Hostile Desires Page 2

  “Great. I was pretty sure it was a junkie. Did you have anything else for me?”

  She shook her head. “Charity has orders to ping us both when she has any results.”

  “Thanks. Thought I would stop by to see Del on my way out.”

  She chuckled. “Have fun with that. Avoid his bride-to-be. Emma is a little...overwhelmed at the moment.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Elle.”

  “Just get the bastard. I really liked Joe. He always had a smile for anyone who stopped by, and he contributed a lot to that neighborhood. He is definitely going to be missed.”

  “Will do.”

  “Give my best to your wife and that pretty little girl of yours.”

  He waved as he walked out the door. She looked down at her clothes and realized she needed to change out of her scrubs. Since the early call had ruined her chances at a shower, she felt grimy. Threading her fingers through her hair, she decided that she would grab a fast shower. It was the first time that morning she wasn’t busy doing something. Her stomach growled, and she made a face. She hadn’t brought her lunch because of the call this morning, which meant she had to go somewhere to pick something up. But she didn’t want to go far. There could be another call, so the coffee stand out front would work.

  * * *

  Graeme McGregor was parking his truck when he saw Elle Middleton sitting on a bench out in front of the TFH headquarters. He turned off his vehicle and watched her for a moment. The woman should have looked out of place, the English rose sitting amongst the tropical flowers. But somehow, she fit.

  If anything, she added to the surroundings. Her pristine appearance enhanced the wild fauna that surrounded her. Of course, lately, she had started to take on a certain look. More local than haole. She’d let her short hair grow out just a little, and the humidity had added some curl to her flaxen hair. More and more she had been wearing colorful tropical shirts like the one she had on today. The deep coral color brought out a glow to her skin.

  He wanted to avoid her. They didn’t get along at all, but while he told himself to walk on, he found himself wandering over to her.

  “Out early this morning.”

  She blinked, then her eyes seemed to focus. “Oh, McGregor. Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Sort of zoned out there for a bit.”

  He nodded as he studied her. She held a cup of coffee in her hands, and an unwrapped sandwich sat on her lap. She definitely looked like she had been staying up late. In fact, she looked bloody awful. The dark bruising beneath her eyes was getting to be a regular sight on her. It had been that way since they’d found Jin months earlier.

  “Did we catch a call?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m helping fill in with HPD. Flu is wiping out their folks, and then Dennis’s wife went into labor yesterday.”

  He nodded and, before he could tell himself not do it, he sat next to her. She didn’t physically move away, but he felt her pull away just the same. She had been like that since the first time they’d met, and he didn’t know why. He had thought with him being from Scotland, and she being a UK transplant, they would have had a lot in common. Apparently, the doctor thought otherwise.

  “Was it a tough one?”

  “Yes. You know the Wiki Market there right off of Schofield Barracks?”

  He nodded.

  “Joe Alana was shot in the chest, bled out at the scene.”

  “Well, damn. Joe was a bloody good guy.”

  She glanced at him, as she sipped at her coffee. “You knew him?”

  “Yeah. I live up near the North Shore.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t know that. I live in Haleiwa.”

  He knew where she lived. Not exactly, but the area. He wasn’t a stalker. But he knew they lived closer to each other than any of the other people on the team.

  “I live in Laie.”

  She nodded and looked out over the lawn. “It was completely senseless. If you know Joe, you know they have the video of the kid.”

  He opened his mouth, but her phone rang with a “Georgia on My Mind” ringtone. He smiled.

  “I am assuming that’s Charity?”

  She nodded and turned on her mobile. “Been waiting on the ballistics. Hey, Charity, what do you have for me?”

  He watched her expressive face. Graeme had an idea that Elle thought she was cool as an English cucumber, but he knew better. When things really got to her, it was easy to see how it affected her by her facial expressions. He watched as whatever Charity was saying hit home for Elle.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  More silence.

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I don’t believe in your abilities.”

  More silence.

  “Bloody hell, I promise never to ask again. I’ll be right in. I was just grabbing a bite to eat outside.”

  Graeme noticed that Elle hadn’t eaten the sandwich, but he knew better than to say anything about it.

  She clicked off her mobile.

  “Got a lead on the bullet?” he asked.

  Elle nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Damn, she was beautiful when she smiled—something he shouldn’t be thinking about. He forced himself not to be drawn in by the twinkle in those green eyes, or the way her dimples showed when she smiled.

  “Of course she got a hit, and it is linked to a crime from almost thirty years ago.”

  Chapter Two

  Sam Katsu swallowed the bile in his throat as he watched the news. A shiver of need rushed through his body, chilling his blood and making him sweat. He needed a hit. Another one. A big one. But they had him dead to rights, and had been showing the fucking video over and over. He couldn’t leave his house. He couldn’t call his supplier.

  It had been nonstop coverage since they’d found the old man. What was he going to do? It wasn’t like he could hop in his car and go anywhere. Fuck. He didn’t even have a car. He’d sold it several weeks earlier. He’d needed the cash for another hit.

  He paced the small living room area, as the reporter droned on.

  “People have been arriving at the small Wiki Mart since early this morning, leaving flowers by the police tape. Joe Alana was not only a member of this community, he was the heart of it.”

  Sam shoved his hands through his hair, as sweat gathered at the base of his neck. He looked at his hands and saw the blood. He still had the old man’s blood on his hands, beneath his fingernails. He shivered as a bead of sweat slid down his spine. Chills raced over his flesh. His stomach roiled, and his throat filled with acid. Running to the bathroom, he collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet. He had nothing to throw up, nothing in his stomach at all, so all he did was heave a few times, then fall down onto the stained, cracked linoleum.

  He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. It wavered, and he realized he was crying. It had all started with the fucking gun. That was why he was where he was. If he had never found it, he would have never ended up where he was.

  What the fuck was he going to do?

  * * *

  Elle was out of sorts by the time they made it back into the TFH conference room. Part of it was her lack of sleep. She’d been fighting insomnia for months now, but that wasn’t particularly new. She usually handled it better, but with Graeme McGregor by her side, she couldn’t seem to settle her nerves.

  He walked beside her; his big hulking frame both irritated and calmed her at the same time. She didn’t know what it was, but for some reason, she’d had this reaction from the moment she met him. She knew why he agitated her, but why she seemed to want to see him from time to time was just insane.

  At first, she had blamed it on his long golden hair, which had earned him the name of Goldilocks. But he had cut it off a couple of months ago and grown a goatee. She had never been a woman for facial hair, but damned if it didn’t make him even more attractive to her. It suited his face and his character. More than once she had wondered what it would feel like against her skin. />
  There were more things that intrigued her about him, but mostly she wanted to see the tattoo that everyone had talked about. It covered his back, or so they said. She pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on what was going on in the room beyond the glass doors. Charity was standing next to the conference table talking to Del. She smiled when she saw Charity’s hands flapping around and her mouth moving. She was definitely enthusiastic about her find.

  “Lass seems to know something exciting,” Graeme said with a chuckle.

  His rich brogue danced over her nerve endings. He had one of those deep baritone voices that only Highlanders seemed to possess. But not in real life. They lived in fantasies, in movies, and books. They definitely should not be spending time striding around Hawaii like a displaced Laird searching for his clan.

  Bloody hell, she needed some sleep. After she was done today, she would take one of those little sleeping pills her doctor had prescribed. They had been sitting untouched for a month, but when she started having romantic thoughts about McGregor, it was time for drastic measures.

  He reached for the door at the same time as Elle did, and their hands brushed against each other. She sucked in a breath and dropped her arm to let him open the door. When she looked at him, she found him looking at her as if he had been struck. His clear gray eyes narrowed as he studied her. He hesitated as if he had felt it too, then he pulled the door open.

  She stepped over the threshold and into the whirlwind of excitement that always seemed to surround Charity Edwards.

  “What are the chances? I mean, I am not that good at math, but maybe you can ask Emma. I bet she would know about the odds of this happening.”

  When Del spotted them, relief was easy to hear in his voice when he spoke. “Great, you’re here.”

  Del’s gaze landed on Graeme, and his eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing. Of course, the entire office knew they didn’t like each other. Seeing them walk in together was enough to raise a few eyebrows. Still, Elle wasn’t thrilled with his reaction. It was moments like this that lead to silly wagers.

  “Charity said the bullet is linked to a case from 1986?”

  Charity twirled around. She had her lab coat on, but now Elle got a look at Charity’s outfit. A bright yellow shirt tucked into black Capri pants. And, as usual, she was prancing around on heels. How the woman did that all day was beyond Elle.

  Her eyes sparkled as she nodded. “Yes, unsolved and never used again.”

  She handed Elle a piece of paper. She looked over the information, then glanced up. “A first generation Glock? I don’t know many people who use those anymore.”

  “A good gun is a good gun,” Charity said. “When I saw it, I recognized it. You can take the girl out of Georgia...”

  “That sounds like an odd choice of weapon for our young perpetrator,” Graeme remarked.

  She was nodding when Del stepped in. “I don’t think so. Remember, the first description is a young man. Now the video confirms it. If he was in there to do a smash and grab, there is a good chance he just grabbed the gun from somewhere. Desperate for cash, if he was an ICE head.”

  McGregor nodded. “That is a good point. But how did he get hold of a gun that was in another case?”

  Charity practically bounced, as she exploded with the information. “It’s from a cold case. And, Oh! My! Gawd! It was huge news here in Honolulu.”

  “Not big enough to solve it,” Del remarked.

  “Either way, it made the news,” Charity said, her tone dismissive.

  “All murders make news here—especially if it is someone local. They didn’t solve it?” Graeme asked.

  “No. Lots of leads, nothing came of it,” Charity said, handing her another page. There was a picture of a young girl.

  “A girl?”

  Before she could ask for more details, Cat and Adam came walking into the room.

  “Is this about the Wiki Mart shooting?” Adam asked.

  She nodded and handed him the paper. Adam Lee was second in command and had worked for the HPD for a few years before moving over to TFH. Local and Hawaiian, he was big, strong, and happily bald. He always had a ready smile and something nice to say about everyone.

  “Oh, the Jenny Kalani killing. I vaguely remember that. Definitely big news here.”

  Cat nodded. “Happened before my time.”

  Adam shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. Elle had to fight the smile. She and Adam were the oldest of the group, but none of them seemed to mention it. They did like to say it to Adam though.

  “Are you calling me old?”

  Young and small, but one of the strongest women Elle knew, Cat was considered the best shot of the whole group. She beat all the men on the team...and she was the exact opposite of Elle’s lab assistant, Drew, who was infatuated with her.

  “Not calling anyone old, bruddah.”

  Adam shook his head. “I don’t remember it happening, but I remember when I first started thinking about becoming a cop. I read up on that case and the Honolulu Strangler case.”

  “I was just saying that you are of a certain age. But I remember several of my aunties talking about this. It was when the Strangler case was going on.”

  “Yeah, a young girl couldn’t fight the publicity of a serial killer,” Adam said.

  “Especially the first ever recorded serial killer in Honolulu,” Del said.

  “Wait, go back,” Graeme said. “Talk about the serial killer.”

  “Why is that important?” Cat asked.

  “Context. It’s always best to know what was going on at the time.”

  Del nodded. “She definitely didn’t fit the profile. She was young, too young. The other women were older, all of them of legal age. She was out of the parameters. Plus, she was shot, not strangled, and there was no sexual assault. So, the press moved on. The Honolulu Strangler was gaining some national press.”

  “In a place that lives off of tourism, and had fought so hard to clean up Honolulu’s image from the early eighties, he was a worry for state officials,” Adam said.

  “The victims of the Honolulu Strangler were strangled, of course,” Del said. “And they had been raped.”

  “So young,” Elle said. “Only thirteen. Shot up close and personal, from what the report said, and left on the side of the road like rubbish.”

  Charity nodded. “It’s not that easy to do, but the truth is, I’m kind of a cold case nut—especially when forensics is involved. I remembered Jenny’s case because it was a first generation Glock. That stuck with me. So, I went back and found the pictures of the bullet. The striations match.”

  Striations were the markings inside the barrel of the gun. Each manufacturer used them and they were unique to each firearm.

  “Don’t those wear down in time?” Elle asked.

  “Usually, and it makes it hard to ID a bullet from the same gun if a lot of bullets have been fired from it. That tells me there weren’t a lot fired, or any at all. Plus, we have added DNA.”

  “DNA?” McGregor asked.

  “Yes. I have all the bullets from the scene. Some did not even hit the victim. What I think is the first bullet fired had some DNA that did not match either of them. When I put it in the system, it came back to Jenny. Her murder was up close and personal, so that makes sense there would be blood or possibly some skin cells at least on the barrel. I tested a few other bullets that they found at the Wiki Mart. There are two others with DNA, but each one had a little bit less on it.”

  “Meaning?” Cat asked.

  “It means that I can give the detectives an outline on which bullet was shot first,” she said. “I have a feeling this was not premeditated.”

  “What addict premeditates anything but their next hit?” Cat asked. “It’s still murder.”

  “But all these years later, the gun was used in a robbery. No other hit off of it since,” Graeme said.

  She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was already thinking about the
implications.

  “Right.”

  “Wait,” Adam said. “Are you saying that this is connected to the Wiki Mart killing?”

  “Yes,” Charity said. “Tested the bullet myself. First description is a young male, probably in his twenties, so if that holds, this kid has nothing to do with a murder from almost thirty years ago. The grainy video wasn’t that great, but he still looked young.”

  “So, somehow this kid gets hold of that gun and uses it to rob then kill Joe Alana,” Graeme murmured.

  “But if the person who killed Jenny all those years ago decided to hold onto it, or hide it, how did this loser come across it?” Cat asked.

  “Especially if he’s been tweaking out for a few days,” Adam said. “I don’t see a junkie holding onto a weapon and not selling it off for cash.”

  Elle nodded and looked up from the report. There was really only one explanation. Her gaze locked with Graeme’s. Cold seeped into her, as everything seemed to fall into place.

  “So, if he didn’t hold onto it, he found it,” Del said.

  “Or,” McGregor said, his voice filled with grim determination, “our current perp might just know who the killer of Jenny was all those years ago.”

  “And if he does, we need to find this guy…alive,” Del added.

  “We have another issue here,” McGregor said. “We need to keep a lid on the fact that this gun is linked to another murder.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to put it out there? We might be able to stir up some memories, get someone to come forward,” Cat said.”

  “No. If we stir up memories, we might put this bastard’s life in jeopardy. I hate to admit it—other than the bullet that was left in Jenny, he is our only link to the killer,” Del said. “And we need to make sure we get the bastard here, in custody, before the owner of the gun realizes we have a connection to it through our perp.”

  “Because if he is going to kill a little girl years ago, he won’t think twice about killing a tweaked out junkie who killed a beloved store owner,” Elle said. “You’re right. We can’t tell anyone.”