Love or Justice (28 page)

“Oh honey, are you still not feeling well?” Emma clasped her hands together.

“No. Not at all.” She dropped into a seat at the kitchen table.

“How about some juice?” Emma got up. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“I can’t eat anything, but I’ll take the juice.” Laurie rested her head in her hands.

“Laurie, you’ve been like this for a few days now. I think we need to take you to the doctor.” An edge of authority slipped into Gabriella’s voice.

Laurie sighed. She hated doctors, but she was so tired of fighting them on this.

“Okay.” She laid her head down on the table as her stomach turned over again. She might not want to go, but if the doctor could at least tell her what was going on, it would be worth it.

Emma set down some juice and saltines in front of her. Laurie picked up the juice, taking a small sip.

“Well, the nearest doctor’s down in Fremont.” Emma rubbed Laurie’s shoulders.

“Great.” She spared the saltines a heated glare before turning her attention back to her juice.

“I know something that might make you feel better.” Gabriella flicked her eyes up at Emma.

Laurie eyed them suspiciously.

“My lovely son sent us a message.” Emma walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up a piece of paper.

Laurie almost dropped her juice. She tightened her grip on the glass, then she swallowed and looked at Emma.

“What? When? Where?” Laurie leaned forward onto the table.

“He e-mailed me, from a generic account.” Emma handed Laurie a piece of paper.

Laurie read the header, an e-mail from ‘John Smith.’ It was a rambling e-mail about gardening. Her brows knit together as she looked to Emma.

“It’s in code.” Emma nodded to the paper. “I used to play a game with him when he was a child. He would write in code. Take every third letter in each sentence and it makes a different sentence.”

Emma reached over and flipped the piece of paper. On the back, scribbled in Emma’s handwriting, were two simple sentences:

Close to Kaimi. We are fine.

“They’re okay.” Laurie breathed a sigh of relief.

The barest edge of Laurie’s tension slid away from her shoulders. She placed the piece of paper down on the table. Laurie stroked it with her index finger. Dante was okay. They were getting close to Kaimi. She hoped it were true on one hand, wanting to see the man behind bars. On the other, she wished Dante would give up this insane hunt and come back home.

“They’re just fine.” Emma said with a sneer as she walked away from the table.

Emma looked so wound with tension, Laurie thought she might explode. Every movement she made nudged her along the path of a dangerous fuse.

“What’s wrong, Emma? Aren’t you glad they’re okay?” Gabriella quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I’m glad, Gabriella. I’m very glad my retired husband and son are out hunting a killer.” Emma jerked open the pantry door, turning toward them.

“They’re going to be okay. They’re all highly trained—” Gabriella began.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Emma came toward her. “That they all come out of this just fine, and then they’ll come back here full of their own invincibility. Then what happens next time? What happens when my husband goes running off on yet another mission and Bob and Dante aren’t around? He just can’t…he can’t keep doing this forever.”

Emma dissolved into tears, as she sat back down at the table.

Laurie reached over to rub Emma’s shoulder.

Gabriella got up to hug her.

Emma had voiced a secret fear they all had. They hated to admit it, but the men coming home unharmed was the least of their worries.

Laurie loved Dante. Yet, if he succeeded and found Kaimi, she would have to go back to Hawaii. Dante would go back with her to stand in the line of fire, ready to protect her for as long as they let him. There was no guarantee the Marshals Service would let him protect her for long. They would hide her somewhere. Who knows if they would even let her speak to him. God, she might never even see Dante again. The thought made her heart twist in her chest.

However, the Marshals Service didn’t know where she was hiding. If…no, she wouldn’t go there.
When
Dante returned safely, they could stay here for as long as they wanted.

Laurie pushed that thought away as well. Without her testimony, the prosecutor would have little proof that Kaimi killed Katherine and Easton, at least not enough to convict. She was the evidence that tied him to the crime. She couldn’t just let that go.

She would have to make a choice. She honestly didn’t know what she would do when the time came, so she stared at the table in despair.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dante

The rain began to pour down, running into Dante’s open window. In the minute it took to roll up the window in the piece-of-crap rental car he was in, his arm and shoulder were soaked. Annoyed, he brushed the drops from his arm with more force than necessary.

His father sat beside Dante in the passenger’s seat. Albert hadn’t moved at all during the three hours they sat outside of the house they were watching.

Dante jumped when Albert suddenly grabbed his shoulder. Dante’s annoyance grew as he turned to his father.

Albert nodded toward the house.

Dante glanced back at the house. They had been watching it for the past four days. After culling through all of the CIA reports on Kaimi, they had narrowed the pool of potential hideouts to three. This house was at the top of the list. Owned by one of Kaimi’s long-standing rivals in the gun trade, it appeared in report after report after report, going all the way back to Kaimi’s first rise to law-enforcement attention. Though it had never been a reported safe-haven, the shear frequency of its occurrence in the documents outnumbered other locations almost two to one. Kaimi’s men had come here for numerous meetings, Kaimi had come for parties and dinners. There had been an altercation or two between Kaimi’s men and the men in his rival’s staff. It would also make the perfect hideout, since the Feds would discount it because of who owned it. The mansion was on a hill near Kukio Bay in a multimillion-dollar resort, within easy reach of a marina. The dark foliage around the walled mansion also made surveillance almost impossible. Albert had sniffed out the only real vantage point after a day or so of searching. It was the driveway of a deserted home downhill from the mansion.

Even though it was past midnight, three cars were leaving the compound on the hill. There hadn’t been anyone to come in or leave the house since they started their surveillance, except for the cleaning service and the gardeners. Albert and Dante sank down into their seats as three town cars passed by, rolling down the hill toward the marina. After they passed, Dante took out their infrared binoculars. He pointed them toward the house. There were three people around the perimeter, but everyone else was gone.

“There are three security guards left. The rest are gone.” Dante put the glasses down.

“That’s a lot of people to leave all at once.” Albert flicked his eyes at Dante.

“Yes it is,” Dante ran his hands through his hair. “We’ve got to figure out if he’s in there, Dad. The binoculars only tell us so much, and the listening devices we have aren’t working from this distance.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking a lot about that.” Albert tapped the newspaper in his hand against his palm. “I think it’s time for me to go back to work.”

“You are back at work.” Dante slid his eyes over to him.

“No, I think I’m going into the gardening business.” Albert tapped the paper again. “This paper right here says the resort is looking for a gardener, and well, I guess I didn’t save enough for retirement.”

Dante swiped the paper from his hand. He read the small advertisement that his father had circled. Then he threw into the back seat so hard the paper bounced off the seat, hitting his father’s seat before falling to the floor.

“No.” Dante shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ve been doing this for much longer than you’ve been alive. Of course it’s dangerous, but it has to be done.” A note of finality entered Albert’s voice.

“No.” Dante pinned him with a look. “We’ll find another way. Or I’ll do it.”

“There is no other way, and you have Fed written all over you. No one would suspect a lonely old man. I’ve spent so many years on a farm, there isn’t a plant I haven’t met. I can get on that property, and drop off some of our bugs. Then we’ll know if he’s here.”

Dante brooded for a while, thinking over the plan, trying to find any possible holes, any reason to protest. But his father was right. There wasn’t another way to find out unless they got onto the property. There were very few people coming and going. He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“I will let you do this under one condition; you have to wear a hidden mic. If anything goes wrong, anything, I’m coming in.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Albert smiled.

“Did you?”

“Of course.” Albert lifted his eyebrows. “It’s exactly what I would have said.”

Dante smiled and gave a little laugh. He was surprised to find that being compared to his father didn’t quite irk him as much as it did before. He turned the key in the ignition.

“Well, I guess we should go back to the hotel. I’d hate for you to be late for your second career.” Dante pulled out of the driveway.

Dante headed toward the highway that ran to the hotel where they were staying. It was a run-down sort of place, but it was quiet and clean. If someone updated it to the current decade with new paint, carpet and fixtures, it would be a nice hotel near the ocean. For what they needed it to be, it served them just fine.

Dante pulled into the parking space outside their ground floor room. When they opened the door, Bob sat on one of the twin beds, watching TV. Albert and Dante sat down beside him. They explained the new plan of attack. Bob protested, but eventually relented to their logic. Bob and Dante spent the rest of the night helping Albert pull together a false resume.

First thing the next morning, Albert put on a button-down shirt and some loose khaki pants. He pulled a floppy sun hat out of his suitcase, laying it on the bed. Dante watched his father reach into a hidden pocket in his suitcase, extracting a false social security card and license. Albert took out his real license, stored it in his bag, then stuck his new identity into his wallet.

“Ready to go?” Dante gestured to the door.

“Yes.” Albert snapped his wallet closed. “I will only answer to Jesse from now on, understand?”

“I think I’ll just stick with Dad.” Dante, the newly created Jesse, and Bob drove to the resort management office. While the head landscape artist interviewed his father, Dante tested the sound recording equipment, to make sure he would be able to hear his father without any problems.

After a short interview, the manager sounded impressed. He excused himself to go into his office to call Jesse’s references. After a few minutes, Dante got a call on his cell phone. He went into his rehearsed and well thought out opinion of Jesse: his work ethic, knowledge of plant life, strengths and weaknesses. The manager sounded ecstatic as he hung up the phone. Then Bob got a phone call. He went through his own version of the speech.

After his ten-minute conversation with Bob, the manager emerged from his office and offered Jesse the position. The manager asked Jesse when he could start, and Jesse told him he could start anytime, so the manager asked him to come back the next day. He gave Jesse a polo shirt with the resort logo right before he left. Albert emerged from the office victorious. On the way back to the hotel, they stopped at a bookstore so they could pick up a couple of books on native Hawaiian horticulture. ‘Jesse’ spent the rest of the day learning about the exotic plants growing all around the island.

The next morning, Bob and Dante dropped Albert off at work before they drove over to the hiding spot near Kaimi’s suspected hideout. It was a long wait, well into the late afternoon, until they started picking up Albert’s signal. The landscaping van drove past them up the hill to the mansion. Albert wasn’t alone; his new boss was with him.

“Jesse,” they heard through the mic. “This next owner doesn’t like new people, so don’t take it personally. He’s a paranoid guy. There’s always a few security guards around, and when he’s home he’ll watch you while you’re working.”

“Sounds like a pretty private man,” Jesse said. “What’s his name?”

“Yes, private—very private. Kimo Kimura. His wife can also be a bit demanding. Very loud and demanding. She tends to want everything a certain way. If she’s not happy with what you’ve done, she can get pretty mad.”

“Sounds like a fun house, Mike,” Jesse replied.

“Yeah. Of all the owners, these people can be the most stressful to deal with. So if you can handle them, you’ve got it made,” Mike replied.

Dante and Bob heard the car door slam. They heard more muffled sounds as the gardening van door slid open and equipment was retrieved from the truck. Mike greeted the two security guards.

“Who is this?” one of the guards asked.

“New hire, guys. This is Jesse Birch. Jesse this is Mitch and Carl.”

“Boss needs to meet him,” the security guard said without missing a beat.

“Sure!” Mike replied. “Is he in the office?”

Dante smiled over his iced coffee. Mike’s voice had gone up half an octave. His nervousness oozed out from their receiver in the rental car.

“Yeah, and he’s not going to be in the best mood either. Good luck,” said the other guard.

“Thanks for letting us know,” Mike said. There was some rustling and footsteps before Mike continued in a whisper. “Just let me do all the talking. I mean, answer his questions, but just let me handle the rest.”

The sound of footsteps stopped a little while later, and there was a knock. There were some muffled sounds until Jesse said, “Sounds like an argument. Maybe we should just come back?”

Dante smiled while Bob chuckled at Albert’s sly narration. Then they heard a heavy wooden door fly open.

“I told you—” the voice stopped cold and there was an awkward pause.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Kimura. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted to introduce you to our new assistant landscape artist, Jesse,” Mike said.

“A new hire?” asked Mr. Kimura.

Mr. Kimura’s voice was silky, elegant, but sharp. Dante heard the suspicion there too, in the low rumble of his three-word question. Dante gripped his coffee cup tighter. He held his breath as he listened.

“Yes. Jesse’s from outside Honolulu. His son and grandson live here though,” Mike answered.

“Come in,” Mr. Kimura said. The door creaked as it opened. There were some footfalls and muffled noises before Mr. Kimura continued. “So, Mr. Birch, who have you worked for?”

Jesse rattled off the first three positions from his resume. There was a pause.

“You ever worked anywhere else? Done anything besides gardening?” he asked.

“I’ve worked a few other places, but those are the most recent. Wanted to be a landscaper my whole life though. Never did anything else,” Jesse answered.

“You sound like a mainlander,” Mr. Kimura stated. It sounded more like an accusation.

“Yeah, I grew up mainland,” Jesse said. “Back east. But in college, I took a trip out here with a few buddies, met a girl. After college, I married her and moved here.”

There was a thoughtful pause.

“Must be a very pretty woman,” Mr. Kimura said. Jesse chuckled.

“Yes she was,” Jesse replied. “She passed a year or so ago. My son convinced me to move here. He wants to keep an eye on me, I guess.”

Albert’s voice had turned to just the right mixture of sadness, acceptance, and underlying good humor. It made Dante shift in his seat as he put down his coffee.

“I hate that he’s so good at this,” Bob said to Dante.

Dante nodded. He didn’t know whether he should be alarmed or impressed that his father could make up an entire life for himself on the spot.

“Sounds like your son is an honorable man,” Mr. Kimura replied.

“Well, that’s why I let him think he’s taking care of me,” Jesse told him. The men all seemed to chuckle. “But, you know, I hate being cooped up. I need some fresh air and sunshine. I convinced him to let me take on gardening again. Just part-time.”

“Hmmm. Where did you say you lived near Honolulu?” Mr. Kimura asked.

“Manoa,” Jesse answered.

“Ah, there is a great bakery in Manoa—a famous one. What’s it called again?” Mr. Kimura asked.

Dante and Bob tensed. They leaned toward the speakers, as a long paused settled in.

“A bakery?” Jesse asked.

“Yes, yes. Great malasadas. Do you know its name? I can’t think of it just now. A tiny little place, but you must know it, everyone goes there. It’s famous,” Mr. Kimura continued.

Jesse seemed to think for a little while. Dante reached for his gun. If this was going to go wrong, he knew his best chance to save his father was to leave this rust-bucket where it was and scale the wall himself. He placed his hand on the door handle, and Bob echoed his movement.

“Do you mean
Leikela’s
bakery?” Jesse asked.

Confusion darkened Albert’s voice just a shade. Dante’s eyebrows raised in shock. How did his father know about that bakery?

“Yes, exactly,” Mr. Kimura said.

“Oh, well, that’s really Makiki. It’s not Manoa at all,” Jesse replied.

“Ah, you’re right. You’re right. I forgot,” Mr. Kimura responded.

Dante and Bob let out a breath. Dante slumped into his seat. He dragged his hand over his bleary eyes.