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  Having him here, in her bedroom, was almost beyond bearing.

  “Who said we’re in the same pay grade? Just do what you came to do. Verify that DAVID has been removed from my home workstation.”

  Bateman sat in her office chair and accessed Ying’s main drive. It didn’t take long for him to scan through all three machines. “It’s gone.” He squinted at her. “But I’m sure it’s not really gone.”

  “None of your business, Special Agent Bateman. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

  He did, and she slammed and locked the door behind him. Ginger rubbed against her legs, whining as she sensed Sophie’s distress. “Thank God I’m seeing Alika. That will take my mind off the kind of day this was.”

  Sophie showered and dressed in her best matching underwear, a pearl-colored satin set from a cousin who was a designer. She put on a whisk of mascara and a swish of scarlet lipstick and donned her favorite earrings, fat baroque pearls the size of cherries on little chains that swung when she turned her head. She dressed in black jeans and a tank top because that’s what she usually wore. She didn’t want him to think she was overly excited about their date.

  She fed Ginger. She paced around.

  Time went by. Alika didn’t show. She texted him a half-hour after he was supposed to be there. “Still going to sushi tonight?”

  No reply.

  Sophie poured herself a glass of wine, sat in the chair that faced a view of glorious setting sun reflecting off a burnished metal ocean. She got up and paced some more, annoyed. Irritated that she was annoyed.

  She missed DAVID and her FBI work on her computer with the sudden fierceness like an addict must feel, longing for the needle. Her oblivion was being ‘wired in,’ and without her work, she was aimless, floating. Unplugged.

  Alika’s no-show wasn’t helping. She called his phone and it went immediately to voice mail.

  “Hey, it’s Alika. Leave a message.”

  “Hey, Alika. Sophie here. Thought we were getting together? Well, I guess it didn’t work out. Give me a call when you get this.” She tried to keep her tone free of anything but slight puzzlement.

  She hung up. A sense of loss, strangling and disproportionately terrible, clenched her stomach. She wanted to cry. Angry and agitated, she got on her treadmill and walked just to move while she waited. Ginger watched anxiously.

  Another hour went by. The sun was long gone and the phone still didn’t ring.

  Sophie took off her jeans, tank shirt and pretty underwear and put them away. She should never have let herself care about him.

  She dressed in her running clothes, plugged headphones into her phone, and stuck it in the pocket of her running shorts along with keys and pepper spray. She broke into a jog on the sidewalk with Ginger trotting at her side. The lights of the city cast pools of amber on the sidewalk and familiar storefronts were rendered mysterious in the darkness. They ended up at Ala Moana Beach Park, much further than she’d intended to go.

  It took that long running for Sophie to feel herself again after the blow of rejection. This was the first time Sophie really considered that she might need therapy, as Dr. LaSota had suggested.

  A man hadn’t come to pick her up for a date. It wasn’t the end of anybody’s world and shouldn’t feel like it. That Alika could affect her that way frightened her. It was ridiculous, disproportional.

  The run had also given her time to tick over all the information she’d gathered on the case. She came to the same conclusions about the saboteur and Security Solutions as she had earlier. For the short term, they could focus on finding the leak connection between Security Solutions and the kidnapping case, and as they did so, the FBI could build something long-term against Security Solutions, perhaps even use the company as a window to spy on their criminal clients.

  It felt good to walk along the sand at the park and finally sit, gazing out at the ocean. Sophie watched the moon rise over the water and listened to the waves. The water smelled briny from nearby Ala Wai Canal, and the rigging of boats in the yacht harbor clanged in a melody accompanied by the rustling of palm fronds in the light breeze. Ginger flopped in the sand beside her, panting.

  She was tired, too, but satisfied with all she’d done that day. It didn’t matter so much about Alika. She’d be fine even if things didn’t work out and he’d changed his mind about her.

  Ginger suddenly sprang to her feet, panting with excitement. A man was jogging toward them on the hard sand at the edge of the water, a dog on a leash at his side.

  “Sit, Ginger!” Sophie exclaimed, but she’d let go of the leash while relaxing in the sand, and in the darkness, couldn’t find it. The Lab leaped away and ran down the beach to greet the other dog with an indiscriminate display of friendliness.

  Sophie ran after the lab and almost collided with the jogger as he tried to untangle his dog from Ginger’s advances.

  “Heel, Anubis!” His voice was sharp.

  Sophie finally got a hold of Ginger’s collar and wrestled her away from his dog. That animal stood like a statue, moonlight outlining a Doberman’s sleek body shape and cropped, pointed ears.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sophie exclaimed. “She got away from me. She’s a Lab—no sense of dignity whatsoever.”

  The man was as still as his dog. He topped her by several inches. She felt his gaze even in the dark, and somehow it made her wish she could see him. “You should be careful out here by yourself. There are all kinds of people here in the park.”

  “I can handle myself,” she said, pepper spray and phone a reassuring weight in her pocket—not to mention her combat skills. “But thanks for the warning. And sorry for Ginger’s bad manners.”

  He gave a brief nod, and she heard the clink of metal as he heeled his dog, and then, the man and the Doberman were jogging away down the beach, black shadows against silver sand and moon-dappled ocean.

  Sophie frowned, wishing somehow they’d talked some more, that he hadn’t just taken off. Something about him and the dog Anubis was magnetic. But she needed to get home and get to bed. Tomorrow was bound to come too soon, and be full of challenges.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sophie’s phone woke her with Alika’s Rocky ringtone. She reached over to the end table in the pitch-dark the blackout curtains guaranteed, and fumbled it up to her ear. “Hey.” Her voice was husky with sleep.

  “Sophie? Sophie Ang?”

  It wasn’t Alika’s voice, but it was familiar.

  “Marcus! Thought this was Alika. What time is it?” She squinted toward the red numbers of the clock by her computers.

  “Four a.m.” Kamuela’s voice was grim. “I’m sorry to be calling you this way, but I saw your number was the last one Alika’s phone received.”

  “What’s happened?” Sophie could barely force the words out past the sudden constriction of her throat.

  “We got a call. Someone beat up Alika. They found him outside his warehouse at the docks. He’s…” Sophie could picture Kamuela’s face and see the way the big Hawaiian detective pinched the bridge of his nose when he was troubled. “He’s still alive.”

  “Oh my God,” Sophie whispered. “Where?”

  “Queen’s Hospital.”

  “I’m on my way.” Sophie hung up and turned on the light. She sprang out of bed. Ginger leapt off, wagging her tail as if something exciting and fun was going to happen.

  He’s still alive, he’s still alive he’s still alive. Sophie hauled on her clothes, grabbed her weapon and creds, and drove to the hospital in a dawn so new it hadn’t begun to stain the day. She hurried to meet fellow agent Marcella Scott and Marcus Kamuela in the waiting room. Marcella looked beautiful even in the dawn, her chocolate-brown curls caught up in a careless knot and her FBI outfit hugging a curvy figure. Marcella had known for over a year how she felt about Alika.

  “Oh, girl. I’m so sorry this happened.” Marcella hugged Sophie’s stiff body tightly. Kamuela put a hand on Sophie’s arm to get her attention.

  �
��Alika’s in a coma. Looks like it was a pretty systematic beating. He’s got broken bones and probably some internal injuries, according to the doc I got a hold of. It wasn’t anything like a fair fight—pipes and bats, and multiple aggressors. Most people would be dead right now.”

  Sophie swayed, and was grateful Marcella had a good hold on her. He was fighting for his life while I was getting annoyed with him for forgetting our date.

  She felt disembodied. This was a dream. She just hadn’t woken up yet. She wasn’t really here, in this waiting room with its fluorescent lights, plastic palm, and dog-eared copies of Highlights For Children.

  She’d grabbed the nearest clothes to put on, and realized that the black jeans and tank were what she’d been planning to wear on their date.

  “He’s going to be fine, right?” Sophie’s eyes felt open too wide, but she couldn’t seem to blink.

  “They don’t know. His family’s on their way over from Kaua`i.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “No one’s seeing him.”

  That’s when it finally sank in that it was really bad. He might not make it.

  She reached behind her, groping with her hand, and eased down into a molded plastic waiting room chair. “What do you know?”

  “He called and told me, yesterday afternoon, that you’d given him my number to talk to me about the harassment he was getting from the Boyz who control the Honolulu construction trade. I opened a case for him. I’ve been aware for a while that there was graft going on, but it’s been too big and deep to do anything about, and I didn’t have a case to dig into. I was glad to hear from him. I had someone who was ready to go up against the Boyz, testify, get them shut down.” Kamuela pushed a hand through thick black hair, shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. He told me about it just a few days ago. Said things had been escalating, that he’d had some drug trace planted at his warehouse and the cops were looking at him for importing.”

  “I know. I found all that in a file on him. Opened by a detective I’ve got concerns about. But now we’re thinking it’s going to be a long haul. I hate to tell you this—he was set up pretty well. Initial search of the warehouse showed a lot of drug trace. So much I’m not going to be able to dismiss it. The scene was set up to appear that Alika was taken out by someone whose toes he stepped on importing drugs. You sure you know this guy?” Kamuela cocked his head, made eye contact with her. His gaze was all cop.

  “I think so,” Sophie whispered. “You can’t let this happen. Please dig deeper.”

  “Don’t worry,” Marcella sat beside her and hooked an arm around her shoulder. “Marcus will do everything he can.”

  “We were just starting to date.” Sophie looked down at her hands. “I mean, things were just getting going. I can’t believe it.”

  “Shitty all around,” Kamuela said. “Well, I’m going back to the scene. We’ve got a uniform here to make sure he’s safe in ICU. So it’s a waiting game right now.”

  “Marcella, can we open an FBI case? I mean, if there’s corruption in HPD?” Sophie asked.

  “We don’t know that yet,” Kamuela said sharply. Sophie didn’t blame him for being defensive but she knew organized crime in something as big as the construction trade thrived through a system of kickbacks and payoffs across a number of levels. Alika Wolcott, a small fish developer from another island, was being made an example of.

  He had a few friends those gangsters would have to contend with.

  “Marcella.” Sophie made eye contact with her friend. “Please.”

  Marcella tossed her head and the knot let go of her long chocolate hair. She scooped it up impatiently and re-knotted it. “Of course we’ll get involved. Just as soon as local law enforcement asks for support from the FBI. You need our resources to battle corruption in the construction trade, right?” She poked Kamuela’s broad chest with a scarlet-tipped finger.

  He groaned. “This is damned awkward, woman. Let me get into the case first. I barely talked to Alika before the shit hit the fan.”

  “Clearly you need our resources. You’re overwhelmed and there are concerns about leaks in the department,” Marcella argued.

  They were clustered together in the waiting room, their voices low and heads close together, when Sophie heard the sound of feet in the hall. She turned and saw a trio of people hurrying toward them. She shrank back in her chair at the sight of a regal Hawaiian woman, elegantly dressed in black slacks and a flowered blouse, leaning on a distinguished-looking Caucasian man’s arm. This had to be Alika’s mother and stepfather. An older woman in a dark muumuu followed, silver hair wound into a crown on her head.

  “Where’s the staff?” the man asked. “We’re looking for where Alika Wolcott’s room is.”

  “I’m Detective Marcus Kamuela—in charge of his case. And you are?” Kamuela stepped up to them, hand extended.

  “His mother. Lehua Wolcott. My husband, Sean. And this is my mother, Esther Ka`awai,” the woman answered as they shook.

  Sophie had heard of this family, both from Alika and from her friend Lei, who had met them in cases on Kaua`i. Marcella stood up and joined the introductions.

  “I remember you from Kaua`i,” Marcella said to Alika’s parents. “I’m sorry to see you again in such terrible circumstances. This is Special Agent Sophie Ang.” She gestured to Sophie, still seated and trying to become invisible. “They were dating.”

  Three pairs of eyes fastened on Sophie. She stood awkwardly, surprised Marcella had introduced her that way—it made the relationship seem more serious than Sophie was ready for. “Hello.”

  Lehua Wolcott took two steps and embraced her. “He talked about you all the time.” She let out a sob. Her husband drew her away and into his arms and Sophie was left looking into the deep, penetrating brown eyes of Esther Ka`awai. Sophie had heard of the famous Kaua`i wisewoman, known for psychic abilities and powerful connections in the Hawaiian community.

  “I’m honored to meet you.” She inclined her head respectfully.

  “Alika says you are a talented fighter,” Esther said.

  “Not good enough to do anything to protect him.” Sophie’s eyes filled suddenly. The older woman embraced her, and Lehua broke into fresh tears. Sophie glimpsed Kamuela leaving, his athletic shoes squeaking as he strode down the hall. Eventually, she disentangled herself from Esther’s arms and found a tissue beside the plastic couch and passed the box around.

  “We haven’t actually spoken to any staff about how he’s doing,” Sophie said, when Lehua, Esther and Alika’s stepfather had pulled themselves together. “Since you’re family you should be able to get more information.”

  “Absolutely.” Sean Wolcott walked to the empty glass-fronted window and wiggled the slider, pushing it open. He stuck his head inside the nurse’s station.

  “Hello? Hello? We need some information out here,” he boomed into the interior.

  It wasn’t long before one of the locked emergency doors opened. A doctor and nurse came toward them.

  Their faces were grave, and Sophie found herself clutching Esther Ka`awai’s arm as the Wolcotts pressed against each other. Marcella stood off to the side working her phone, but she pushed away from the wall to hear the news.

  “I’m Dr. Kagawa.” The doctor took in their names as they introduced themselves. He addressed his remarks to the Wolcotts. “I want to give you some preliminary findings. These next twenty-four hours are going to be critical. I just finished up with your son’s surgery. He’s in a coma right now, and that’s a good thing. He has a fracture to the right side of his skull and a lot of swelling in his brain. Being unconscious is going to give the swelling time to go down. He has shattered ribs, a broken arm and a fractured tibia.” Dr. Kagawa looked down at his clipboard at the sound of their gasps. “I also had to go in to repair some internal bleeding.”

  Alika’s magnificent body had been beaten and broken almost to the point of death.

  Sophie’s stomach wa
s so tight she found herself hunching over, as if trying to protect her own internal organs. “Is he going to live?”

  “I can’t say right now,” Kagawa gave her a level gaze. “But I know he’s a strong, healthy young man and he obviously has a lot to live for right here in this room.”

  Lehua broke into fresh sobs and Esther began praying, sitting down on one of the hard plastic chairs, her hands folded. Sean Wolcott held his wife and Marcella held Sophie close.

  It was excruciatingly awkward to be here with the family in their extremity, when she didn’t have words for the pain that twisted her stomach and strangled her breath. She hated emotion. She felt her face settling into that familiar opaque mask. Her eyes were dry.

  “We’ll let you know in the morning when he can receive visitors. You folks might as well go on home. We don’t have accommodations here for you, and it’s going to be hours before we know anything more.” Dr. Kagawa and the nurse said goodbye and disappeared back into the off-limits area through the swinging doors.

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Lehua sat down beside her mother on one of the hard chairs. “Sophie, we’ll call you as soon as there is any news. What’s your number?”

  Sophie rattled it off automatically and got Lehua’s as well. She said goodbye, and walked stiffly down the hall, arms wrapped around her waist. Marcella draped an arm over her shoulder.

  “I’m already moving on this with Marcus,” Marcella said as they went through the doors of the hospital into sunlight that felt shatteringly bright to Sophie. “I got the okay from Waxman.”

  “Good. I’ll pick up the computer end.”

  “No. You’re definitely not working this case. Waxman’s orders. You have plenty to do on your own cases right now, without getting into something that’s bound to be emotionally compromising.”

  Sophie spun toward her friend. “You’re assuming this is such a big deal to me. In fact, I wish you hadn’t introduced me the way you did to his family. He was my friend and my coach. We kissed a couple times, had one date.”