Part 2 (1/2)
In her room, she stripped out of her black slacks and unbuckled her weapon harness, hanging it off the iron bedstead of the king-sized bed she'd finally replaced after the fire on Maui. She'd rented the little house furnished but for the bed, and it was big enough for her and the dogs to sleep in without b.u.mping into each other.
Looking at the pristine bed linens reminded her of the sad crime scene this morning; she unb.u.t.toned her white b.u.t.ton-down blouse, standard FBI ”uniform” wear, as she thought about her conversation with Sophie Ang just before the workday ended.
”I don't think the Hale boy is a suicide.” The tech agent had come into Workroom One, where Lei was using her fuming chamber, a gla.s.s aquarium-like cube, to raise fingerprints on the heroin ”cooking kit” found beside the boy's bed.
”We don't think so either,” Lei said. ”Come see.” They both squinted into the fuming chamber. ”See anything?” The spoon, lighter, plastic packet, and hypodermic were all in the chamber.
”No.” Sophie Ang wore a short-sleeved s.h.i.+rt, and Lei noticed again the curlicued foreign-writing tattoos that traced down the inside of the agent's toned arms. She'd always wondered about them.
”That's the point. Looks like the kit was wiped. Why would Corby Hale wipe his prints off the drug apparatus?” Ken, crisp in his gray suit, leaned down beside them. ”So why don't you think this is a suicide?”
”Computer a.n.a.lysis of the scene information,” Ang said.
Lei was still looking at the tattoos. ”What are those kanjis on your arms?”
”They aren't kanjis-they're Thai writing.” Ang stood, and Lei was struck again by her height, the leashed power of her movements. Marcella and Sophie seemed to be addicted to the Women's Fight Club they went to together. ”I'm half Thai, half American.”
”Oh.” Lei wanted to ask what the tattoos said but already felt like she'd overstepped herself with the very private tech agent. ”What's the computer saying about the case?”
”Seventy-percent confidence ratio that the boy's death is murder. This additional information will likely bring it up into ninety.”
”What kind of program are you running?” Ken switched off the power to the hood and the lit interior flicked off. ”I asked you that earlier during the team briefing on looking at these suicide cases, but I don't think I got a straight answer.”
Lei heard a defensive note in Sophie's voice. ”Cla.s.sified.”
Ken gave a bark of laughter, putting his hands on his hips. ”Got clearance just as high as you, Ang. You running something off the books?”
”I plead the Fifth Amendment.” Ang's foreign birth sometimes showed up in how she used colloquialisms. ”Something I'm working on. I'll tell Waxman at the right time.”
”Well, so far we're all on the same page. There's something kapakahi with this one. It's weird.” Lei told Ang about the boy's left-handedness and imitated the tricky position needed to inject oneself in a major vein with the nondominant hand.
”What about the suicide note?” Ang frowned.
”That's what we're all wondering,” Lei'd said.
Lei pulled her eyes away from the bed and her obsessive thoughts and tossed her blouse and bra into the laundry hamper. She rolled an athletic bra down over small round b.r.e.a.s.t.s and pulled on a pair of nylon running shorts and a mesh top, bundling her curling hair into a ponytail.
The suicide note. In a scene that looked staged, it was clearly in Corby's writing and yet it didn't reveal any of his real motivation. The note had a stilted, form-letter feel to it that concealed as much as it revealed-like someone had given the boy the words.
Keiki, done eating, saw these signs of imminent departure and began a low rumbling whine of eagerness, intelligent brown eyes tracking her mistress as Lei slid her feet into short athletic socks and laced up Nike Air running shoes. Angel, not so restrained, lapped circles around Lei, yapping with excitement.
The little dog was too small to keep up with Lei and Keiki on their runs but was devastated to be left behind, so Lei had rigged up a secondhand baby carrier that she wore on her chest. She'd been caring for the little dog for more than a year while her owner, a teenager Lei had forged a bond with, served a sentence in Hawaii Youth Correctional Facility in Ko'olau. She scooped up the dog and tucked her in, leaving the little domed head and large pointed ears protruding. She slid a heavy chain collar over Keiki's head, patted her pockets for her house keys, phone, and pepper spray, and took the dogs outside for their evening run.
The cottage was about a mile from the west end of Ala Moana Beach Park, and Lei and Keiki made good time jogging along the urban sidewalk to the long stretch of lawn at the beginning of the park. They ran past picnic structures, spreading banyan trees, a long yellow-sand beach, and several homeless tents.
Lei took the dogs to the fenced dog park area. The big Rottweiler lay down panting when they arrived, while Angel made darting runs at the other dogs, barking when she had a mind to. Lei did some stretches off the park bench, watching the families and other dog owners.
A couple sat on the bench near her, their arms twined around each other, sneaking kisses as their dogs, a s.h.i.+h tzu and a pit bull, wandered and sniffed the fenced area. The sight of the couple brought Lei's loneliness back in a rush as she remembered Marcella's flushed face and sparkling eyes, Kamuela's dimpled grin.
Love was in the air, and Lei wasn't getting any.
It was too much. Lei took out her phone and held down the number seven, Stevens's speed dial. The phone rang and rang. She listened to his voice tell her to leave a message. Just to hear his voice brought tears p.r.i.c.kling up, a dreaded weakness. She hung up, sliding the phone back into her pocket without leaving a message.
She wasn't tired enough; that was it. Maybe she should give the Women's Fight Club another try, but she didn't like the idea of seeing Alika Wolcott, who coached there. They'd dated back on Kaua'i, and she was still uncomfortable with him.
Some more running would help. She went to the nearby water fountain, splashed water over her face and hands, sucked down all the liquid she could hold. Made sure the dogs each got a good drink in the little basin designed for them, clicked the leash back on Keiki, and loaded Angel into the front carrier.
This time she went down to the beach and jogged laps back and forth. Tiny, clear turquoise waves lapped at the sand. The sunset blazed orange against the depthless blue sky, gilding clouds mounded near the horizon. Palm trees lining the beach clattered their fronds in the light breeze, and mynahs squabbled in a towering plumeria tree.
Lei jogged until the restless darkness of her mood was drowned by the thunder of her heart. Finally Keiki began hanging back, tongue lolling, and Lei took the dogs back uptown at a brisk walk.
The phone rang in her pocket, a buzzing vibration. She took it out, checked it before she answered.
”Hi, Michael.”
”Lei.” Just the sound of Stevens's voice as he said her name made her throat tighten. ”You called.”
”I did. I had to tell you-Marcella's dating someone. It made me miss you.”
”Glad to hear your voice, whatever the reason. Who's the lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d?”
”Marcus Kamuela. The detective working Charlie Kwon's case.”
A long pause. ”That's awkward.”
”You think?” She made herself give a little laugh, like it didn't terrify her. ”Anyway, seeing them together-they're really happy. It made this even harder.”
This. Waiting. Their long separation. She heard the sigh of his exhale.
”G.o.d. I miss you too.” She could tell he was running a hand through his dark curling hair. She could picture the shadow of his lashes falling over those blue, blue eyes, his long fingers rubbing them. ”Things are moving along.”
”Really?”
”Yeah. Really. Anchara told me her citizens.h.i.+p application was approved. I met with a divorce lawyer today.”
”Oh.” Lei stopped, leaning against a building, the sharp shadows of evening falling on the windows of the city all around her, Keiki tight up against her side as she bent her head, closing out everything in the world but his voice and the phone. Angel tilted her pointed nose up in the baby carrier and licked Lei's chin. ”So . . . how long?”
”Couple weeks. Could be sooner.”
”Oh my G.o.d.” After waiting so long to be together, the imminent end of their separation seemed like a mirage.
”I know. It doesn't seem real.”