That fuel can burn you up.”
The psychologist reached out, picked up the little brass rake and brushed it through the silvery sand of the Japanese sand garden on the coffee table. Back and forth, back and forth. Lei slowed her pacing, sat on the couch to watch. Back and forth went the rake.
“You are safe here.” Dr. Wilson held the rake out to Lei. “You were a helpless child then, but you are a strong, capable woman now, who can make her life what she dreams it to be.”
Lei took the rake. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh, feeling the rage subside. She drew designs in the sand: arcs, swirls, waves.
“I am making my dreams come true already,” she said, the ring of truth filling her words. “And I don’t want to let the past steal one more minute of my future.”
“Sounds like you’ve made your decision,” Dr. Wilson said, watching the swirling pattern Lei created and re- created. “I think that’s enough for today. I guess I didn’t really need a nap.”
“There’s always the next happy customer,” Lei said, standing up, brushing a few grains of sand off her slacks. “You certainly have a unique approach.”
“It’s taken years for me to learn to trust my gut,” Dr. Wilson said. “That’s what seems to work best for me and my clients.”
She walked Lei to the door, and staggered a little, off balance, as Lei turned and impulsively hugged her.
“I’m learning to trust my gut too,” Lei said, and hurried away down the linoleum hall.
Chapter 30
He sat in his chair, uploading the pictures of Mary. He scrolled slowly through the whole sequence, savoring them: the first shots when he brought her to the camp, tousled and glaring. The poses of her beckoning him with her helpless, waiting beauty. The shot of her sprawled on the rocks, the ripple of brown floodwaters inches away. Then, the final one-her body caught in the swollen current, only the top of her shiny black head visible. “You shouldn’t have pissed me off like that, or I might have let you live,” he said aloud.
He made a new folder, titled it Blood Orchid and stashed it in a folder with just the date he’d dumped her. Done saving, he unplugged the hard drive and pulled up the rug, stashing it in the floorboard cache he’d built.
Savoring the moment, he took the key ring with the black and blonde hair on it out of the drawer. He knew he should hide it with the photos, but he needed it close. He took the hank of Mary’s hair out of the Ziploc bag and secured it to the ring on the other side of Kelly’s hair. There was a symmetry there that was pleasing to his eye.
He got his phone out and slowly scrolled with his thumb through the photos he’d saved there, trailing the key ring’s hair back and forth across his chest, down his arms, a feeling like the tenderest of touches. Faces of young women filled the small screen.
He paused at the one he was looking for.
He studied Leilani Texeira’s face caught in a rare smile, her warm brown eyes alight. “You’re next. I was right-you do photograph well.”
He put the key ring away and got up, going out to the garage. He went to a large wooden cabinet, opened the combination lock, reached inside to a concealed back panel, opened it. He took out his kit, setting it on the work table nearby.
It was a black backpack with everything tidy and in its place: the ski mask, a couple of shiny new pairs of handcuffs, the Taser, a clear glass bottle of the drug, a sealed plastic pack of hypodermics, a roll of duct tape, a couple of freshly laundered handkerchiefs, the tie out cable, the pillowcase and neatly folded top sheet. He mentally rehearsed the capture as he touched each item.
He wasn’t planning to be gentle with this one.
Chapter 31
Lei sat in the conference room with Stevens, Jeremy, Lieutenant Ohale, the two new detectives, and Hiro Harada the following morning. Across the table sat Puna station’s commanding officer, Captain Brown, Lono Smith, and his partner Brett Samuels. Stevens had called the meeting to request that they combine the Mohuli`i investigation with Mary Gomes’ homicide. A box of malasadas, round Filipino donuts dusted with sugar, sat waiting to clog arteries.
“Okay.” Stevens continued with his summarization of the main points, looking down at his notes. He’d asked her to keep track of the discussion, so Lei got up, uncapping a marker to make notes on the whiteboard. “We think these cases are the same doer for several reasons. One: the method. All three women were drowned. Two: all three victims were drugged with Rohypnol. Three: they were restrained. Four: all of them had evidence of sexual activity. Five: they all had trace evidence of baby wipes on their bodies, showing careful attention to cleanup.” Lei wrote fast, wishing she could see the expressions on the faces of the other investigators, and feeling conscious of eyes on her ass.
“Now for the differences,” Lono said, taking over. Lei drew a quick line dividing the board and began another list. “One: the method of restraint. The girls were bound with t-shirt strips. Mary Gomes was restrained with handcuffs. Two: Gomes was kidnapped and raped over days. The girls weren’t identified as missing prior to their bodies washing up, indicating they weren’t held captive like Gomes was. Three: the girls had very little evidence of violence other than sexual activity pre-mortem, while Gomes was pretty banged up.”
Lei took a relaxation breath in through her nose, out through her mouth, the chemical smell of the marker bracing as smelling salts against memories of drowned faces flashing through her mind as she wrote.
“Four: the victim profiles are different,” Lono went on. “The girls were young, easy pickings for a sexual predator. Mary Gomes was mature, a law enforcement officer, experienced in self defense, and armed.”
Stevens picked up the rhythm. “Our main suspect so far in the Mohuli`i case, Kelly Andrade’s stepfather James Reynolds, has a solid alibi for the time frame when Mary disappeared.” He gestured to Jeremy.
“He was at work, witnessed by a dozen people. The wife says he was never gone at night during the time frame Gomes was missing,” Jeremy filled in.
“He’s got a helluva defense lawyer, and what we have on him is thin, namely a motive for the girls and an incriminating photo of them,” Harada chimed in. “I didn’t have enough to even issue an arrest warrant.”
“Then there’s what Lei turned up that could be practicing on the part of our perp. She found two kidnap rapes within the last six months that look like the same M.O. as Mary Gomes, only without the drowning.”
“Yeah.” Lei turned around and confirmed. “Stevens and I re-interviewed these two rape victims and filled in a little more information.”
Lieutenant Ohale’s slight nod indicating she go on gave her confidence. “The victims remembered being cleaned up with baby wipes. Handcuffs and Rohypnol by injection were used on them. Cassie Kealoha remembers being posed and photographed; she said she thought he dressed her because she had strap marks on her feet. She also saw a black ski mask.”
The group seemed to be digesting this.
“Possible Reynolds did the girls, and the Campsite Rapist did Mary Gomes?” Jeremy used Lei’s moniker.
“Campsite Rapist,” Captain Brown said thoughtfully, reaching over to pluck a malasada off the pile. The brass on his uniform gleamed in the overhead lights, and Lei thought he’d left his hat on to add height to his short, fireplug build. He was Captain over the entire Hilo District, and Ohale’s commanding officer as well as Puna’s. “The media better not get wind of this. That nickname has a catchy ring to it.”
“So far they don’t seem to have put the two crimes together,” Stevens said. “I hope we can keep it that way. We don’t want this guy knowing we’re lining up the dots.”
“So are we in agreement there’s enough in common with these crimes to indicate the same doer?” Lono asked.
Nods around the room and finally Captain Brown said, “Possibly. At this point we have to pursue all leads.
