Dark Lava: Lei Crime Book 7 (Lei Crime Series) (12 page)

“
I’m not hungry. I think I’ll take a shower.”

“
That’s a good idea.”

He didn
’t resist as Lei took his hand, leading him into the bathroom—he understood her need to connect with him in the oldest way in the world. He wanted to as well, but felt muffled somehow, wrapped in cotton batting, unable to respond as she kissed him and touched him. He didn’t resist as she undressed him, kissing her way down his torso, playing with the button of his jeans. Kneeling before him, she looked up at him, a position that had never failed to arouse him before. Today he felt nothing but a slight embarrassment for both of them.

“
Are you okay?” Lei asked.

“
I don’t think so,” he said. “I can’t.”

“
I understand.” Lei undressed briskly in that un-self-conscious way she had, tossing the clothes in the hamper and walking into the shower. He followed, more slowly, realizing it wasn’t normal for him to want another shower after his earlier lengthy one, but still longing to feel clean. She sat him on the bench and this time she washed him, head to toe, with the washcloth and shampooed his hair herself.

He didn
’t feel any cleaner than he had before, after his long scrub-down earlier.

Sitting in the living room, he was grateful for Keiki
’s solid bulk as the dog seemed to sense something was wrong and pressed close to him as he sat on the couch. He drank a beer but refused the chili. Lei ate hers and finally set her bowl on the coffee table, picking up her beer.

“
Where do we start? I want the whole story of what happened.”

He took a sip, and the glass lip of the bottle rattled against his teeth. “
I don’t want to go there again today.”

She gave him a level stare. “
I need to know. Just the bare bones.”

“
Anchara called me and asked me to come help her.” He filled in the events. “Omura got a call while I was still in the interview room, confirming the baby is mine, and he’s on Oahu at the neonatal unit.”

“
About that. What are we going to do about that?”

“
That? You mean the baby. My baby.” He felt his neck getting hot. He knew it was unreasonable, but he didn’t like her tone.

“
Anchara’s baby, that you knew nothing about, and as far as I’m concerned, have no responsibility for.” Lei’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth as if she wished she could take back the words, but they’d been said.

“
I was wondering how you’d feel about this.”

“
Less than thrilled, to be honest.” She got up, an abrupt movement, and carried the bowl into the kitchen. He heard loud and unnecessary splashing and crashing from the kitchen sink.

He knew he should follow her, say something, offer comfort. He couldn
’t find the energy. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Anchara, her mouth moving, her hand reaching, that belly, astonishingly large, emerging from the pool of blood she lay in. Whatever they were going through was nothing compared to her suffering, her death.

Stevens set the empty beer bottle down. He got up and went to the little wooden bar where they kept other kinds of booze for when company came over. He took out a bottle of scotch.

His alcoholic mom’s drink of choice. Maybe it held some secret cure he’d missed. He splashed four fingers into one of the glasses and downed it in two searing gulps.

Lei returned, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She watched him as he refilled the glass. “
I’m sorry.” Her voice was low, trembling. “I didn’t mean it. It’s not the baby’s fault. You’re his father. He needs a home, and he should come to us.”

Stevens turned toward her. The alcohol had lit a fire in his belly, steadying the tremble of his hands. “
I was hoping you felt that way, because I went shopping.”

“
What?”

“
Yeah. Bought a few things. We can put it all in the spare room.” He tossed back the second drink, and when he turned and headed for the door, he was a little unsteady—but the flashback was gone. He knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

“
Oh my God,” Lei whispered as he popped the back of the truck to reveal boxes and bags up to the ceiling.

“
Yeah. Apparently, babies need a lot of shit.” He handed her bags until she turned to walk back to the house, and then he filled his own arms.

It took four trips to empty t
he truck. Lei was silent, the tight silence that didn’t bode well, but by the last trip he was feeling the booze buzz and ready to take her on.

“
Say what you’ve got to say,” he said, standing beside her in the spare bedroom doorway as they looked at the mountain of baby items.

“
This was supposed to be our baby!” she cried. “Ours! Not hers!” She burst into tears. He didn’t try to stop her when she ran into their bedroom and slammed the door. In a few minutes he heard the murmur of her voice between sobs—probably calling her friend Marcella. He went back to the living room, fetched a spare blanket, and lay on the couch with Keiki and the scotch bottle, the TV on mute keeping the terrible images away from his eyes.

Lei woke up to the sound of screaming. Deep, guttural, the sounds of a man in mortal pain.

She grabbed her weapon out of the holster hanging from the headboard and ran to the door, stumbling in the dark as she
got it open and then flicking on the living room light to see the threat.

Stevens was sitting straight up on the couch, screaming, his eyes wide open but seeing something else.

Keiki, agitated, pawed his leg and licked his face. Lei, still scanning for threats, saw Stevens wake as he hunched over abruptly and embraced the dog.

“
Oh, God. Help me,” she heard him say. And he wept into the dog’s coat, his arms around the sturdy Rottweiler.

Lei set the weapon on the coffee table, unsure how he
’d respond to her. “Can I do anything?”

The harsh overhead light cast dark shadows under his eyes, beneath his cheekbones as he sat up. She saw the shape of his skull for the first time, as clearly as if the skin were peeled back.

“No. I just need to get through this. Something to drink would be great, though.” His voice was a harsh rasp.

Lei went into the kitchen and poured a large glass of milk. Her own throat felt rough from all the crying last night, but she felt better. Lighter. Determined. She
’d had her say, had her cry. Told everything to her friend Marcella, who understood her conflicted feelings. Now she’d set her course. She’d do her best to be a mom to this baby. Whether she chose him or not, he was coming to them.

She poured herself a glass too, and brought one to Stevens, along with a sleeping pill from her stash. “
Drink this whole thing and come back to bed. I’m done being mad.”

He took the glass, drank the milk, swallowed the pill. That was as alarming as the scr
eams—he hated pills of any kind. He followed her into the bedroom and lay down. Keiki, keeping watch, hopped up and nestled at Stevens’s feet on her ratty old quilt.

Lei left them there and went back into the living room. She looked up a number in her phon
e, dialed it. “Dr. Wilson? I’m so sorry. I know it’s early. But this is an emergency. Can you come to Maui?”

Stevens woke up slowly. The sun was in his eyes. He expected the cottony pain of a hangover, but the milk and sleeping pill must have worked, because there was nothing but a slight ache behind his eyeballs, and he hadn’t dreamed again.

Keiki licked his hand, trotting back and forth in front of the bedroom door, clearly needing to be let out. There was no sign of Lei.

He got up and walked through the sunlit, empty house. Unlocked Keiki’s dog door in back and let her out. Lei had started coffee, and its aroma teased his nose with the memory of something he used to enjoy.

It didn
’t feel like he could enjoy anything ever again, with Anchara dead on a slab in the morgue, gutted like a fish to get the baby out. He shuddered at the horrible thought.

So much blood. So wrong. So unfair.

He poured the coffee, then went to the front and retrieved the
Maui News
. He took it to the back porch, bracing himself. Sure enough:
High-ranking Maui officer a person of interest in gruesome slaying of pregnant woman
screamed the headline.

At least they hadn
’t named him.

Yet.

He scanned the article and stuffed it in the nearby trash bin. Threw the ball for Keiki.

He was sc
rewing together the wheeled legs of the crib the saleslady had encouraged him to buy when he heard the rumble of Lei’s truck pulling up, the sound of voices.

He
’d never combed his hair or put on a shirt, and he didn’t care. Whoever had the nerve to arrive at their house unannounced had to take him as he was. That irritated thought was put to the test when he stood up, screwdriver in hand, to greet Dr. Caprice Wilson.

The petite blond psychologist had done something different with her hair, and she was wear
ing a pretty wrap dress. He’d heard she’d been through a hard time on Haleakala, but if anything, she looked better for it.

“
Dr. Wilson. Welcome to our home. I assume you’re here to psych me out after last night’s screaming episode.” He knew his voice wasn’t welcoming.

Dr. Wilson kept her bright blue eyes on his, but he could tell it took an effort. “
Michael, I hear you’ve been through a trauma. Would you mind putting on a shirt and putting down the screwdriver? You’re giving me a bit of a hot flash.”

Lei
had gone into the kitchen, and he heard her snort of laughter, which echoed his own.

“
Happy to get a break from ‘some assembly required.’” Stevens gestured to the lineup of tiny parts and detailed instructions surrounding the crib. “I’ll be right back.”

He went into the bedroom, pulled on a shirt, changed into boxers and jeans. Hot flash, right. He snorted again. He hadn
’t spent a lot of time with Dr. Wilson, but he’d seen how effective she’d been in working with Lei over the years, and he’d always liked her quick wit and down-to-earth manner.

He came out of the bedroom, combing his hair with his fingers. Dr. Wilson sat on the couch. Lei was gone already.

“She had to go in to work,” the psychologist said. “She just went to the airport to pick me up and bring me back here.”

“
Oh.” Stevens went back into the kitchen, poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, and joined her on the couch. “Better?” He gestured to his clothes.

She winked. “
Much. I’m old, but I’m not dead. I can see why Lei had to marry you—to keep you away from other women.”

He shook his head ruefully. “
Too late, because Anchara happened.” He took too big a gulp of hot coffee and burned his tongue.

“
Anchara swooped in and snagged you when you were vulnerable. That’s how I see it.”

Stevens frowned. “
Not how it was.”

“
How was it?”

“
She was being deported. She had nothing, no one. I felt responsible, like I had to do something—and Lei, she’d just left for the FBI. Chose that job over us. I was trying to move on.”

“
We all know how well that worked out.” Dr. Wilson took another sip of her coffee. “I see you’re making the transition to dad without a hitch.”

He tightened his belly, then set down the coffee mug hard. “
I’ve heard about your techniques, Dr. Wilson. Provoking. Well, I don’t appreciate it.”

“
Angry, are you?” Dr. Wilson’s blue eyes were guileless over her mug.

“
Hell, yes, I’m angry. This!” He stood to his full height, lifted open arms in an encompassing gesture. He could feel heat in his face. “I didn’t ask for this! This massive disruption in my life, becoming a murder suspect and a dad in one day! And as soon as I realize I’m angry about it, I remember Anchara and all she lost—her life. Everything taken from her. Horrific.” He shut his eyes, pushed his fingers into them. He swayed on his feet.

“
Why don’t you sit down?” Dr. Wilson patted the couch.

“
No. I’d rather do something useful.” He went back to the crib, knelt on the floor. “A goes into B. B connects to C. I wish this situation were like that. And just when Lei and I were finally settling into life.”

“
How’s she dealing with this?”

“
I’m sure she told you on the way here.”

“
I want to hear what you think. You know her better than anyone.”

He slanted a glance at her, screwing the wheel socket into the crib
’s leg. “I’d say
you
do.”