Swimsuit - James Patterson [45]
Kai McBride turned back to the camera.
“I’m going to take a wild flying leap and say that Lieutenant Jackson’s no-comment dodgeball was a confirmation, Gloria. We’re all waiting now for a positive ID that the victim was Kim McDaniels. This is Kai McBride, reporting from Maui.”
Chapter 57
THAT MORNING at low tide the roof of a car had looked at first to the passing jogger like the shell of a giant sea turtle. When he realized what it was, he’d called the police and they’d responded in force.
Now the crane had lowered the waterlogged car to the beach. The fire department crew, search and rescue, and cops from two islands were standing in groups on the sand, watching the Pacific flow out of the chassis.
A cop opened one of the back doors and called out, “Two DBs wearing their seat belts. I recognize them. Jesus God. It’s the McDanielses. The parents.”
My stomach dropped, and I spewed a string of curse words that didn’t make any literal sense, just me venting all the bile I could without getting physically violent or sick.
Eddie Keola was standing beside me outside the yellow tape that ran from a branch of driftwood to a chunk of lava rock thirty yards away. Keola was not only my ticket to police intel and crime scenes, but I was starting to think of him as the younger brother I never had.
Actually, we looked nothing alike, except that we both looked like shit right now.
More vehicles pulled up, some with sirens, some without, all braking on the potholed asphalt running above and parallel to the beach, a road that had been closed for repairs.
These new additions to the law enforcement fleet were black SUVs, and the men who got out of them wore jackets stenciled “FBI.”
A cop friend of Eddie’s came over to us, said, “Only thing I can tell you is that the McDanielses were seen having dinner at the Kamehameha Hostel. They were with a white man, six foot or so, grayish hair and glasses. They left with him, and that’s all we’ve got. Based on that description, the guy they had dinner with could’ve been anyone.”
“Thanks,” said Eddie.
“It’s okay, but now you guys really have to leave.”
Eddie and I walked up a sandy ramp to Eddie’s Jeep.
I was glad to go.
I didn’t want to see the corpses of those two good people I’d come to care about so very much. Eddie drove me back to the Marriott, and we sat in the lot for a while just chewing it over.
The deaths of everyone attached to this crime spree had been premeditated, calculated, almost artistic, the work of a very smart and practiced killer who’d left no clues behind. I felt sorry for the people who had to solve this crime. And now Aronstein was terminating my all-expenses-paid Hawaiian holiday.
“When’s your flight?” Keola asked.
“Around two.”
“Want me to drive you? I’d be happy to do it.”
“Thanks, anyway. I’ve got to return my car.”
“I’m sorry how this turned out,” said Keola.
“This is going to be one of those cases, if it gets solved at all, it’ll be like… seventeen years from now. A deathbed confession,” I said. “Or a deal with a jailhouse snitch.”
A little while later, I said good-bye to Eddie, threw my things together, and checked out of the hotel. I was going back to L.A. unresolved and disconsolate, feeling like I’d left a big piece of myself behind. I would’ve bet anything I owned that for me, at least, the story was over.
I was wrong again.
Part Three
BODY COUNT
Chapter 58
THE VERY GOOD-LOOKING gentleman with the white-blond hair walked down a red, silk-lined corridor ending in a breeze-swept lobby. A stone desk rose out of the floor at the far end of the room, and a young clerk received the guest with a smile and lowered eyes.
“Your suite is ready for you, Mr. Meile. Welcome back to the Pradha Han.”
“Delighted to be here,” Henri said. He pushed his horn-rimmed glasses to the top of his head as he signed the credit card slip. “Did you keep the gulf warm for me, Rahpee?”
“Oh, yes sir. We would not disappoint our precious guest.”
Henri opened the door