Lei sucked in her breath, held it. Every hair on her body stood on end. The voice was loud but muffled. She couldn’t tell gender, age, anything.
“How did you get this number?”
“That doesn’t matter. What you need to know is that I haven’t forgotten you.”
“I haven’t forgotten you, either,” Lei said, her whisper vibrating with rage. “I’m going to find you and seriously fuck you up.”
A long pause.
“I hope so.” Then laughter, a low rumbling chuckle. “I like a challenge, Lei.”
Click. Dead air.
Lei snapped the phone shut and pressed the power button to turn it off. She stood up and stepped into the aisle, scanning the people in their seats for any unusual activity. There were only a few other passengers, hunched over portable video games, or tucked dozing into corners. She walked to the back of the bus and into the closet-like restroom and locked the door.
She took some relaxation breaths. Splashed water on her face and hands. Did a nervous pee. Washed her hands again. Splashed water again. Nothing was helping to diffuse the adrenaline that had pumped into her system. She went out, scanned the seats again. No activity. She walked down the aisle, touching a few seat backs for balance as the bus swayed. She walked back and forth a few more times until her heart rate was back to normal and the trembling of her legs had calmed. She sat back in her seat and took a few more relaxation breaths, longing for the familiar weight of the Glock, which she’d left at home due to airport hassles. All she had with her was the black lava stone from Mary’s memorial.
She rubbed it, and then flipped open her phone and texted Stevens:
¦ Stalker called my cell. Can you trace my phone activity? Anything new your end?
She’d called him and Pono the night before to let them know about her plans to go to Oahu, and he hadn’t had any more overtime authorized for her Saturday so she’d gone ahead with the trip. A few minutes later the phone vibrated with his phone call.
She didn’t pick up, texted again: ¦ On bus so can’t use phone to talk.
A few minutes later, he texted back.
› No action here. Will put in trace paperwork. Will check records for caller number. You ok?
¦ Shaken up but ok.
› Why you on bus?
¦ Going to Halawa to see my dad. He’s in prison there, told you yesterday.
› Think he knows anything about the stalker stuff?
Lei paused, looked out the window at the lushness of remote Halawa Valley rising around her in sculpted beauty. Her eyes hardly registered the scenery. Could her father be connected to the stalking campaign that had been going on? It didn’t seem possible.
¦ Don’t think so. Unfinished business. She clicked the phone shut. It vibrated once more:
› Call me when you can.
¦ Will do, she texted back, unaccountably warmed.
She sat at the battered Formica table in the communal room, waiting for her father. It had been an ordeal getting in. She had been able to get on the schedule for a visit but only because of her police and daughter status. She hadn’t known what to expect. The prison was medium security so the visiting could have been anything from plastic windows and phones to this open setting.
He must have some privileges, she thought, looking around the room. Couples and families clustered around battered tables, playing cards or talking. The spacious room was bathed in sunlight from high windows shadowed by safety wire. Lei sat facing the door, and when he came in, she knew him instantly.
He walked slowly toward her. His curly hair was shot with silver, and his face reminded her of a cigar-store Indian she had seen once, all craggy cheekbones and deep furrows. His dark, hooded eyes were wary.
“Lei,” he said, looking down at her. She’d forgotten how tall he was, the rack of his shoulders seeming to block out the light. She stood up.
“Hello.” Touching wasn’t allowed so she did an awkward little wave. Her smile felt like a tic.
“Lei.” he said again, this time his voice soft. “You came.”
“Yes, I did.”
They sat down at the table. Wayne took out a little spiral notebook.
“Do you have a pencil? I’m not allowed to carry one.”
She dug one out of her backpack and handed it to him. She felt the round eye of the surveillance camera watching them. Wayne took the pencil and began sketching quickly, and she saw her face emerging on the little lined pad: upturned nose, square jaw, full mouth, curly tangle of hair, wide tilted eyes, sprinkle of freckles. Only when he was satisfied with his drawing, and the swift glances he stole at her to complete it, did he hand the pencil back to her.
“Helps me remember things,” he said, flipping the notebook shut and slipping it back in his pocket.
“You seem to have a knack.”
“Something to do with my hands.”
The awkwardness choked Lei. She cleared her throat.
“I bet you wonder why you never heard from me.”
“I used to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I figured you had your reasons. Probably good ones.” This so closely echoed her own thought about Aunty Rosario hiding the letters that she cocked her head, smiled at him.
“Until recently, I thought you forgot about me when you were taken away.”
“Why?” His brow furrowed.
“I mean… I never knew you wrote to me.” She looked down at the table, unable to bear looking at his eyes.
“I don’t understand.”
“Please don’t be too mad at her but… Aunty Rosario never gave me your letters until just recently.”
The silence stretched out. She sneaked a peek at him. His carved face was still.
“That explains a lot,” he finally said. Lei nodded.
“Anyway. She brought them to me. And I realized what I thought was true, wasn’t true.”
“Which was?”
“You know. That you forgot me.”
“Never,” he said, leaning forward with sudden intensity. “I never forgot you.” Lei blinked, eyes swimming.
“I wish you hadn’t gone in here,” she said, her voice small.
“You and me both.” He set his hands on the table, as close as he could get them to hers. Lei stared at them and the tears fell, running down her cheeks like wax.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’ve had it rough.”
“Not so bad.” She sniffed and dashed off her cheeks. “After Aunty took me in.”
“I’m glad she took you in, but I still get some things fo’ to say to my sister.”
“She was nothing but good to me. She thought she was protecting me.”
“From the big bad drug dealer?” Her father had been given a maximum 20 year sentence without possibility of parole for heroin and cocaine dealing in an era of severe sentencing.
“I guess.”
“So you read the letters. Then you know I never meant any of this to happen.”
“Nobody ever does.” Once again, the long silence. Finally Lei said, “Did she tell you I’m a cop?”
“Yeah.” He laughed, a rusty chuckle. “Proud of you too.”
“It makes me feel good to make the streets a little safer, to help people. I’ve had some trouble lately, though.”
“What’s been happening?” He frowned, dark brows snapping together.
“Long story. I’m being stalked. Do you have any enemies in here? Anyone who knows about me? One of my cop friends thought there might be a connection somehow. Sketchy, I know.”
