chest.

  “You knew I would the moment you called me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kalani knew exactly when her target would show up, the kind of knowledge accumulated from years of observing routines. In the off chance that something had changed in recent times, she arrived a half hour early, parking her Jeep in the Sunset Beach parking lot. No more than two dozen spots marked out in faded yellow paint, she nosed the car into the last stall and turned it off.

  For a moment she sat still, listening to the engine tick. The ground sloped up from where she sat, blocking the ocean from view, but she could hear the waves hitting the beach. Salt spray was heavy in the air, filling her nostrils and settling on her skin.

  A smile traced her lips as she climbed out and stepped over the knee-high concrete wall separating the parking lot from the grassy bank of Sunset Park. In front of her, mounds of clean white sand sloped downward for 30 yards before dropping off abruptly into the sea, the result of a winter of pounding waves.

  Her smile grew as she stared out, a persistent breeze rolling off of the water and rushing over her face, blowing the hair away from her neck.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” a voice said from behind her, the sound familiar to her ears. She waited with her eyes closed before turning back toward the parking lot.

  There, standing in front of her, was Jon Ripowski.

  Nearly three years had passed since she’d last seen him, though the only differences were his hair was a little longer and his body a bit leaner. Otherwise, he still had the same blonde curls and dark skin, both accentuated by a heavy dose of sun. His blue eyes sparkled as a toothy grin stretched across his face.

  He was dressed in a winter wet suit, the top half off and hanging loose around his waist. The bottom half stopped just below the knee, his feet bare. A 7’ cutter surfboard was tucked beneath his left arm, the leash dragging along the ground behind him.

  “Kalani Lewis,” he said, ambling toward her. “How the hell are you?”

  “Hey, Rip,” Kalani said. She went straight to him, rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt his grip pull tight across her r
ibcage before being released, the two stepping back a few feet to assess one another.

  “My God,” Rip said, drawing the word out so it sounded closer to ‘Gawd,’ his Texas drawl on full display. “What’s it been now? Two, three years?”

  “Anyway,” Kalani said, nodding. “Not since the retirement party.”

  “That’s right,” Rip said, nodding. “The retirement party. How is your old man? Still doesn’t want to move back to Hawaii?”

  “Ha!” Kalani replied, the sound coming out more like a bark than a laugh. “He says every day he’s coming back, but we all know he never will. Pennsylvania is his home, no matter how cold it gets in the winter.”

  Rip shook his head from side to side as she talked.

  “And how have you been?” Kalani asked. She waved a hand at the board and his attire and said, “I see you’re still taking full advantage of that military schedule.”

  “Actually, I’m out,” Rip replied. “Signed on at 17, put in my 20, got out four months ago.”

  An exaggerated look of surprise came over Kalani, her eyes bulging. “You’re retired? At 37?”

  “Not a bad life, right?” Rip said. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun, letting it roll over his features. “Though if anybody asks, I signed up at 18 and got out at 38. You know how the Army can be about its rules.”

  Kalani knew about the rules far more than any person who had never served should. “Mum’s the word.”

  “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today? You don’t appear to be dressed for the water, though I’ve got another suit in the van if you’re interested.”

  “Oh God, the van,” Kalani said, bending to see past him. “I would have hoped that thing was long gone by now.”

  “Hey, don’t make fun of Vanna,” Rip said. “She might not look like much…”

  “She looks like something that’ll get you arrested while sitting outside an elementary school.”

  Rip laughed as he shook his head. “Did you have a purpose in coming out here today? Or were you just looking to make fun of my girl?”

  Kalani shifted herself back upright, the smile fading from her face. She waited as a pair of young men in wet suits with body boards sauntered by, each of them leering at her as they went. Once they were out of earshot, she nodded to a bench overlooking the beach. “You got a minute?”

  The smile fell away from Rip’s face as well, taking on a solemn expression. He nodded once, his gaze never leaving Kalani. “Alright.”

  In silence they walked over and took a seat, Rip leaning his board against the backrest and perching himself on the top edge. Kalani settled herself on the seat and turned toward him, one leg curled beneath her.

  She’d been trying to piece together all day how to best approach this, the right words still eluding her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm, her voice even.

  She was just here to ask for an old friend’s help. The worst he could do was say no.

  “This morning, Chief Tseng paid me a visit at home,” she began.

  Rip remained silent, watching her, waiting for her to get to the reason she was there.

  Kalani glanced up at his unblinking face, then turned and checked the area to make sure they were alone. On the opposite side of the park, two young girls threw a tennis ball to a small mutt. In the parking lot, a trio of overweight tourists in garish shirts piled into their rented convertible.

  Nobody paid them any mind.

  “Last night a body was found on the floor of the state capitol. Governor Randle wants to keep it quiet, so he called Tseng directly, told him it stays off the books.”

  “Damn,” Rip muttered. “Must have either been somebody important or foul play involved.”

  “Definitely wasn’t the first one,” Kalani said. “Not sure about the second. Either way, he told Tseng he wants me personally to look into it, report everything I find back to him.”

  Rip’s eyes widened. “You?”

  “Me.”

  “I mean, no offense,” Rip said, “but are you up for that just yet?”

  Kalani turned and looked out over the ocean, a dozen or so surfers dotting the water. She watched as they sat on the turquoise surface, nothing more than small specks rising and falling with the waves. “None taken. And, truthfully, I have no idea. But I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Mm,” Rip said, resting his elbows onto his knees and looking out at the ocean, the late day sun painting his body gold.

  Kalani stared at him, his attention shifted away from her. It was the first time since he arrived that he wasn’t peering directly at her, the opportunity she’d been looking for. If there was ever a moment when she could get her request out, this had to be it.

  Another deep breath before plunging straight ahead.

  “Look, I know this is strange, and please don’t feel obligated in the slightest. Chief Tseng said I could work with someone on this, but not from the force, past or present.”

  “Doesn’t leave a lot for you to choose from,” he said.

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Kalani said. She paused and took another breath, trying to put together exactly what she wanted to say.

  “My father always said you were the best MP who ever served under him. You know how the old man was, he didn’t just dole out praise like that.”

  A small turn of the head was the only response Rip gave.

  “You’ve been a friend of the family for years now,” Kalani said, “which makes this that much harder to ask. But at the same time, you’re one of the few people here I trust. If I’m going to get back out there, I have to have that.”

  There were a few more things she wanted to add, but held off.

  “Look, I know this is sudden,” she said. “I’m going to meet with the ME at Tripler tomorrow morning at 10:00. I’ll be having breakfast at Roy’s at 9:00. If you can join me, I’d love to have you. If not, it was good seeing you, Rip, and thank you for the flowers after Ben. . .

  “They meant a lot.”

  Her resolve gone, Kalani rose and turned away. “Don’t be afraid to stop by some night for a beer.”

  The request made, she walked back across the grassy expanse without turning around, climbed into her Jeep and eased away.

  The last thing she saw as she pulled onto the road was Rip, still seated on the back of the bench, his board resting by his side.

  Chapter Eight

  Danilo Cruz lifted the second 5-Hour Energy Drink to his lips and upended it, the few ounces of liquid caffeine sliding down his throat. He tapped the rim of the container against his bottom teeth to make sure it was completely empty before placing it in the cup holder beside him.

  The van he was now seated in was a loaner, a vehicle procured specifically for the task at hand. Despite his love for the new truck and all that it symbolized, it was also easy to recognize and remember. If anybody were to catch a glimpse of him as he did this, he needed to make sure they recalled something that could in no way be traced back to him.

  Danilo sat behind the wheel of the van and shook his head, willing the energy drink to do its job and jolt him awake. Years before, he had sworn off ever drinking coffee, a tribute to his parents who spent so much of their lives being forced to pick it. As the years on his odometer inched toward 40, though, he found himself more and more in need of an artificial jumpstart to the day.

  Especially when so many of his days seemed to be starting as the sun was going down.

  Curled up in a cage on the backseat was a small dog, a Westie-Terrier mix he picked up at an animal shelter on the windward side that morning. Black and white in color, it whined every few moments, its empty stomach rumbling.

  Neither the dog nor its hunger was of any of consequence to Danilo. The creature was for a specific purpose and would be cast aside once it was accomplished.

  Slumped low behind the wheel, Danilo was almost invisible as he sat and watched the park across the street. It had a small playground in the cen
ter with a series of athletic courts off to the right. On the left was a makeshift skate park, some young boys in hard hats and elbow pads plying their tricks.

  The park was chosen for two very specific reasons. First, he knew the area well. Just two blocks away from Roosevelt High School, he had spent many weekend evenings watching ballgames at nearby Ticky Vascellenos Stadium. Never before had he thought of the nights spent under the lights as performing reconnaissance, but it had turned out to be a nice side benefit.

  The second was the unique geographic advantage the park provided him. With an elongated design that curved around the base of Mount Tantalus, one end was virtually out-of-sight from the other. Even now as a group of adolescents rode skateboards on one side, they couldn’t see the young boys playing four-square at the opposite end.

  Two banks of lights provided illumination, placed to either side of the center fields, neither reaching the outer edges of the park. Behind everything was the heavily forested bank that rose straight up, culminating at Tantalus Crater 2,000 feet above. Less famous than Diamondhead or Punchbowl, it was formed after the demise of the Ko’olau Volcano, and the city of Honolulu was built on Tantalus cinders.

  All told, Danilo had four young boys in his sights, isolated in the dark, with nowhere to run.

  It was almost too easy.

  Danilo let the plan come together in his mind, a bit of adrenaline entering his system. Combined with the two energy drinks sloshing around in his stomach, his senses went into high alert, every nerve in his body agitated and ready for movement.

  A person with a moral compass more attuned to right and wrong might have felt remorse for what was about to happen, maybe even a bit of disgust. Danilo felt nothing of the sort. The task he was about to perform, much like the one the night before, was born of loyalty to his employer. Long ago he had sworn to do all that was required of him, the recent turn in job duties be damned.

  A humorless smile contorted his features as he stared out, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, gripping it tight, the scene as it was about to play out churning through his mind.