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  Wired Secret

  Paradise Crime, Book 7

  Toby Neal

  Copyright Notice

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  © Toby Neal 2018

  http://tobyneal.net

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-9997022-2-2

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9997022-3-9

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  Cover Design: Jun Ares [email protected]

  Format Design: Jamie Davis, Vellum

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  Contents

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Acknowledgments

  Excerpt Wired Fear

  About the Author

  More Titles from Toby Neal!

  Connect With Toby

  Epilogue

  “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets.”

  ~Gloria Stuart

  Chapter One

  Sometimes justice wasn't fair.

  Security specialist Sophie Ang stared with dislike at the twitchy blonde woman on the bed in the jail's infirmary. Holly Rayme’s gaunt face was blotchy with the green and yellow of fading bruising.

  “I am in hell.” Rayme picked at a scab on the back of her hand as she addressed Sophie, Detective Kamani Freitan, and Hazel Matsue, a U.S. Marshal brought in to interview her for inclusion in the national Witness Protection Program. “You have to get me out of here.”

  “Things could actually be a lot worse.” Freitan said. The tall, voluptuous mixed Hawaiian woman exuded volatility. Ancient Hawaiian chiefesses had accompanied their men into battle, and in another age, Freitan would have been perfectly in character carrying a club ringed with sharks’ teeth instead of the police issue Glock she currently wore. “You've been hiding out in a soft bed in the infirmary. Got your own TV, even.”

  “I had to go through detox this week in this supposed comfy bed with my own TV. You think that wasn't hell?”

  “You drug, you lose. And it would have been a lot worse out in gen pop. You’ve had protection outside your door 24/7. But if that protection is going to continue, we need to know we have your full cooperation.”

  Rayme’s watery blue eyes blinked. “You don’t give a shit about me. I get that, loud and clear.”

  “You made your living robbing and extorting people. And now you’re going to get out of jail,” Freitan said. “I don’t have to like that. Or you.”

  “We know you've been through a hard time, Holly.” Sophie stepped forward to try to defuse the tension as Matsue looked on, arms folded. “But you had medical support, and you’re through the worst of detox. You’re fortunate. Ms. Matsue here is willing to take you into protective custody, provide you with a new identity, and relocate you until you can testify.”

  “Yes. I'm here to interview you, do your intake, and explain the program.” Matsue was a slender woman with a triangular face. Though she wore black pants, a white shirt and a shiny gold Marshal’s badge, Matsue had an innate style that set her apart, conveyed by deep red lipstick and an angular, asymmetrical bobbed haircut. She would have looked completely at home in Paris or Madrid rather than in the dingy jail infirmary with its bloom of ceiling mold and lingering smell of Lysol. “Do you understand why you've been referred to the Witness Protection program, Ms. Rayme? And that you must comply with our procedures and directives? The U.S. Marshals Service has a one hundred percent success rate in protecting its clients if they follow WITSEC directions and protocols.”

  “All this ‘special treatment’ is because I’ll be testifying against the Changs and helping you bring down a crime family. But I don't see that I have much choice,” Rayme grumbled. “I know I’m lucky to be alive. My boyfriend Jimmy isn’t.”

  Jim Webb and Holly Rayme had been involved in an investigation Sophie had just completed that had resulted in the apprehension of the Chang family’s sadistic enforcer, Akane Chang. Holly’s boyfriend had not survived an assassination attempt in the general population of the jail once the couple’s importance as witnesses became evident, and Holly had barely survived her own attack.

  “Can I turn this prisoner over to your custody?” Freitan asked Matsue. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “I have some paperwork for Ms. Rayme to fill out and forms for you to sign.” Matsue handed paperwork on a clipboard to Rayme. “Once it’s done, we can process her out of here.” Matsue turned to address Sophie. “You’ve been a part of this team since I got here, but I’m unclear on your role, Ms. Ang.”

  “I work for a private firm, Security Solutions.” Sophie’s ongoing attachment to the case had been a new development. She and her partner Jake Dunn had wrapped up their contract to find a missing girl, and she’d tried to resume the vacation and hiking trip for which she’d come to the Big Island. Only days later, she’d been contacted by her employer to assist in security and support for Holly Rayme. “The families of Akane Chang’s victims contracted with Security Solutions to pay for my services to support regular law enforcement.”

  “The U.S. Marshals Service does not work with private entities,” Matsue said frostily.

  “You want to work with this chick,” Freitan said. “She’s former FBI and a computer wizardess. Can’t hurt to have her in your back pocket.”

  “And she’s a badass bitch with a mean left hook,” Rayme volunteered. “I happen to know. She and her partner were the ones to find out our part in the hustle we did with Akane Chang. And the only reason I’m saying anything nice is because her partner adopted our dog, and she can help keep me alive.”

  Endorsement by these two unlikely allies almost made Sophie smile. “I am on retainer, and available to help and support you,” she told Matsue. “If you choose not to work with me, I will help from the sidelines. We should at least talk so I can explain how my skill set might be of use to you.” Sophie held Matsue’s skeptical gaze.

  “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got perps to bust and the day’s a-wasting,” Freitan said. “See you ladies at the trial.” She turned and headed for the door.

  As F
reitan’s hand touched the knob, an alarm ululated outside. The dome light out in the hallway began spinning, throwing red beams across Freitan. The muffled crack of a gunshot sounded out in the hall.

  “Shit!” Freitan drew her weapon and flattened herself against the doorjamb, reaching over to turn the heavy silver bolt that locked the door. “We need to stay in here and guard the prisoner.”

  “Lower the blind over the window, Detective!” Matsue barked. “Ms. Rayme, get down off the bed and behind some cover!”

  Sophie, as a civilian, had surrendered her Glock upon entering the jail. She felt its loss keenly as she helped Rayme, groaning and exclaiming, down off the bed. “I’ve had experience with an attack in a room like this. This equipment makes good cover,” Sophie told Rayme as she maneuvered the heavy metal hospital bed sideways into a horizontal position facing the window. “Stay back here with me. We’ll be fine.”

  Freitan pulled the plastic retractable blind down over the bulletproof observation window as Matsue joined her. “Let’s each cover a point of entry.”

  The two law enforcement agents bracketed the covered window and locked door, weapons drawn. Freitan barked into her radio, asking for information, but no one replied.

  Steps thundered outside in the hallway. More shots rang out. Yelling added to the cacophony of the electronic alarm. Sophie fumbled her phone out of her pocket. She had upgraded recently to a satellite phone, but when she thumbed it on, No Service showed in the window. “Foul stench of a week-old corpse.”

  “What’s that you’re saying?” Rayme whispered. Her teeth were chattering and her eyes were wide in her bruised face. “I’m scared too.”

  “I curse in Thai sometimes, my native tongue,” Sophie said. She held up her phone. “Either of you getting a signal over there?”

  “Nope,” Freitan said. “But reception’s never good in this building.”

  “I can usually get a few bars. This is weird,” Matsue said. “I’m guessing someone’s got a jammer.”

  Sophie’s heart rate was up, but she wasn’t unduly alarmed. Three highly trained professionals, two of them armed, were barricaded in with Holly Rayme, and this disturbance was likely not even related to their prisoner. She smiled at Rayme. “Try to stay calm. We’ve got you covered.”

  More gunshots and deafening footsteps in the hallway were not reassuring. Neither was the shout, “Rayme’s in the infirmary somewhere. Just start trying doors!”

  The knob rattled. The door shook under pounding with some metal object. The impacts sent medical supplies piled on the shelves crashing to the floor.

  Rayme let out a squeal of fear after one particularly loud smash, moving to clutch Sophie. Sophie wrapped her arms around the trembling woman. She covered Rayme’s mouth with a hand. “Don’t let them hear you,” she whispered in Rayme’s ear.

  A flash of memory burst across Sophie’s brain.

  Sophie was the one being held in someone’s arms. A hand covered her mouth. A desperate voice whispered, “Don’t let them hear you.” Suppressed memory came flooding back. Sophie’s arms tightened around Rayme.

  The woman holding Sophie had been her beloved nanny, Armita.

  Armita had fought like a tigress when kidnappers broke into seven-year-old Sophie’s room, screaming and beating at the men with a broom. Sophie’s last sight of Armita had been of her nanny, head bleeding, sprawled on the ground unconscious as masked men in black carried Sophie away.

  She had never seen Armita again.

  After the ransom was paid and Sophie was returned, her mother told her that Armita had quit because she didn’t want to work at a home where she’d be in danger. Armita had been hurt because of Sophie; and she’d left because of Sophie.

  Self-blame had been a heart-splinter of Sophie’s ever since. As Sophie held Holly Rayme’s trembling, sweating body in her arms, she let that splinter go. Not my fault. I was just a child.

  Another missing piece from her past to ask her mysterious mother, Pim Wat, about…

  The heavy crash of something metal hitting the covered viewing window made Sophie hunch instinctively over Rayme, protecting the woman with her body, as intruders bashed at the safety glass, bowing it in and shattering it.

  Sophie peeked over their crude barrier. Two lean, dark men in prison orange filled the window’s opening, shoving aside the dangling blind with their hands, pushing the sheet of glass, held together by wire, out of the way.

  And then, Freitan and Matsue were up and firing. Sophie and Rayme curled close, covering their ears as they hid behind the bed.

  The burning, tangy scent of weapons discharge.

  Ears ringing, assaulted by gunfire in a small, enclosed space.

  Curses and screams.

  A long moment passed as silence fell, broken by Rayme’s sobbing.

  Sophie lifted her head to peer out from cover. Matsue and Freitan stood in identical shooting stances, aiming their weapons at the empty, crude opening in the window.

  More running, yelling, and gunfire out in the hall, this time passing by. No further incursions.

  “Suspects are down.” Freitan clicked the deadbolt open. “I’m going to see what’s happening.” She was out the door before Matsue could object.

  The Marshal turned wide, tilted brown eyes upon Sophie. “You two okay?”

  “Yes.” Sophie tried her phone again. “The jammer is off. I’ve got a signal.”

  She dialed 911 and was told that backup was on its way and the riot was almost under control.

  Rayme wriggled out of Sophie’s arms and adjusted her gaping hospital gown. “Thanks. Almost seemed like you cared for a moment there.”

  “I always do the right thing no matter how I feel about someone personally,” Sophie said. Rayme winced, then crawled back up onto the bed and pulled the sheet up over her head.

  Matsue came to stand over Sophie. “If what you just said is true, then we will get along and work together just fine.” She turned to Holly Rayme, still hidden under the sheet. “Your application to WITSEC is hereby approved.”

  Chapter Two

  Alika Wolcott had arrived in Hilo yesterday, flying into the airport on his Bell Jet Ranger. On island for business, he was shopping for exotic hardwoods to put some finishing touches on his new, eco-friendly Kaua`i development.

  He had been trying Sophie’s phone for the last hour. She’d texted him a new number the previous week, saying only that the other phone had been broken. But as usual, he suspected there was more to it than that.

  He couldn’t wait to see her. When the opportunity to look for finish trim for some cabinetry materials presented itself, he took the excuse to fly to the Big Island.

  Sitting in the helicopter, he monitored the police band on his radio. The band was alive with a major emergency involving the jail. Alika had been studying the law enforcement codes used in communication, interested in anything that had to do with something Sophie might be involved in.

  He locked up the helicopter and walked across the tarmac to the airport area, carrying his overnight duffel, and caught a shuttle to a nearby car rental agency. He secured a work truck for three days, hopefully enough time to find the wood he needed—and to see Sophie at least once.

  Seated in the truck, Alika tried her number again, almost a reflex; but this time, she picked up.

  “Alika!” Sophie’s husky voice with that accent gave him “chicken skin.” He could hear noise in the background: raised voices, clattering. “I’m at the jail. There’s a disturbance. This isn’t a good time.”

  His heart rate spiked. “Are you okay? Are you safe?”

  “Yes. I believe so. Though the exact extent of the riot and its aftermath are still being determined and contained.”

  “Holy shit! Well, I just called because I wanted to let you know that I’m on the island and would like to see you while I’m here.”

  There was a short pause. He could tell how distracted Sophie was by her lack of response and the brisk, “That’s fine. I’ll ca
ll you later. Goodbye,” with which she ended the call.

  Alika stared down at his phone. Never a good idea to get his expectations up when it came to Sophie. She’d made him no promises. He had made her none either. Too bad for him that the mere sound of her voice turned his innards to mush.

  He had come here for work, and he had work to do. Enough with the navel-gazing.

  Alika fired up the truck and programmed the address of the exotic hardwoods sawmill he had come to visit into the GPS. He’d call her tonight and take a temperature check on dinner.

  Chapter Three

  Byron Chang laced his fingers together over his belly and leaned back in his leather chair. He narrowed his eyes at his cousin Terence, seated across from him in the high-ceilinged office of the downtown Hilo warehouse building where Chang Incorporated conducted a legit import/export business. “I’m not a patient man, cuz. We need to get my bruddah out dat jail.”

  “I’m working on it.” Terence handled legal and computer-related business for the family. “But you need to acknowledge that Akane’s habits have drawn too much attention.”

  Terence was dressed, as usual, in hipster jeans with some kind of fancy basketball shoes and a tight black T-shirt. He looked like something out of a freakin’ college catalog, and he talked like it too. “Just telling you like it is, Byron. Akane knows that we would cover him for his work for the family, but this extracurricular shit he was into…well, he’s on his own for that.”