out of the backpack and snipped a swatch of that long shining hair from the spot two inches above the notch of her skull, and slipped it into a Ziploc.
She was limp, her eyelids fluttering. Reverently he folded the sheet down, his hand caressing down her breast, the smooth dip of her stomach. He set the camera on black and white to capture the contrast of her skin, hair, and bruises.
This was the way a woman should be. Soft and waiting, receptive. A memory from work crossed his mind-the woman strident, confrontational. I would love to have that bitch in front of me like this, he thought, bending over to tongue Mary’s pale brown nipple. It peaked obligingly, and he smiled down at her.
“So beautiful,” he said. “I’m going to treat you the way you deserve.”
Much later, pleasantly exhausted, he opened a plastic box of baby wipes and tenderly rubbed her down with them. He cleaned her thoroughly, and then himself, discarding the used condoms and soiled baby wipes in a Ziploc bag to be disposed of later. Mary slept on, her eyelids fluttering, each breath the sound of cloth shredding.
She won’t drink the water next time, he thought. It’s going to get harder to deal with her. He settled beside her, covering them both with the sheet, spooned around her in a parody of love. He’d never taken off the ski mask-it was beginning to feel comfortable.
The package sat on the table, mocking Lei as she started dinner. Her cell rang, and she grabbed it, hoping it was Mary.
“Do you have food? Need me to bring anything?” Stevens. Her heart picked up. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the package alone.
“Some beer,” she said. “I forgot to restock. You’ll be happy to know I got the futon, so you can stop whining. Also-I think the stalker sent me something. I picked up a package today. No return address.”
“Wait until I get there,” he said, and hung up. Lei closed her phone. Somehow the brief exchange lifted her spirits. Her eyes fell on one of her favorite quotes, taped above the kitchen sink:
Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live. -Dorothy Thompson.
In spite of everything-or maybe because of it-she was finally starting to live. Really feeling her feelings for the first time in years, all the range from rage to revulsion, joy to lust. It was exciting, terrifying, and entirely out of her control.
She was ready to stop being afraid for herself, if not for Mary.
She opened several cans of chili and heated them on the stove. It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang. She checked the peephole and Stevens stood there, a duffel and grocery bag in his arms.
“Hey,” she said, standing back to let him in. “Come have dinner. I’ve got chili and rice.”
“I brought the beer,” he said, following her into the kitchen. He took a six-pack of Heineken out of the bag. “Got an opener?”
She pointed to the drawer, taking out a pair of bowls and setting the table. He poured them each a beer into the plastic glasses he found in the cupboard. With a flair, she lit a fat white emergency candle and put it on the table. He smiled, watching her.
“If I didn’t know better I would say this was Texeira being domestic.”
She gave him a thwack with the dish towel.
“As long as the cooking involves a can opener, I’m golden.”
She put the food on the table and they served it up, neither of them looking at the bulky envelope at the other end of the table.
“So did you find anything else on the computer?” she asked, sitting back with a sip of beer.
“Not at first glance. Jeremy’s going to run a recovery program for any deleted files.”
“How about the rest of the house?”
“Nothing obvious. Even if we pull prints from Haunani, that’s not conclusive. The girls were friends. She could have gone over to visit. What’s more interesting is that there is so little of Kelly in the house. You’d think at least her mother would want some mementos, but there was hardly anything left. We found one shoebox of photos in the mom’s dresser. That was it. It’s like they’re trying to erase her.” He forked up a mouthful of salad.
Lei closed her eyes, thinking of the empty hangers, the barren dresser, the tape marks where Kelly’s posters had been.
“You said people grieve differently,” she said. “Is what they did in the range of normal?”
“Who knows what’s normal with a family like that?” They ate without speaking, the case casting a pall. With an effort, Stevens looked up, smiled at her.
“So how was the counseling?”
“Unexpected,” Lei said. “That counselor is a piece of work.”
“What do you mean? She has a good reputation.”
“Not sure she takes me seriously or knows what she’s doing, then I find myself spilling the beans,” Lei said. “So I guess she does know what she’s doing. Actually I felt better for it.”
“Good thing too, you were… well, acting funny. Pretty bitchy.”
“Fuck you, Stevens. That search was upsetting and I’m not sorry for telling you guys to get your priorities straight.”
“You notice I listened to you,” Stevens said quietly. “We shut down the computer and took it to the station for the tech guy to hunt through.”
They finished their food. Stevens leaned back, looked around the kitchen.
“I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” Lei said. She pointed at the package. She didn’t want him imagining them as a couple. The thought terrified her, almost as much as the threat from the stalker sitting there in its anonymous bubble wrap.
“Yeah,” he said, flatly. “The package. That’s why I’m here.”
He carried his bowl to the sink and she opened another beer, stroking Keiki’s head since the dog had placed it in her lap, expressive eyes glancing up at Lei. Keiki always knew when she was upset.
Stevens wiped his hands on a dish towel and reached under the sink for the latex gloves, snapped on a pair. He got her kitchen scissors and came and sat down with some Ziploc bags. He pulled the package over and inspected it.
“Postmarked Hilo. No return address. Looks like it went out three days ago since it took you a day to go pick it up.” She said nothing. She’d already noticed those things.
He took the kitchen scissors and snipped off the end of the package with its folded-over adhesive. He held it up to the light.
“No visible fibers or prints. We’ll process and light it down at the station.” He stuck the flap into one of the bags and reached into the package, pulling out a small square box. There was also a note, folded in thirds like the other three. He held it open so she could read it:
THINKING OF YOU EVERY DAY. YOU CAN HAVE THESE BACK NOW AND SHOW THEM TO ME ANOTHER TIME.
Lei found she was stroking Keiki’s head too hard because the dog whimpered. She unclenched her jaw, took a few breaths in through her nose, out through her mouth as he set the note aside and opened the box. Inside was a pair of underwear, wadded in a ball.
Lei’s face flushed, her scalp prickling as Stevens unfolded them, spreading them carefully on top of a Ziploc bag, his face blank and focused as he inspected them front and back, around the lace at the legs, the little swatch of extra fabric at the crotch.
They were her favorite underwear, black satin with tiny purple orchids on them. Aunty had given her three pairs of them this Christmas from Victoria’s Secret, knowing how she loved orchids. They weren’t particularly high- cut or sexy. The beautiful fabric was what made them special. Overwhelmed with tension, Lei snatched them out of his hand.
“How did he get these?” she cried.
“Give them back. They’re evidence now. I don’t see any fluids or anything, but we need to go over them back at the lab.”
“Seriously, how did he get these?” she said again, reluctantly handing them back. He slid the underwear, along with the box, into the Ziploc bag. “You know how I lock everything up.”
“Are you sure these are yours?”
