Omar heard one of the policemen say, “She’ll contaminate the scene.”
Two policemen pulled Leilanie gently back into the living room and sat her down on the couch.
Omar silently led them back onto the balcony that encircled his whole penthouse. He loved his balcony terrace. From this side he could see the ocean view and Waikiki. Walking around to the other side, he had a view of the beautiful green scenic mountains in the distance.
It appeared as though Wendy had shed her sandals before she jumped. They were neatly placed next to the railing. A policeman put on gloves and pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. He put the shoes inside the bag.
“We’re making this a crime scene,” he explained to Omar, leading him back into the living room. “Forensics will be up here to dust. Please stay inside and don’t go out there again until he’s finished.” He called one of the men from down below on his cell to come up to Omar’s apartment and do a thorough forensics exam of the terrace. Then they wanted to see the bedroom Wendy was staying in.
This was turning into a long night, Omar thought dismally as he led them to Wendy’s lavish bedroom. More picture taking. More snooping. And Leilanie seemed to be inconsolable. They could hear her continued sobbing throughout the whole place.
After a couple of hours with police tromping all over his penthouse apartment, Omar finally had the place to himself, except Leilanie’s constant crying was irritating and mystifying to him. She had retreated to Omar’s bedroom but her tears seemed to be endless. Omar was perplexed. He didn’t want to sleep with a crying woman wetting the bed with copious tears.
He stood in the doorway to the bedroom. She was curled up on her side, still crying softly and hiccupping. Walking toward the bed, he said, “You two fought like cats and dogs. What is your problem?”
“Wendy was my BFF.”
“BFF?”
“Best Friend Forever,” Leilanie said with a huff, staring at him indignantly with unattractive, red streaming eyes.
“The way you two fought...?”
“We had fun! I don’t fight with people I don’t like. Sisters fight all the time.”
Omar tried to hide a gigantic sigh. He’d never understand women. Now he’d have to sit on the bed and rub her back for a while. It was something he was willing to do because the stakes were high. Leilanie was strong and healthy, young and fertile.
She’d easily carry a baby to term.
Chapter 5
Michelle got up early, looking forward to going back to work at Heroshi Corp. after a two week absence. She wondered what kind of mess she would find in her property management department. She smiled, anticipating a bit of chaos.
She’d left without notice except for a telephone call from Rod, her boyfriend, who was managing director and comptroller of the whole multi-national corporation. Rod worked at the Heroshi headquarters in Japan. Her own boss, President of Heroshi Hawaii, Tom Mitsuto, couldn’t fire her or complain when someone so high in the corporation requested Michelle take a two week leave of absence.
As soon as she got out of bed, Michelle practiced Karate for an hour. It was a ritual she started a few years ago, after being attacked and raped while she was on a trip to Las Vegas. She vowed she would never again be at the mercy of a violent man without being able to defend herself. Now she knew she could break bones and even kill if necessary to save her own life.
Michelle also kept a gun in her bedside cabinet drawer. The scars she had received were permanent and visible on her body. She believed the invisible ones had been conquered; the panic attacks she couldn’t control or anticipate. Rod had helped her, and Heather’s friendship was also a vital part of her recovery. One of the perks had been some glorious sex with Rod after several years of enforced abstinence. In the aftermath of the rape, for years she couldn’t stand a man’s touch—it would send her into severe spasms of terror.
The most important thing for the recovery, though, was that she had learned the truth about the attack. They say the truth will set you free, and in this case it had. She knew who attacked her and, most importantly, who ordered the attack.
Samson Stoker was a huge man that Omar had adopted as a boy in Bogota, Columbia. Even as a child, Omar had seen Samson’s potential. He’d been one of a homeless gang of youngsters that ran wild on the streets in that South American town. When Omar found him, Samson had been badly beaten and his tongue was cut out.
Samson grew into a huge man who was slightly brain damaged and mute. He didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. Omar had used his strength, loyalty and willingness to do anything for him because he had saved Samson from a wretched life on the streets, and given him one of luxury. When Omar told Samson to rape Michelle, he did it with relish.
Now that Michelle knew who had attacked her, the fear of men and panic attacks she experience had subsided. But Samson hurt her so badly during the violent rape she had landed in the hospital for a month and had lost an ovary. The doctors said it was unlikely she would ever have children.
Lucifer was still acting needy when Michelle finished her hour of Karate and took a shower. He followed her around so closely, she almost tripped over him a few times. She fed him and then petted him soothingly for a while.
Michelle quickly flipped through the Honolulu Star newspaper as she sipped her first cup of coffee. Then she stopped, transfixed by the picture on the Society Page. Heather was laughing, high up in the air as Mike held her up over his head on the dance floor. He was looking up at her and smiling. It was a darling picture.
The
