Blood Orchids (24 page)
Chapter 48
Everything was in its place: the paintings, the Japanese sand garden, the doctor in her lounger. This felt good to Lei and she breathed a little easier as she sat back on the couch in Dr. Wilson’s office.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where do you want to begin?”
“I don’t know.”
They sat in silence for a while. Lei took the black stone from Mary’s memorial out of her pocket and rubbed it in both hands. It felt substantial enough to anchor her, a tiny black bit of the earth’s blood that would always remind her of her lost friend.
“Okay then. Why don’t you begin at the beginning. Tell me about child Lei.”
“Why? What’s that got to do with trauma debriefing, which is what I’m here for?” The old defensiveness raised its voice. Lei wished it would shut up.
“Everything has to do with everything else—you know that by now. So begin at the beginning, and it will lead to the end.”
So Lei told about losing her father to a drug bust. About how that loss led her mother Maylene further into addiction, how Charlie Kwon came into their lives. What Charlie did and how he’d made her Damaged Goods.
Now she remembered everything, and couldn’t dissociate anymore, even when she wanted to. In the midst of all that, she had been stalked by a rapist and murderer. A man who saw himself as an artist. A man who had betrayed all their trust, whom she’d killed with her bare hands.
She described how she’d been with and broken up with Stevens. She told about an illegitimate son named Ray who desperately wanted to prove himself worthy of inclusion in a powerful crime family. Ray recruited his half sister Anela into a revenge plot against their father’s killer and his daughter.
Anela sent the panties and hair, and gleaned information about Lei’s sexual abuse from Kwon in prison. Ray had masterminded the stalking campaign, and when that wasn’t enough to impress Healani, he’d tried to kill Lei.
“I’m still missing some pieces. Where do the chases with the black truck come in?” Dr. Wilson asked. Lei dragged the tiny rake through the sand garden on the low table and set her stone in it, making a scene of simple beauty.
“I think the first time it was Ito. He was scoping out Mary or me, had taken his crime vehicle out to do that. The second time it was Ray.”
“Too many dark Toyotas in this town,” Dr. Wilson said. “Wow.”
“Wow is right.” Lei looked down at her hands. The right one was still in a cast, the webbing across her palm peeling and grubby, the left relatively unharmed. Her good hand—one of the only parts of her body that wasn’t bruised, scratched, bitten, or broken.
“They’re calling me Hurricane Lei in the station,” she said. “Funny nickname.”
“I heard.”
“It seems to fit.”
“It may not, anymore. That part is up to you now.”
“I just want to . . . get back to normal. I feel like I am always going to be covered with blood.” Lei shut her mouth, tightening her lips into a thin line. She saw Ito’s ruined eye, Mary’s bruises, or the faces of two drowned girls every time she closed her eyes. She pinched the web of her hand between her thumb and forefinger but it didn’t help.
“You’ve had more than your share, that’s for sure. Everyone is accounted for who needs to be, right?”
“I guess. Ross and Nagata interviewed Healani Chang. She’s claiming that Ray and Anela acted on their own. I think we just have to accept that though I wouldn’t be surprised if Healani instigated the whole thing.” She fiddled with the cast. “I’d love to find Charlie Kwon someday and kick his ass, but yeah, I guess things are pretty sewed up . . . I just can’t relax. I can’t take enough showers to feel clean.”
“That’s an understandable post-traumatic stress reaction. Be patient with yourself. Let’s talk every day until the flashbacks get better. It also might help to have your partner or Stevens stay with you for a little while.”
“Stevens—I don’t know what I’m going to do about him. I broke up with him and I don’t know why I don’t feel better about that.”
“Ambivalence maybe?”
“I guess.”
“Huh.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Lei said with a little smile. “It’s not a good sign when you say ‘huh.’”
“Really? Well, I go back to my original thought—sounds like you’re ambivalent about breaking up. Why did you?”
“Oh, damn.” Lei looked at the time on her cell phone. “Looks like our time is up, Dr. Wilson. Catch you tomorrow.” She got up and left with a little wave, pretending not to see the psychologist’s ironic smile.
Lei pulled into her driveway and got out of her truck, walking around to the passenger side. She opened the extended cab door.
Keiki lifted her head. She was lying in the back passenger seat, the white funnel collar still in place, her side bulky with strapping. Lei lifted the big dog and struggled toward the front porch.
Just then Tom ran up, sweaty in his running clothes.
“Oh my God, let me help!” he exclaimed.
“Be careful,” Lei cautioned, and Tom scooped Keiki into his arms. He carried her up the cement steps onto the porch, peering awkwardly over the big collar. Lei fumbled the key into the lock and they went inside.
“Holy crap, she’s big.” Tom panted as Lei punched in the deactivation code.
He carried Keiki into the living room and then knelt, lowering the Rottweiler onto the bed Lei had prepared for her, the futon covered with Keiki’s favorite ratty old blanket. Lei settled the dog, patting and stroking her. Keiki tried to rise again and Lei pushed her back.
“Just rest, baby. Everything’s going to be okay,” she soothed.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” Tom said in a low voice. “I was an ass.”
He was still kneeling beside Lei as he patted Keiki’s shining back. Lei had to grope to remember what he could be talking about. Ah, the confrontation in his kitchen.
“It’s okay.” She stood up. “Thanks for the help.”
“What happened?” He stood up as well, dark eyes concerned.
“She got shot.”
“Oh my God. Wow. Shit just keeps happening to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well, let me know if I can help with anything.”
“You sure showed up at a good time. Thanks for that.” She followed him and closed the door behind him as he left. The unsettled feeling she’d had about him was gone—he was just an awkward guy.
Lei went into the kitchen, sighed as she looked at the blood orchid’s fallen petals on the kitchen table. She picked up the neglected plant and the spotted one Tom had given her.
“Maybe now that the child molesters, stalkers, and rapists are out of the way I can go shopping,” Lei said over her shoulder. “Order pizza on me, okay Keiki?”
She went out into the backyard. The last of day was dying out of the sky in a conflagration to the west as she walked across the fallen white pinwheels of plumeria to her orchid bench. She misted the plants and picked a branch of the fragrant plumeria flowers, careful to avoid the sticky white sap, put the flowers in a vase and called for pizza. She and Keiki deserved a treat.
The doorbell rang as Lei sat beside Keiki with the TV on. She got up and put her eye to the peephole. Stevens stood there, holding an orchid plant. Her heart picked up speed.
“Hi.”
“Hey Lei. Heard a friend just got out of the hospital.”
Lei laughed nervously and reached for the plant, but Stevens put the orchid behind his back. He went around her and into the house, kneeling by Keiki on her pallet. The big dog lifted her head. He put the plant down beside her.
“Brought you something,” he said. The vivid spray of dendrobium looked like a flock of tiny yellow butterflies arcing over the dog. Keiki looked at him soulfully, then closed her eyes in bliss as he sat beside her, rubbing between her ears.
Lei ducked her head as she went into the kitchen. He’d told her he wasn’t accepting their breakup, and it was hard to hold out against an underhanded tactic like bringing her dog an orchid. She had to smile as she opened Stevens a beer, brought it to him as he sat beside Keiki on the floor.
“She sure is happy to see you.” The dog had fallen asleep with her head on his leg.
The doorbell rang again. Lei paid the pizza guy and brought the box over to the coffee table beside Stevens.
“Want some?” She opened the box.
“My timing is impeccable,” he said. “We bachelors have a way of dropping by about six p.m. and getting invited to dinner. Pono’s family gave me laulau last night.”
“Hmm, never thought of that. Bachelor timing—I should try it sometime.” Lei bit into a gooey slice, handing Stevens one on a paper towel.
A silence descended. A frisson of awareness of his nearness lifted the hair on the back of her neck, translated into an exquisite hyperfocus on the details of the room, the textures in her mouth, the muted movement of the TV screen. Lei wished she could get up and make herself an emergency vodka shot, maybe two.
They finished the pizza. Lei drank a glass of water instead and kept her eyes anywhere but on Stevens.
“So,” he said.
“So.”
“Did you hear the latest on Ray?”
“No. What’s the story?”
“He’s going to lockup soon as he leaves the hospital. Don’t think he can make bail and the Changs don’t appear to be picking up the tab.” Stevens leaned back against the couch, sipped his beer. “Healani Chang is sending us a message by leaving him in there.”
“I wish I hadn’t liked him. I guess I feel bad he’s paralyzed.”
“You kidding me? The guy kept asking you out. What do you think he meant to do to you once he had you alone?”
Lei thought back to the gun range, the strange expression in those changeable hazel eyes behind the plastic safety goggles as he asked her out for the last time. Good thing she’d been so determined to use up her ammo.
“Shit.”
“No shit,” Stevens answered. He took a sip of his beer. “Just like Ito. You did what had to be done.”
“Not really. I could have let him get away. He almost did.”
“After trying to kill you? After shooting Keiki?” Incredulity in his tone. They both looked at the big Rottweiler, snoring softly in her funnel collar, her head pillowed on Stevens’ thigh.
“You’re right. Letting him get away wasn’t an option.” She felt something dark unknotting inside of her. She hadn’t even realized she felt guilty.
Stevens put his hand over her good one where it rested on the trunk table.
“I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”
Lei looked down at the big hand covering hers.
He lifted it an inch, hovering above her hand. She could still feel faint heat, a magnetic tingling. She turned her palm up, reached up with her fingertip to the palm of his hand, drew it lightly down to his fingertip, and swiveled their hands so they were facing each other, palms touching upright.
She saw the hairs rise on his forearm, and he made a tiny sound.
She couldn’t look at him because she knew what she’d see—a longing that matched her own. Their fingers played together, dancing, saying all that couldn’t be said, and finally her hand curled up, resting cupped in his. He held it gently, lowered it to the tabletop. Warmth enfolded her through his fingers.
“Remember when I said we should wait to be together?” Stevens asked.
She nodded. Remembered that long-ago evening when he’d tried to set some rules.
“I told you I was messed up. I still am,” Lei said.
“I told you something then. It’s still true.”
“What?”
“That if you could work on trusting me, I could work on waiting. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“Okay.” She looked down at her curled hand resting in the cup of his. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. They don’t call me Hurricane Lei for nothing.”
Acknowlegements
This book would not have been possible without the help of many people: Cheri LaSota, my first editor, who whipped me and the MS into shape enough to attract an agent. Irene Webb, my tough and hardworking agent, led me to Kristen Weber—my second editor. Kristen, an expert in crime/mystery genre, helped me take this manuscript, and the ones that follow, to the next level.
J.L., a busy Texas detective, is my awesome crime consultant and has selflessly and ruthlessly read all my books for police authenticity. A writer himself, J.L.’s critique has been invaluable and his corrections of my butchered cop lingo and wrong procedure have been particularly helpful. He even offered links and examples of gear and technology law enforcement use.
Jamie Winfrey, local Molokai police sergeant, also read, gave her stamp of approval and answered questions about being a female officer in a male-dominated field, Hawaii police protocol, and the Glock .40 pistol. (She walks like a cop, even out of uniform. I saw it firsthand.)
My family must be acknowledged for putting up with me through the rollercoaster of this process: my daughter for reading many early drafts in spite of it Not Being Her Genre; my long suffering spouse and son who continued to root for me and promise to read it “when it’s in print.” Sister Bonny gave early and important feedback, and sister-in-law Linda became one of my most supportive “fans” and beta readers. Knowing you guys believe in Lei’s story has kept me going through sleepless nights and grumpy days.
Thanks also to my writing groups. You have been witnesses and torchbearers and assured me I wasn’t alone in the obsessions and passions of being a writer.
Most of all, thanks be to God, who deserves all the glory.
Look For These Coming Titles
In the Lei Crime Series
Torch Ginger
Black Jasmine
Broken Ferns
For more information, visit
TobyNeal.net
About the Author
Toby Neal was raised on Kauai in Hawaii and makes the Islands home after living elsewhere for “stretches of exile” to pursue education. Toby enjoys outdoor activities including bodyboarding, scuba diving, photography and hiking as well as writing. A mental health therapist, she credits that career with adding depth to the characters in the Lei Crime Series.
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