Shattered Palms (Lei Crime Series) Page 11

  Lei used her navigation system to find Jacobsen’s house. The young ranger lived in a duplex in a quiet neighborhood in Wailuku Heights. Lei enjoyed the view down into the valley as she drove carefully over the speed tables in the pleasant suburban neighborhood landscaped in palm trees and well-groomed grass.

  Jacobsen’s truck, a black Tacoma, was parked in the driveway of his address. She pulled up behind his vehicle and got out, straightening folds in the creamy silk of the wedding dress draped over the passenger seat.

  Jacobsen had left a single pair of rubber slippers resting on the rubber mat beside the door of the modest apartment. The door’s wood finish was peeling from the sun. Lei knocked.

  Nothing.

  Her phone buzzed with a text. She slid it out of the pocket of her jeans, hoping it was Stevens. It was Marcella.

  So excited for your big day! See you at one p.m.

  Lei wished she felt the same way. Instead her stomach was roiling. It was only eleven thirty; there was still plenty of time until one, when she had to meet everyone at the house to primp for the ceremony. She slid the phone back into her pocket and knocked, louder this time.

  Still nothing.

  His truck was there. Perhaps there was a workshop or something in back, or perhaps he was just sleeping in. It was worth a look.

  She walked around the front of the apartment and through the tidy front yard, bare of any ornamental plantings.

  “Ranger Jacobsen?” she called. “Anybody home?”

  Her phone buzzed again as she approached a wooden gate on the side of the house, and she looked down to pull it out of her pocket again.

  Lei felt a sharp tug on her hair and heard a thunk across the yard; turning, she saw a black arrow quivering in the ornamental palm across the yard.

  Instinct took over and she dove for the ground, face-planting into the cool, damp grass as the next arrow barely missed her, whizzing by in a silent blur of dark motion. The arrow shattered the spine of a palm frond, breaking it with a swish and crack.

  She had to identify herself—maybe the ranger felt threatened, hadn’t recognized her. “Jacobsen!” she yelled. “This is Lieutenant Texeira! Police, stop!”

  In answer, another arrow buried itself in the ground.

  Lei didn’t have body armor on. She didn’t have her weapon; her ID was in the truck. She’d been distracted, gotten sloppy, and dismissed pleasant-faced young Jacobsen as just a helpful ranger. Now she was pinned to the ground in the open, a proverbial sitting duck, with no real idea where he was shooting from.

  Lei tucked her arms tight against her body and rolled as fast as she could across the lawn until she fetched up against the house. Looking back, she saw two arrows quivering in the earth where she’d been.

  She dug her phone out of her pocket and called 911. “Officer needs assistance!” She identified herself and her badge number, flattening herself against the side of the house and slowly sliding to stand upright.

  “Stay where you are, Lieutenant,” the 911 operator said. “Do not try to follow the suspect. Help is on the way.”

  “Roger that,” Lei said, and slid the phone back into her pocket. She was pretty sure that the angle of the house prevented him getting a bead on her, but the thought of one of those hardened-steel, razor-edged arrows burying itself in her body didn’t appeal. She’d seen the damage they could do.

  From where she was, she heard thumps inside the house. He was escaping! She stayed as flat as she could, sidling along the building until she got to the gate. Reaching out a hand, she pressed down on the metal latch. It wouldn’t budge—locked. She turned to look up just above her—a simple slider window was open, and only a screen separated her from access into the house.

  She grabbed the top of the wooden fence, hoisted herself up, and swung a jeans-covered leg up to kick at the screen. It flew inward with a disturbing clatter.

  Her arms were trembling. She didn’t have strength to climb in yet, so she dropped back to the ground—but now she’d alerted Jacobsen to her whereabouts and provided a nice open window for him to shoot her from. How she wished she’d brought her Glock—but she hadn’t planned on the stop going deadly. The smart course was to run back to her truck, get in, and lock the doors—she at least had a can of pepper spray in the glove box.

  She jumped up to grasp the window frame—and heard the front door slam. He was going for his vehicle—but she’d blocked him in. He wouldn’t be able to get away. He’d have to return to the house—unless he left on foot.

  Lei hoisted herself up into the window frame, kicking her legs to propel herself over the ledge and into the room. The metal edge of the frame caught on the button of her jeans, digging into her hips and suddenly reminding her she might not be alone in her body—she might be putting someone else at risk too.

  “Dammit,” she muttered, thinking this kind of activity was another good reason she shouldn’t be a mother. She landed gracelessly on the wood laminate floor of what appeared to be Jacobsen’s bedroom, if the untidy twin bed and piles of clothes on the floor were any indication. She scrambled to her feet, looking for a weapon, anything she could use if Jacobsen came back in—and spotted an aluminum bat propped behind the door.

  Lei grabbed it and hefted it, walking on the balls of her feet to the doorway, peering down the hall.

  She heard the roar of Jacobsen’s truck starting. What was the point of that, when she had him blocked in? Then she heard the rumble of his garage door going up. She trotted through the house to the front door in time to see Jacobsen pull deep into the garage, trying to get enough space to reverse out past her vehicle.

  Armed with just a bat, Lei had no hope of stopping the truck, and she didn’t want to step out of the doorway and expose herself in case he had a weapon. Looking around frantically, she spotted several of the bows she’d been after hanging on a rack on the wall—and beside them, a quiver of arrows. She ran over and grabbed one of the lightweight, bulky contraptions off the wall along with a handful of arrows and dashed back to the door.

  The black Tacoma was already reversing past her truck, and it slammed into the side, tearing off her mirror and scraping down the paint.

  “Shit!” Lei exclaimed as she loaded an arrow into the channel above the grip. She cocked the string back, a surprising effort that, once cocked, was easy to hold. She aligned it with her ear and, sighting down the channel, shot the arrow at the truck’s tire.

  It hit the ground and bounced, spinning. Clearly her archery skills needed work.

  She cocked another arrow as the Tacoma reversed into the road and, burning rubber, roared away. She shot, but the arrow just pinged harmlessly off the back bumper.

  “Gotta work on my aim,” Lei muttered, lowering the bow. She reengaged the 911 operator and described the fleeing truck and its make and model. “Get an APB out on it right away.”

  Next she called Pono. “Got a lot of bows here in Jacobsen’s living room. Happy to report I’m also still alive.”

  “What! What the hell are you up to now?”

  “Need a warrant to search Jacobsen’s house and subpoenas for all his bows and equipment for hunting. He seems to have a lot.” She swiveled, glancing around. “He took several very close shots at me and fled. I think we just had a major break in the case. I’m calling Tiare to put the wedding off.”

  “No way! You have too many people coming, too many people who have spent money to get here for your special day. Listen to your oldest friend—you’re replaceable on the job. Gerry Bunuelos will be filling in for you, and I think now is a great time to break him in.”

  “No.” Lei sucked a breath, blew it out. Squeezed the pendant at her throat so hard it dug painfully into her hand. “I’m the bride. I’m making this call. And I need another twenty-four to forty-eight hours to solve this case.”

  “Are you in the house?”

  “Yes. I had to get out of firing range and try to get him, but he tore up my truck pulling out instead.”

  “I’m
on my way. I’ve got the subpoenas, but anything you find in there without a warrant will be fruit of the poisoned tree, so get out of there now. I’ll talk sense into you when I get there.” Pono hung up just as the wail of sirens announced backup.

  Lei set the bow she’d used down on the top step and sighed. There was no point in rehanging it on the wall; she already had to explain how she was inside and had come to be using it. Explaining the situation and completing all the reports was definitely going to make her late, anyway.

  Lei trotted down the steps to her truck, moaning over the mangled paint job and dangling side mirror. Her door was dented in, but she was able to open it to verify that the dress still draped in lovely splendor over the seat. She sat in the front seat and made several very difficult phone calls, postponing the wedding. Tiare, her aunt and father, and Marcella all started out outraged and ended resigned when she wouldn’t be swayed. When she was done with that and still sweating from the conflict, she called Stevens.

  He still didn’t pick up. “Listen. We’ve had a major break in the case. I am postponing the wedding until tomorrow. It’s a drag, I know, but I can’t leave until we wrap it up further. Hope you understand. This is nothing about you and me. But please call—I need to hear your voice.” She turned the phone off completely and opened the door to go deal with the aftermath.

  Chapter 16

  Pono handed Lei a Styrofoam cup of coffee swimming with little white creamer chunks as they sat in the conference room of Kahului Police Department, waiting for Captain Omura to join them for their case update.

  “I can’t believe you.” Pono narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “You’ve got me in serious trouble at home, Lei. Tiare’s pissed, and when Mama’s not happy, ain’t no one happy.”

  “Can’t be helped,” Lei said, and set her jaw. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Four p.m. She should be walking down an aisle of flowers right about now, but she wasn’t, and that was just the way it was. The job came first. Always would.

  To her credit, Captain Omura, when she joined them, said nothing about the change in wedding plans. Gerry Bunuelos, a short, wiry Filipino, followed her.

  “Gerry’s joining the case. Jacobsen still hasn’t been located, but we had a call from Haleakala Ranch. They found the truck abandoned on ranch land near some bird habitat. Not only that. The ranch employee who found the vehicle reports blood in the back of the truck.”

  “So he was injured while fleeing?” Lei frowned. She hadn’t actually seen the young man shoot at her, but he’d certainly been moving fast—not moving like someone who was injured.

  “Did you see anything in the truck bed when the vehicle was leaving the scene?” Pono asked her.

  “I—dammit. I don’t think so. That’s weird about the blood. Did he nick his hand and smear it on the back or something?”

  “No. The ranch employee reports the amount of blood in the truck bed is significant, more like a puddle. Could be he was injured and went to lie down in the truck bed. We don’t know. Either way, I already called for the K-9 unit to meet you where the truck is so you can track Jacobsen in the forest. ETA is sixty minutes from now.”

  Pono’s thick brows had drawn together as he looked at Lei. “Can you remember anything about the truck, anything in the back?”

  Lei closed her eyes, trying to remember. She’d pulled up behind Jacobsen’s black Tacoma. The garage door had been down. She’d been distracted, fussing with her dress lying on the seat. She tried to remember the back of the truck. “There might have been a tarp or something in the back. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t paying attention. I never should have stopped by.”

  “No argument there,” Omura said, inspecting her manicure. “But since you did, it knocked some interesting things loose. We might as well make the best of it. Gerry, stay here and study the file. I want you to be prepared to take over for Texeira. I’m only allowing her twenty-four more hours before mandatory leave for her wedding.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gerry said, taking the file she pushed over to him. Lei opened her mouth, and Omura narrowed her eyes and leveled a shiny red nail at Lei.

  “Twenty-four hours. Tomorrow at four we are all going to a wedding, and Gerry can carry on your duties. Period.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lei said. No other response was possible. She followed Pono’s stiff back to the weapons locker for Kevlar vests and extra weapons.

  As they got on the road for the Haleakala Ranch entrance outside of Makawao in Pono’s truck, Lei broke the tense silence. “I wonder if Sophie Ang ever tracked down anything on the Internet looking for the birds.”

  “Haven’t heard from her,” Pono said. “You were the one who spent the evening with her last night.”

  “Didn’t come up in conversation. And I don’t want to call her right now.” Lei’s phone was still off in her pocket. For just a little while, she could shut out all the clamoring voices, even those closest to her, and stay focused on the objective. “What’s going on with Kingston? Does anyone know where he’s at?”

  “Deported to Canada. His visa was canceled. Just heard the news on my way over to Jacobsen’s.”

  “You sure he got on the plane?”

  “Heard an officer accompanied him to the airport.”

  “Hmm.” Lei frowned. “Kingston seemed so fanatical. I’m actually having a hard time seeing Jacobsen as someone so bird crazy he’d commit murder, but not Kingston.”

  “We have to follow the evidence, and right now the evidence is pointing to Jacobsen.”

  Lei and Pono bounced along the rutted dirt road, following an employee from Haleakala Ranch, who drove ahead, unlocking the gates for them. The fields were rich and lush, dotted with volcanic rocks and a few clusters of runaway prickly gorse and stands of eucalyptus. The SUV carrying the tracking dog, Blue, his handler, Freddie Lee, and a partner, followed them. Lei’s heart rate was up, excitement to catch Jacobsen finally banishing the angst brought on by postponing her wedding.

  They reached a clearing with a final fence and pulled up beside Jacobsen’s black Tacoma. Wild green forest beyond beckoned Lei as she jumped down from Pono’s truck. She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and looked into the bed of the truck. Sure enough, there was a significant bloodstain pooled in the metal channels.

  “That could be deer or pig blood,” Pono said. “That’s kind of how my truck looks after hunting.”

  “We have to test it.” Lei got out her crime kit and took several swabs. She turned on her high-powered light and shone it over the truck. Smears and blots lit up here and there. “We might have some prints here.”

  Blue barked, a deep, eager sound, as Freddie Lee unloaded him from the SUV they’d pulled up in.

  “We’ll have to come back and work the truck over. Let’s mark it and leave it for later.” She and Pono draped crime scene tape over the black Tacoma, and as she did so, Lei couldn’t help remembering another black Tacoma and the part it had played in her life.

  “This brings up the question—with this restricted access, how would Jacobsen have got through these locked gates?” Lei took her Kevlar vest out from behind her seat and slipped it on over her head.

  “I thought of that. The rangers are issued keys, in case they need to go retrieve something or respond to a park-related emergency on shared land. Jacobsen had apparently checked the keys out two weeks ago, and they hadn’t been returned.”

  Lei bundled her hair into a ponytail and pulled a dark green-billed hat down over her curls.

  “I called and spoke to Takama about Jacobsen,” Pono said. “He was pretty shocked Jacobsen was being looked at as a suspect. Said the guy was hardworking and dedicated, but didn’t show a lot of—what did he call it—‘outside the box thinking.’ He also, according to Takama, was fairly new to Maui and had gained his tracking experience working in other parks.”

  “Hmm,” Lei said, frowning as she checked her Glock, expelling the clip to check it was full, ramming it home inside the cool pebbled grip. She patted the cargo p
ants pockets, checking that she’d brought a spare clip and had packed Taser, pepper spray, and handcuffs. She slung on a light backpack loaded with crime kit and water bottle.

  Lee and his partner, Kahakauwila, also checked their gear. Blue was already questing about on the ground after being given Jacobsen’s hat to sniff. Lei lifted her feet to look at the soles of her shoes for trapped seeds—she didn’t want to bring anything new into the forest.

  Blue flung up his head and gave a single bark, tugging on his leash to go through the gate in front of a trail that led into the forest. “Dog’s ready to work,” Lee said.

  Chapter 17

  They all moved at a fast walk, single file behind the dog. Blue trotted confidently up the path.

  The Haleakala Ranch employee who’d unlocked the gates brought up the rear.

  “Sure seems to know where he’s going,” the young man said. He’d introduced himself as Henry Ferreira, and they’d brought him along to answer any questions about the ranch or flora and fauna they encountered.

  “This dog helped us catch our last perp within an hour,” Pono said. “So tell us more about this forest while we’re going through here. Pretty big path here. Where does it go?”

  “This is a shared sanctuary area called the Maile Trail,” Ferreira said. They’d begun to climb, and the trail had gotten narrower. Blue showed no signs of slowing down. Lei spotted the shiny, dark green leaves of the sacred maile vine twining around the trunks of guava, ohia, and old-growth koa trees, interspersed with thick clumps of kahili ginger, whose stems grew long, glossy sword-shaped leaves forming fernlike patterns. Tall spires of sweet-smelling blossoms thickened the air with scent.