now it came in through the top, forming a loop. She got in and set the empty water bottles beside her and chewed ice until her thirst was quenched.
She’d fallen asleep, a fitful stupor, when the growl of an engine startled her awake. The black tracery of branches against a glowing grey sky heralded nightfall. Showtime.
Lei put her cuffed hands above her head and closed her eyes, a picture of unconscious submission, the staple wire concealed between her fingers. She waited as she heard the muffled thump of the car door slam, the swish and crunch of his approaching footsteps. They slowed as he approached her.
She felt him staring down at her. She kept her breath slow and even. He prodded her with his foot. She remained limp. She felt him pick up the water bottle from beside her, heard the swish of remaining droplets as he shook it.
“Stupid bitch,” he said, in that almost-familiar voice. “You were too easy. I don’t know what he sees in you.”
Light glowed against her eyelids as he turned on the lantern. She heard more rustling, what sounded like a paper bag. She cracked her eyes but in the dim light of the lantern she could only make out his silhouette: not too tall. He took out a sandwich and put it in the cooler. Through the screen of her lashes she watched him get a camera out of his backpack. She closed her eyes as he loomed over her, unzipping the sleeping bag, the camera clicking periodically.
It seemed like forever before she heard the rustle of his clothing coming off, the thud of his shoes as they hit the ground. Her heart beat like a drum-hollow, frantic. She controlled her breathing with difficulty, then suddenly felt herself slipping away to that other place, rising above her body to somewhere in the top of the shelter looking down. She saw the pale, muscular length of his body as he knelt beside her. His head was dark, and she realized he was wearing a ski mask.
His fingers, warm and rough at the same time, moved softly over her breast. She continued to breathe deeply, slowly as her hand palmed the wire between her fingers, curling as if in slumber.
He gently pried her legs apart. He’ll see the cable, she thought, but he didn’t appear to notice the shadow of the cable running beside and underneath her.
From her mental vantage point above, she watched the exploration of her body. He stroked her thighs, licking the bowl of her navel, the feathery touch of his fingers making her nipples perk involuntarily. He made a low growling noise, moving up her, tonguing and sucking, spreading her legs further apart with his knee. Every now and then, he would stop, pick up the camera and take a picture.
He leaned over, setting the camera down above her shoulder.
Now!
Arching upward she struck, aiming the wire into his eye. There was a strange popping sound as she sunk it deep, followed by her thumb. He screamed, high and thin, and she tossed the loop of cable around his neck. He tried to rear back but she pulled him in to her breast, pulling the crossed cable tighter and tighter as far as her cuffed hands could go, kicking downward on the other end attached to her ankle.
He coughed, fighting for air, and punched at her face and body. She scissored her legs around his waist, pulling him further down so he couldn’t get leverage, redoubling her efforts to pull on the cable. He flailed, rearing back, and then headbutted her in the chin. Her mouth filled with blood.
He thrust forward, gaining a breath as he sank his teeth into her collarbone. Lei screamed but didn’t let go. He threw himself to the side and rolled, trying to lose her, but now she was on top. She heaved backward on the cable, pulling in the slack from his movement. She pulled and kicked with the leg clipped to the cable: pulled and kicked, pulled and kicked, her hands becoming slippery.
His fingers clawed at his neck, scrabbling for a hold. He bucked and heaved, but she hung on with all she had, hearing a fierce low growling that came from her own throat.
His face was hidden behind the knit of the mask but for the wire rising out of the weeping, ruined eye. His heels drummed on the ground, his chest slippery with their shared blood. He bucked feebly. She felt the deep shudders of his dying body between her thighs.
He’d stopped moving for some time when she finally let go.
She collapsed next to him, breath heaving, body trembling and bathed in sweat. When she’d mustered enough strength, she rose on her elbow to look down into the black knit covering his face. Her wrist throbbed like a bass drum but she persisted, rolling the mask up and off his purpling, congested face. It was Jeremy Ito.
She crawled over to his backpack. His cell phone was in the side pocket and she watched herself, still floating above her body, punch in the number she had memorized.
“Jeremy, what’s up?”
“This isn’t Jeremy,” she said. “It’s Lei.”
“Lei. Why are you on Jeremy’s phone?”
“It’s him,” she said. “He did it.” Her teeth began to chatter.
“Lei! What the hell’s going on? You’re scaring me!”
“I killed him,” she said. “Come get me, please.” Shivers racked her body, and her teeth clattered like castanets. “I’m at the Mohuli`i crime scene.”
“On my way,” Stevens said. “Hold on.”
“Okay,” she said, in a small voice. The phone went silent, and she closed it. The snapping sound sucked her back into her body.
Chapter 39
The dog licking her face brought her up out of a deep well of medication-induced sleep. My girl’s okay, she thought. She put her arms around Keiki’s big, solid body, burrowing her face into her fur, savoring the warmth and safety of her bed. Even the doggy smell was heavenly. Keiki had been found trapped in the steel gardening shed. She’d been Tased but seemed no worse for it.
“I hate to interrupt this love fest.” Stevens’s voice. She opened her eyes. He was at the foot of the bed on the futon, sitting up with the covers around his waist. “How’re you feeling?”
“Glad to be alive,” she said huskily. “Love the pain meds.”
“You should’ve stayed in the hospital.”
“I hate those places. Nothing so wrong with me that a little first aid and some sleep won’t cure.”
“Yeah. That’s what you said last night.” He jumped up with lithe grace. “I’ll go make some coffee.”
She stroked Keiki with her good hand, staring at the ceiling. The previous night was blurry except for a few moments-Stevens and several squad cars arriving. Stevens wrapping her in a clean blanket, taking off her restraints. The flash of crime scene photos being taken even as she was helped to the ambulance. Lying on the gurney, Stevens beside her, holding her hand.
“You should be at the crime scene,” she remembered saying.
“I am,” he’d replied.
The cast on her arm felt stiff and hard. Her wrist had indeed been broken. Pain throbs echoed the struggle from various points on her body. She tried not to remember it, thinking instead about giving her statement to Stevens and the other detectives.
Thank God this whole thing was finally over. She closed her eyes again, feeling tears well up. She didn’t know why she was crying.
“Sit up,” Stevens said, his voice brisk. He was carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. She scooched herself upright, whacking her pillow into shape behind her with her good hand. He handed her the coffee and sat in the folding chair he’d set in the space beside her outsized bed. She took a sip.
“Mmm. Strong.”
“You’re gonna need it,” he said, reaching over to stretch a curl out, watching it spring back into the matted mass around her face. “The Lieutenant wants us to do a press conference at 11:00 AM.”
“Oh my God. I can’t,” Lei said. Keiki stiffened and growled at the terror in her voice.
“You won’t have to say much, just stand there in your dress uniform with a sling on your arm, look heroic. I’ll be making a statement too.”
