and now he was looking around. They weren’t far apart.
‘I’m going to count to ten and if you’re not out here I’m going to start hunting for you and I’m going to assume you aren’t who you said you were.’
Raveneau saw him moving around the car looking inside.
‘One, two,’ and as he turned Raveneau moved in closer, kneeling near a tree and picking up a couple pieces of the lava rock. He heard another vehicle engine and the young man probably heard it as well.
‘Three, four, five, six.’
Raveneau threw the rock behind the man and beyond the car. He watched him react, watched him adjust and hold the barrel steady. Looked like he knew how to handle a gun. Now he wheeled and turned to face Raveneau.
‘You don’t want to shoot me. It’s not as much fun as you might think it is.’ He held out his phone and used the one name he’d been given before he flew here. ‘I just sent a text to an FBI agent named Mike Kawena. He knows I’m here. He’s calling the local police so they’ll probably show up soon. If anything happens to me he’ll come for you.’
‘You broke in.’
‘You don’t shoot people for walking into an abandoned building. You don’t have license to do that just because I’m on the property.’
Raveneau heard the other vehicle getting closer but moving very slowly. He saw the man shift, hesitate, and then lower the gun.
‘We’ve had trouble here before.’
Raveneau held up his homicide star and walked with his arm out so he could read more easily.
‘My wallet is in the glove compartment.’
Raveneau laid his homicide star on the roof of the car. As he reached in his pocket for his keys the gun rose slightly.
‘Either keep that down or put it down. If you don’t think that star is real get out your phone and call the San Francisco Police Department or the FBI field office in Honolulu.’
Raveneau took a much harder look at him and asked, ‘How close were you trying to get to me with those shots up there?’
The look he got back only made him wonder more. He watched the younger man smile.
‘Get your wallet out of the glove compartment.’
Raveneau moved around the car but slowly. The man was older than he had thought, at least thirty-two or three, a mix of Asian and Caucasian, dark-haired, dark-eyed, a light gold tint to his skin. Raveneau reached in the glove box and when he turned the man was four or five steps back and with the gun up again.
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Lay your wallet on top of the car.’
Raveneau rested his wallet on the car roof. He stepped away as ordered. He heard the other vehicle which had stopped, start crawling forward again.
‘What’s in the trunk?’
‘My briefcase.’
‘Open the trunk.’
Raveneau hit the button and the lid lifted. He put the briefcase on the ground and watched him go through the contents including the copies of the case files for the Krueger murder. He paused on the crime scene photos but didn’t seem to be reading. He put everything back carefully and zipped the leather bag shut. He returned it to the trunk.
‘I’m going to check inside your car. I want you to move away while I do it.’
‘You’ve already seen enough.’
‘Move over to the trees.’
‘I’m done moving around for you. If you want to search the car, go ahead.’
He searched and then abruptly seemed satisfied. He pulled the clip from the gun, removed the chambered bullet, and grasped something under his shirt that turned out to be a microphone.
‘We’re good. He is who he says he is.’
Raveneau heard a response but couldn’t make out the words. The man looked at him and said, ‘My uncle wants us to come down to the house.’
‘And now that you know who I am, who are you?’
‘Matt Frank. I live here.’
Frank wore a blue T-shirt that read Humphrey Whale Sanctuary. He lifted his shirt in back and tucked the Glock into his jeans. He stared and said, ‘Sorry, we’ve had a problem with people growing dope on the property.’
‘All right, let’s start again. I’m San Francisco homicide inspector Ben Raveneau. I’m here for the reason I told you I am. You found my card at the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that wasn’t enough?’
‘Not for my uncle.’
‘Was that him in the jeep down the road?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t he drive all the way up?’
‘He was waiting for the OK from me.’
‘And you’re miked up? What is this, some sort of paramilitary game?’
‘It’s not a game. We deal with people growing dope on the property and stealing.’
‘Your uncle wanted you to handle it?’
That was right. That was a good guess. Raveneau saw his reaction.
‘Where did you get your accent?’
‘Kentucky.’
‘Your mother was Vietnamese?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I recognize your father in your face.’
‘Did you know my father?’
‘No, but he’s why I’m here.’
‘He was ashamed of us. He divorced my mother. How do you know about us?’
‘You have a half brother in San Francisco. He has a different mother and he has her name, but he’s got a lot of your look. His name is Ryan Candel. What’s your uncle’s name?’
‘Tom Casey.’
Raveneau pointed up the slope to the house. ‘And your dad, Jim Frank, lived up there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Follow me.’
They climbed back up the steep dirt track to the house then out past the north end and off the graded flat on to the grassy slope. There Raveneau saw three good-sized black-brown lava rocks stacked on each other, stacked so they would stay that way. He got it. He understood. He took in the dark roughness of the lava, the contrasting lush green of the steep slope, the soft wind off the water.
‘Is he buried here?’
‘Just his ashes.’
Raveneau stared out at the water for a long moment. Then he said, ‘I understand you holding me at gunpoint, but I don’t understand you putting those shots so close to me. It makes me wonder about you. I want you to know that.’
‘I already know it.’
