Her partner narrowed his eyes at her. “Sounds like a plan. Give you two a chance to catch up.”
Lei watched in helpless frustration as Ken walked away and got into the black-and-white with Gerry and they fired it up. Stevens opened the door of the SUV. “Well? Coming?”
“Shit,” she muttered, and got into the passenger side. This couldn’t go well.
Chapter 12
Lei slammed the door a little hard, and he slanted her a glance out of those blue, blue eyes.
“You know we have to talk.”
“Where was the craft spotted?” Lei had chosen her tack—and it was to stick to business.
He turned the key and the Bronco roared into life. “North shore. We can head out toward Haiku. I know of some estates out there with lawns big enough to land on.” He headed the Bronco toward broad two-lane Hana Highway, bordered by waving sugarcane. “So. You need to know something.”
“I don’t need to know anything. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know I don’t. I want to tell you anyway.” His voice had gone as stubborn as hers. “Anchara was going to get deported. I couldn’t let that happen, after all she’d done for the investigation, after all she’d gone through on that ship.”
Lei turned halfway to look at his set jaw, mirrored sunglasses down and hiding his thoughts. “I’m sure it was a real hardship to rescue the beautiful sex slave.”
“You know what? I’m sick of that shit, from you and everybody. Anchara doesn’t deserve it, and you of all people know that!”
Lei did know that. Anchara Mookjai, twenty-four years old, formerly of Phuket, Thailand, had fled an abusive marriage to take a job on a cruise ship—only that wasn’t what the contract had really involved. Smuggled on and off the ship in the ports of call, kept locked up on board, she’d found herself in any woman’s nightmare—and had taken the chance for escape when it came. Her testimony had helped put away a whole layer of human traffickers working out of the cruise ships.
Not only that, but she’d proved herself to be a brave, resilient, and kind human being whom Lei liked more than she wanted to.
Lei turned and looked out the window. The view, of kiteboarders and surfers on the wind-whipped sea, green foothills robed in rippling grass, and the sweep of the twelve-thousand-foot Haleakalā volcano, was familiar. She’d driven that route every day to work as a detective at the Haiku Police Station before she’d taken the opportunity to join the Bureau.
“I do know that. Anchara is…” Lei found her throat closing, and she swallowed hard. “She’s a good person.”
“Yes, she is. And she was getting deported, back to that abuser and the family who sold her to him. And you’d gone, with not so much as a wait-for-me commitment. In fact, you seemed eager to give my ring back and be done with me. Moving on to bigger and better things.” He bit off the words as if they tasted bad.
“I had to do what I had to do.” Lei set her own jaw. “But I never thought you’d do something crazy like get married! I mean—I know it wasn’t fair, but I always planned to come back. For us to be together when I did.”
“Same as before, right? Whatever suited you. No commitments. Well, I couldn’t keep living like that. Anchara understands that.”
“I can imagine.” Lei let the bitterness into her voice. “And I imagine she really shows how much she understands you. So you’re not trying to tell me this is some sort of ‘in name only’ marriage, are you?”
“No. It’s not. We’re making a go of it.” Stevens’s mouth was tight, his hands white-knuckled.
Lei felt the last shred of hope bleed out of her—a balloon deflating, a weakening in the knees and guts, an utter draining of energy leaving nothing but a taste like ash in her mouth.
Stevens’s hands clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. “You know what? I dreaded this moment—but I feel better seeing you, knowing you haven’t changed. Hope you’re enjoying the Bureau and that it keeps you warm at night.”
“You can bet I’m not enjoying it alone.” The lie didn’t sweeten the taste in her mouth, but the thought of Anchara in Stevens’s arms, the way he obviously cared about her and defended her—she felt her chest constrict even further in the hot tightness of the Kevlar vest. Spots danced in the corners of her vision; darkness roared in around the edges. She pinched her leg as she heard his voice come from far away.
“I don’t know why I tried to talk to you.”
She leaned her forehead on the cool glass of the car window and concentrated on getting air into her lungs.
The radio crackled. “Come in, Mobile Unit Seventeen.”
Stevens picked up the handset. “This is Seventeen. Over.”
“This is Dispatch. We have a burglary in progress at 1879 Kai Huki Road in Haiku. Silver ultralight spotted in the area. Alarm company called it in.”
“Roger that.” Stevens hung up the handset. “Punch in the address on the GPS, will you?”
“On it.” She leaned over to program in the GPS, using that moment of concentration to rein in her emotions. “It’s only a few more miles up ahead. Turn right off of Hana Highway.” She speed-dialed Ken’s cell. “Did you get the call?”
“We’re heading there, too.” Ken’s voice was tight with excitement. “Seems like we’re closing in.”
They roared down the two-lane road, lights flashing. Lei felt adrenaline replace the panic that had curtailed her breathing as Stevens cranked a right turn onto a long drive leading uphill and away from the ocean. Rolling pastureland dotted with light green palmate-leaved kukui trees opened up a vista on either side of them.
“Lots of open area to land,” Lei said.
“Yeah.” The radio crackled again, and Stevens picked up. “Mobile Seventeen here.”
“This is Dispatch. We have two more units on the way.”
“Roger that—anyone at the residence yet?”
“Negative, Seventeen.”
Stevens glanced at Lei, eyes alight with the warrior gleam she knew and loved. “Looks like we’ll be first on the scene.”
Lei looked down, hiding the way that warrior light and the accompanying preraid adrenaline sent a pang straight to her libido by checking her weapon and badge as she scanned for the turnoff to the house. “Left here.”
The Bronco’s tires spat gravel as Stevens took the turn without braking, and they barreled down a narrow one-lane road lined with red ti plantings. Lei spotted a roof ahead, gleaming cobalt-blue tile. “There’s the address.”
They cranked into the driveway, roared forward—and came to a screeching halt at a huge iron scrollwork gate, shut across the driveway. A combination pad on a black metal plinth seemed to mock them.
“Dispatch, the gate is locked!” Stevens yelled into the handset. “Get us a code from the alarm company!”
“Roger that.” Dispatch was dispassionate as always. Lei jumped out of her side of the vehicle.
“Gotta be a way over or through.” She found a side gate disguised among the scrollwork, jiggled the handle as she looked up at the six-foot arrow-tipped black fence. Miraculously, the hidden handle opened.
“Stevens! This way!” He followed, both of them with weapons drawn, running toward a gracious-looking mansion built in descending levels down the grassy slope of a gigantic lawn. They were within a hundred yards of the house when Lei heard a sound like a sewing machine on steroids—a high-pitched bobbling whine.
“Son of a bitch!” she cried, as the Hummel appeared and bumped away from them, heading downhill on the lawn and picking up speed. It lifted into the air flawlessly, the sun gleaming mercury on its toylike, perfect airplane shape.
“Goddamn it!” Stevens shouted.
Stevens’s cell phone rang. “That better be the goddamn code,” he snarled. “Suspect took off right in front of us.”
Lei didn’t have the heart to follow him as he headed back down the pebbled driveway to open the gate and drive up to the house. She ripped open the Velcro and loosened the Kevlar, wishing she could take it off, but they still needed to check the house. Setting her hands on her hips, she watched the Hummel become a tiny silver speck and disappear over the treetops.
She trudged back toward the mansion as Stevens drove the Bronco up the driveway, closely followed by a blue-and-white MPD Crown Victoria and the black-and-white SUV driven by Bunuelos and Ken Yamada.
Stevens got out, still talking on his cell phone as he called in the BOLO for the Hummel and its general direction.
“Almost had him.” Ken folded his arms and surveyed the acres of rolling lawn. “How many of these kinds of places are out here?”
“Too many,” Bunuelos said.
“Well, let’s get our kits and see what he left behind.” Lei and Ken secured their crime kits and followed Stevens.
“If we’d had that gate code, we might have made it,” Stevens said. “We could have used the Bronco to head him off.”
“We’ll get him next time,” Lei said. It felt strange to be comforting him so close to their angry words, but familiar, too. She followed him as he opened one side of a magnificent fifteen-foot-high double door made of carved ebony inserts paneled in some exotic red hardwood. The hallway was polished cement, gleaming a dull metallic gray under their feet. They crossed scatter rugs of animal skin—giraffe, zebra, and before the massive fireplace of river stones set in cement, a snarling lion’s head still attached to the whole hide.
“Very animal unfriendly. Hope the unsub found some good shit to take with him,” Lei said. Animal abuse pissed her off almost as much as child abuse. She was respecting the Smiley Bandit more every day—his courage, resourcefulness, and choice of targets appealed to her, even as frustration dogged their pursuit.
“Let’s check all the rooms. Spread out.” Ken shot her a narrowed glance. Even in front of her old Maui compatriots, Ken was holding her to the high FBI standard that called for no unseemly joking or humor regarding the investigation. She tightened the Kevlar back down and followed him as he angled into a nearby hallway. Bunuelos and Stevens took the opposite wing.
It took a good half hour to search the sprawling mansion with its many subareas connected by cement-floored hallways and sets of stairs into each level. The combination of Balinese furnishings, African art and natural stone and wood superimposed on modern angles continued throughout the stunning design.
Lei and Ken found the heart of the house at last, a central and highly modern office. Stevens joined them at a cockpit of computers centered on a burled-wood desk.
“Homeowner says he had a safe in the desk,” Ken said from his cell phone. Lei squatted down, opened a cabinet in the desk. It contained a small safe, its door open, a loop of seed pearls hanging out.
“Looks like the Bandit figured this one out, too. What does the homeowner say about the combo?” Stevens asked.
“It’s a cheap fire safe. This one looks tooled.” Lei pointed to the scratch marks around the bent door.
“Homeowner Rick Rhodes confirms that.” Ken turned off his phone. “They just kept five thousand dollars in there and some knickknacks for when they came on vacation.”
Ken got an inventory list faxed and photographed as Lei got out the fingerprint powder. “Looks like he got away with a little more than five grand this time. Be interesting to see if he donates it.”
“I want to see what food items he took.” Lei walked back into the kitchen, a large bumped-out area off the great room, its towering ceilings pierced by skylights that let squares of sun onto the polished floor.
The familiar hook-mouthed smiley face grinned at her from the steel door of the refrigerator. Still gloved, she opened it. Stevens had followed her, and they both looked into the empty interior.
“Rhodes said it’s not stocked,” Stevens said.
“He’ll be getting hungry then. Did they have anything in the pantry?”
“Some canned goods.”
Folding louvered doors opened into a deep, shelf-lined room. A neat rack at the back held hanging cleaning tools. The shelves were stacked high with jars and cans of food, and Lei and Stevens moved in, scanning for anything apparently out of place.
“Dammit. This means he was able to stock up, though he couldn’t carry much with him in the Hummel.” Lei was painfully aware of Stevens’s nearness in the narrow space, imagining she could feel heat off his body as he stood close. He’s married and he loves her, she told herself firmly, but her knees were wobbly. Her heart pounded as she turned back toward him, a mere six inches separating them in the dim, spicy-smelling closet. “Nothing for us here.”
Stevens’s shadowed eyes lingered on her upturned mouth for a long moment. “I guess not.” He spun and strode back out.
Lei followed, haunted by remembering the feel of their very first kiss—light as the brush of a moth—at a time when anything more would have scared her into running.
“Don’t think this scene is going to tell us anything new,” Ken said out in the great room. “What we need to do is keep the unsub running, keep the pressure on. Keep him from refueling, getting any food, and chase him into a corner.” As Lei appeared, he gestured to his phone, held it up. Apparently, her boss was on speakerphone. “Agent Texeira and Lieutenant Stevens are present. MPD has been very helpful. We’re getting on the road ASAP. The Hummel continued north, so it seems like he’s headed into Hana. He didn’t get much here.”
They clustered around the phone, Bunuelos pacing a bit, Stevens with his brows pulled down, Ken with his samurai face intent
“Get on the road, then. Push him off the end of the island. Out past Hana, there’s nothing but the ocean,” Waxman said.
“And the Big Island. If he makes if across the channel to Hawaii, he could keep us running for weeks,” Ken said. “We’ll do better keeping him contained on Maui if we can.”
“Did he get any fuel at this hit?” Waxman asked.
Lei and Ken looked at each other. “Good question. We’ll check the outbuildings and get back to you.”
Lei took off out the front of the house at a jog. She couldn’t wait to get away from Stevens and the overwhelming emotions he sparked—and she wished she didn’t feel conflicted about catching the Bandit. She’d just have to work harder doing what needed to be done and hope it all sorted out in the end—but the questions nagged as much as the quest.
Chapter 13