He looked back as he climbed into the cab and she quickly bent over, pretending to be tying her shoelace. She then ran to the window and looked at the license plate as the truck pulled out, memorizing it and taking her cell phone out of her windbreaker pocket.
“Pono. You at your desk?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Can you run a plate for me? HLMGH44.”
“Just a minute.” She heard keys clicking. “Ray Solomon, age twenty-six. High school record for dealing in California-nothing current.”
“Would that keep him off the force if he tried to become a police officer?”
“Probably. It’s a felony conviction at age seventeen. Looks like they gave him maximum sentence. What’s this about?”
“Not sure. Ran into him here at the firing range.” She put her finger in her ear against the muffled thump of shots from the soundproofed booths. “He’s in my Criminal Justice class. He’s asked me out a couple times, and he’s just-a little off.”
“You got the stalker though. Not every guy in a dark Tacoma is a criminal, sister. Sure you don’t need to go see Dr. Wilson again?”
“Already did. Never mind.” She shut the phone abruptly. Her gut was out to lunch on this one. She went back in to use up her ammo.
She put Keiki on her leash and set off on an afternoon walk, her cast stabilized in the sling the doctor had sent home. The straps from the sling and the holster rubbed uncomfortably and her stride was slow as she made her way down the block, keeping her casted arm clamped over the gun and handling the leash with her good hand. Leaving the gun home had somehow seemed like a bad idea.
The prevailing wind that usually blew Kilauea Volcano’s belching smoke out to sea had changed direction today, and thick ‘vog’ had settled over the town, a gauzy haze that softened the edges of everything.
She went along her favorite route beside the Bay, watching the mynahs hopping on the grass of the park. The light breeze clattered through the leaves of the coconut palms, a soothing harmony with the hushing of waves against the rocks. She found a place to sit on the jetty, perched on a boulder. Keiki gave a sigh and settled her big square head on her paws, watching the restless, turquoise water.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she dug it out with her good hand. It was an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Lei? It’s Wayne. Your dad.”
“Oh, hi.” Long pause. She remembered she had given him her number. She stared, unseeing, at the foaming surf. It was weird hearing his voice after so long, weird that he could just call her-and yet not unwelcome.
“What happened with the Changs?”
“Oh yeah.” She’d forgotten about that. “The stalker was somebody else. He came after me, and… I killed him.”
“What, seriously? Are you okay?”
“Few bumps and bruises. Broken wrist. But he got the worst of it.” She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the memory of Jeremy Ito’s ruined eye, the wire rising out of it.
“Thank God you’re all right. Well, I guess that was a dead end then.”
“Yeah.”
Awkward silence. Finally he said, “I’m glad nothing I did had anything to do with you getting hurt. I was really worried about it. Those Changs are bad news.”
She nodded. Remembered he couldn’t hear that and tried to speak but nothing came out.
“Well I just thought I’d follow up. I don’t expect you to say anything. Just know I-miss you.” He hung up.
A criminal, flawed, he was still her dad. He missed her. That felt good.
That reminded her to call Aunty Rosario, whose exclamations and machine-gun questions took up the whole walk home. Love and family. Sometimes it was just a pain in the ass.
“Hey Lei!” Tom Watanabe came up his driveway toward her, his brow furrowed.
“Hey, Tom.”
“What happened to your arm?”
“Tangled with a perp.” She was beginning to like her brush-off line.
“I’m worried about you. Can you come in for a minute and talk?”
“Okay. Just for a minute.” It was time to get this over with anyway, she thought with an inward sigh.
“I’m sorry, maybe I forgot to mention it, but I have a cat. She’ll freak if Keiki comes in.”
“Okay,” Lei said, and made the big Rottweiler sit. She tied the leash around the railing of the porch. She went in through the minimalist gloss of his front room, following him into the kitchen. He ran a glass of water from the refrigerator filter and handed it to her.
“It seems like there’s a lot of drama going on. You sure you’re okay?”
She set the water down on the granite island without drinking it.
“The stalker thing is over, so yeah, I’m okay. Just need to recover. Listen, I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”
He smiled, a baring of teeth.
“Oh, here it comes. The part where you tell me, ‘let’s just be friends.’”
“I guess. I like you, just not… that way.”
She reached for the glass of water.
“Sure I can’t change your mind?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just not interested.” Lei set the glass down with finality.
“It’s too bad, you know,” he said conversationally.
“What do you mean?”
“That you won’t give me another chance. I could’ve helped you.”
“Helped me? I don’t need help.”
“Really? The way you lock yourself in, like that’ll keep you safe? The way you run like you could get away? The way you carry a gun just to go for a walk?” He gestured to the bulge under the thin windbreaker. “It’s pathetic. All your efforts, and you couldn’t catch someone who might be just trying to show you how vulnerable you are, that you need somebody.”
Lei pushed away from the counter. He was blocking the door of the kitchen.
“I don’t have to listen to this.” Her heart thudded as she put her hand on the Glock. “Let me out. Now.”
“Your loss,” he said. He took one step to the side. She edged past him, backing out through the house, but he didn’t follow as she went down the steps and untied the dog. Her cell rang, a jarring vibration as she jogged toward her house. She transferred the leash to the hand with the cast and dug it out of her pocket.
“Hello?”
“You sound out of breath.” Stevens.
“Running,” she huffed.
“Sure you should be doing that with your bruised ribs and all?” His voice was sharp. The question made her realize there was indeed a stabbing pain in her side, one she had been ignoring since she’d left her house. She slowed to a walk.
“Probably not.”
“Thought we could go on a real date tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Such enthusiasm. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.”
“I’ll see what I’ve got.” She closed the phone and concentrated on getting home and locking the door behind her.
Chapter 42
They sat at a corner table of the Banyan Tree, Hilo’s finest dining restaurant. The oceanfront view reflected
