Mary rolled her eyes as they went back to their seats. After class Ray fell into step beside Lei as she headed down the hall.
“More theories about what makes a criminal.”
“I’m not buying it all. There’s no excuse. People make choices.”
“Texeira’s Choice Theory,” he said. “I’m sure it’s out there. So, working on anything interesting?”
“Yeah, but you know I can’t discuss an open investigation,” she said, smiling to take the sting out of her words. He cocked his head, a glint of interest in his eyes.
“C’mon. I’ve got an application in to the academy myself. Maybe another perspective could crack open the case.”
“Sorry, but good luck with your application. They should snap up a smart Hawaii boy like you.”
“Maybe not,” he said, still smiling, but his gold-hazel eyes had gone opaque again. How did he do that? “I got into a little trouble in my youth,” he said.
“Didn’t we all.”
“Yeah. Well, I’ve got a record. I’m hoping the Criminal Justice degree will tip the balance.”
“It’s worth a try, if you really want it,” she said. “You could always work for a law office, be a private investigator or something, if it doesn’t.”
“I guess,” he said. They had arrived at her old Honda, and Ray lifted a hand in a wave as he headed across the parking lot.
After class, Lei drove home, preoccupied. She wished that for once in her life she could just go out with an attractive guy without getting all wound up and paranoid. Life was short-Kelly and Haunani reminded her of that, and maybe she owed it to them to learn to live a little. She glanced in her rearview mirror-the headlights behind her loomed uncomfortably close. She sped up. The tailgater sped up too, and finally pulled around her, cutting her off.
It was a black Toyota truck.
Adrenaline hit her bloodstream and her foot hit the gas, an automatic reaction. She accelerated, trying to get a look at the license plate. The two-lane road they were on was dim, and the truck surged ahead, streaking around a slower-moving Camry. Lei wished she had a cop light to put on her dash. It might be interesting to pull this jerk over.
She gunned the Honda and the elderly four-cylinder engine burped in protest.
“Come on,” she urged, wishing for the roar of the Crown Vic. She made it around the Camry but the Toyota was really flying now, its taillights disappearing over a rise. She floored it and nothing much happened. Next order of business-get a car with some juice. She hit the steering wheel in frustration as the Toyota peeled off to the right. She made the turn without ever hitting the brakes, the whole car shuddering and tires squealing at the abuse.
They reached an open stretch of country road. They’d left the residential area behind, and the Toyota poured it on, surging ahead. Lei held the steering wheel with both hands as it vibrated, the needle creeping to 75, 80, 85. The pickup truck was still accelerating. It disappeared over another rise, and by the time the Honda careened over the hill, it was gone.
The road had forked, and as she got to the intersection, there was nothing left to see but the moon shining on an ocean of waving pili grass, glimmering off the empty black asphalt leading away in either direction. The Honda glided to a stop, thoroughly smoked. It seemed like she was always too little, too late.
Chapter 11
Lei was curled up on the couch later, eating her Hot Pocket, when her cell rang. She thumbed it open.
“Hello?”
“Lei? It’s Michael.”
“Hey Stevens,” she said.
“Quit calling me that. I just wanted to check in with you, give you an update. Nice work on the folder.”
“Thanks.”
“We’ve been running down some calls on Reynolds’s cell, re-canvassing the girls’ neighborhoods, and setting up the interview with the witness. Doing it tomorrow-still want to come?”
“Of course. When and where?”
“I thought we’d try to be less intimidating, so it’s at Hilo High School library at 10 a.m. Wear civvies.”
“Okay. Hey, a little something I think you should know,” she said, and told him about the car chase.
“Could be related, but it’s a stretch. You probably freaked some poor guy out.”
“In my old granny car? C’mon, he was laughing as he dusted me. I really need some decent wheels.”
“Why don’t you get some?”
“Right,” she said, playing with Keiki’s ear. “Ha, ha.”
“No, really, I’ve got a friend who works at the dealership downtown… he’ll find a good deal for you. Let’s go tomorrow after the interview.”
Lei felt that bubble again, something reckless and wild, something like joy.
“What the hell. Let him know we’re coming,” she said, and said goodbye. She turned to Keiki. “We’re going car shopping, baby.”
She had always been careful with money, going to community college in California, being thrifty, and making do. When she arrived in Hilo two years ago, it was with savings she had built up. She’d bought the 1989 Civic for $1500.00 cash and, other than her dog, had no major expenses.
I really can afford to get a new car, she thought, and grinned.
Suddenly Keiki barked in the living room, the full-throated baying that signaled a stranger.
“Keiki! Come!”
The big Rottweiler continued to bark, her ruff distended, the boom of the dog’s voice almost shaking the walls. Lei grabbed her Glock out of the holster on the headboard, bolted up from her bed, and ran into the room, her gun out.
“Hello?” she called, but there was no answer except Keiki’s snarling as the dog faced the front door. She signaled Keiki back and put her eye to the peephole.
There was no one on the little porch. She opened the door and saw the gleam of paper, and bent down to retrieve the note that had been slipped partially under the mat, carefully holding it by a corner.
“Patrol,” she told Keiki, giving her a hand signal. The dog went silent and trotted around the house, sniffing at the windows, and finally whisked through the dog door to do her circuit outside. Lei knew she would bark if there was anything there. She retrieved a pair of gloves and snapped them on. She sat down at the table and slit the envelope with a steak knife. It was the same computer paper, folded twice around a single sentence:
I’M THINKING ABOUT YOU. IT BRINGS BACK MEMORIES.
What the hell did that mean? She battled the urge to crumple the paper and throw it as far away as she could. Instead she slipped it and the envelope into a Ziploc bag. Adrenaline buzzed through her. She hadn’t become a cop so she could sit around waiting to be a victim again and she was sick of being too little, too late. Damn if I’m going to sit here and let him scare me. He must still be nearby.
She slipped on her running shoes, clipped her cell phone onto her waistband, shrugged into the shoulder holster and whistled for Keiki. The dog streaked back in, still silent. She slipped the choke chain over Keiki’s head. All playfulness was gone as Keiki waited, her triangle ears pricked.
“Work,” Lei said, giving her the hand signal. She turned off the lights, letting her eyes adjust. She armed the house, pulled the Glock, stepped outside with the dog at her side. How long since Keiki gave the first alarm? Her mind raced, calculating. No more than five minutes, max. The bastard couldn’t have gotten far.
The street was quiet and deserted except for the blue glow of TVs behind living room windows and pools of yellow street lights here and there. She and Keiki speedwalked down the cracked sidewalk, looking for any sign of movement, straining their ears for anything unusual.
They got to Tom Watanabe’s house at the end of the block. The Acura was parked in the driveway, the streetlight gilding its chrome. His windows were dark, shades down, no flicker of TV showing.
There was no sign of anyone up or down the street, and Lei felt a sudden hot rage. Bastard thought he could scare her in her home? She’d give him some fucking memories. The stalker was going to learn the hard way she wasn’t like other women. She’d never be a helpless victim again.