Broken Ferns (Lei Crime ) (18 page)

“I think something’s wrong with her.” Lei’s forehead knit as she spoke into the comm. Consuelo’s eyes fluttered, and she flopped forward, held upright only by the harness.

“She’s probably faking. Don’t let her out of the restraints,” Marcella said. Lei didn’t think the girl could fake the waxy color of her normally olive-brown complexion, but maybe she’d just collapsed from the stress of the chase. They’d given her water, but Lei wondered when she’d last eaten.

Lei palmed one of the thin little wrists. The girl’s pulse was fast and uneven, her eyes closed and face pale. “Do you have any water? I think she’s fainted.”

Rogers, ever prepared, took a metal canteen out of his backpack and handed it to her. Lei tried to push Consuelo’s lolling head upright.

“Wake up, Consuelo. Water.” She tried to pour the water into the girl’s mouth, and it dribbled back out. She looked in alarm at Marcella. “Call ahead. Have Dr. Wilson meet us with an ambulance. Something’s wrong with her.”

“Don’t unstrap her!” Marcella barked, but Lei did anyway, hitting the buckle that autoreleased the four-point harness. Marcella locked the release button on the side door, but she needn’t have bothered.

Consuelo fell out of her seat to fold into the narrow space in front in a fetal position.

Lei pulled the girl’s unresponsive body into her arms and held her as Rogers took out the medical kit and checked her vitals. Marcella worked the phone lining up the emergency medical services.

The flight to Oahu felt endless as Lei held the slight girl in her arms. She found out later it had been only forty minutes. She stroked the dark hair back from Consuelo’s forehead while Angel burrowed into the girl’s side, whimpering.

“She’s unconscious but breathing is good. Blood pressure very low,” Rogers said. “She’s probably just in shock.”

The emergency medical technicians and Dr. Wilson, blond bob dancing in the wind from the rotors, met them at the FBI rooftop helipad. Lei found herself reluctant to let go of Consuelo as the EMTs and Dr. Wilson climbed into the helicopter to take over. Angel began high-pitched, hysterical barking and grabbed on to the navy blue pant leg of one of the EMTs. Lei caught the little dog and climbed out of the helicopter, her eyes on the still figure now wrapped in a blanket with an IV in her hand.

“Lei.” Marcella put a hand on her arm, her warm brown eyes concerned. “She’s getting help. Dr. Wilson will assess her. We’ll make sure she’s cuffed to the hospital bed and not going anywhere.”

Lei held the dog close, watching as they moved Consuelo onto a gurney and covered her with a tucked-in white sheet that made her skin look sallow. The girl was so thin, she barely lifted the sheet. Only her long, shiny black hair, freed from the knot she’d tied it in and fluttering off the edge of the gurney, looked alive.

“She’s dehydrated and in shock,” one of the paramedics said, taking his stethoscope out of his ears. Dr. Wilson’s lips pursed.

“Doesn’t explain why she’s unconscious,” the psychologist said. “I’d better ride along. I’d like to admit her to the adolescent psych unit at Tripler for suicide watch.”

“Thanks, Dr. Wilson.” Lei smiled gratefully at her former therapist. “I’m worried she’s trying to check out on life since the attempt at ‘suicide by cop’ failed. I don’t think she wants to live anymore.”

“Yes. Marcella told me what you were concerned about.” Keen blue eyes that had always been able to see into Lei’s soul swept her with their searchlight. “I think you’d better go get some rest, too, and a little detachment from this case.”

“Okay.” Lei clutched the dog tighter as she turned back to Marcella and Rogers. “What’s the plan?”

“Go home, Lei. Get a hot shower and a change of clothes. We’ll all do the same,” Marcella said. “Consuelo’s secure, but we still need to locate Rezents and Blackman—hopefully this Bandit thing was all her idea and there won’t be any further activity now that she’s in custody, but who knows? Waxman has us briefing at oh-six hundred tomorrow morning.”

“What about the dog?” Lei asked.

“Seems like you’ve got the suspect in custody,” Marcella said, with one of those vibrant dimpled smiles. “Report in tomorrow, and I’ll call you if anything develops.”

Lei gave her friend a brief hug. “Thanks. This one got to me.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to forget the Smiley Bandit anytime soon—this girl got to all of us. You said you were going to tell me something about Stevens?”

“It can wait.” Lei had forgotten all about her encounter with Stevens in the drama of the day. Memory brought familiar pain, but she hoped it was a tiny bit less than this morning.

“Okay. Well, now we just need to round up whoever’s left and figure out what’s been going on. Thank God we brought her in safely—though you about gave me a heart attack jumping out of the helicopter.” Marcella put her hands on her hips. “That was not part of the plan. It was at least fifty feet! You could easily have drowned!”

“She would have, for sure, if I hadn’t jumped.” Lei stroked the domed head of the Chihuahua, who had gone limp with tiredness and attention. “But I bet Waxman won’t like it.”

“He’s not the only one.” Rogers said as he returned. “Get home and get cleaned up and some rest. I’ve no doubt Waxman’s going to take some chunks out of your hide tomorrow morning—you’ll need your game face on.”

“I’m sorry. I had to do what I had to do.” This conversation reminded Lei of a dozen she’d had with Stevens, but this time she felt real regret for the worry she’d caused her friends.

They watched the EMTs pushing Consuelo’s gurney and Dr. Wilson go into the building, heading for the ambulance just as Bennie Fernandez, his cherubic Santa profile all a-jiggle with unaccustomed speed, arrived. Her last glimpse of Consuelo was the black silk of the girl’s hair trailing in the breeze as the group got onto the transport elevator, followed by Fernandez and Marcella, who’d charged onto the elevator at the last minute to intercept Fernandez.

Consuelo would be safe at Tripler, under medical supervision. It was all over but the cleanup—or so Lei hoped.

Chapter 20

Lei made her way to her truck in the lowest level of the parking garage, her shoes squishing and pant legs rubbing, the exhausted little dog asleep in the crook of her arm. The shoes and pants reminded her of another investigation she’d never forget—the drowning of two young girls back in Hilo. The feeling of the wet black silk of Haunani Pohakoa’s hair in her hands as she towed the drowned girl out of the pond where they’d washed up would always haunt her. Haunani was a girl she’d known and felt a connection to—and been too late to help.

She felt that connection even more for brave Consuelo Aguilar. Lei couldn’t explain how she knew what the girl was thinking and feeling—there was just something there, a kinship.

At her building, she stopped to let Angel sniff and piddle in the grass in front of the shower tree. The three flights of stairs had never felt so long, the light dimming as she trudged higher to her floor and unlocked the door.

She set Angel down on the floor to explore her new quarters and went to do her own perimeter check—all windows and doors were secure, and the apartment had a dusty, closed-up smell she hoped would blow out as she opened the sliders.

“Taking a shower, Angel,” she told the little dog. “Let’s go get that salt water off you.”

She washed the little dog, wriggling and snorting, in the bathroom sink. The Chihuahua, so much tinier than Keiki but with the same black and tan points, reminded Lei of her dog. She needed to hurry up and work on finding a new, dog-friendly place where Keiki could be at home. She hopped into the shower, and the hot water caressing her body felt heavenly, cleansing away the sweat and salt of another busy day in the FBI.

Angel was waiting on the bath mat outside the shower, and Lei thought regretfully of how she had to call Max Smiley and return the little dog to him—but after hearing Consuelo’s story, she was even less inclined to hurry.

Lei had never seen the appeal of these kinds of dogs until now, but when she climbed into her inflatable mattress that night with Angel in the crook of her arm, the comfort the little Chihuahua brought was undeniable.

Her mind drifted back over the case, imagining young Consuelo Aguilar, fueled by idealistic rage, flying that ridiculous plane into those ridiculous situations, Angel her only comfort. And a comfort she must have been.

But where were her accomplices? Were they even Rezents and Blackman? It seemed like a good assumption, but Consuelo herself had turned the whole investigation on its ear. And the Kwon murder remained a constant thread of anxiety that ran through the back of her thoughts. Lei was glad she’d made that difficult call to her grandfather earlier, and it seemed there was no way he could have had anything to do with the shooting—her father was way off base there. But at least Lei had made contact, and they’d meet next week at a noodle house. She found herself smiling a little, wrapped around the tiny dog.

Her sleep was dreamless for once.

Early morning turned the Kaneohe air blue gray as Lei pulled up at the barred automatic gate in front of the Smiley estate. She’d decided to run the dog out to the older couple before the morning briefing, rather than leave her in the apartment where the Chihuahua had begun immediate panic-stricken yapping when Lei tried to leave.

Lei pushed the button on the gate alarm several times and finally heard Max Smiley’s gruff voice, rendered tinny by the speaker. “Whaddaya want? Who is this?”

“Special Agent Lei Texeira. Delivery related to your case.”

Typical of Max Smiley’s style, he didn’t respond or thank her, but the black bars motored inward. She drove her Tacoma in and pulled up in front of the entrance, a spread of double doors marked by five-foot bronze Chinese dragon sculptures.

Max opened the door clad in striped terry cloth. His wife, Emmeline, was behind him, and she gave a cry of delight, running forward to snatch Angel out of Lei’s arms. “Oh my God! My sweetheart! Angel!”

The little dog appeared equally delighted, whimpering and wriggling, licking Emmeline.

“Thank you! Thank you!” the older woman cried, throwing a free arm around Lei in a hug.

Max’s face, a-bristle with white whiskers, had split down the middle with a wide grin. “Come in! Have some coffee. Thanks so much for bringing our Angel back!”

“I can only stay a minute,” Lei said. “Got a briefing back in town.” She followed the couple, still emitting cries of delight, into the now-familiar kitchen. Max splashed a cup of coffee into a travel mug emblazoned with Paradise Air. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Cream, please.”

Smiley dosed it liberally with half-and-half. “Keep the mug,” he said, handing it to her. “This must mean you have the Bandit in custody.”

“We do. And I wanted to speak to you about that. Unofficially. Off the record.”

Emmeline drew close to her husband, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He must have been very disturbed to do all he did.”

“Yes. I’m giving you a little heads-up on all that’s coming.” Lei took a breath, knowing what a chance she was taking saying anything at all about the investigation—but she was thinking of all the unhappy employees at Paradise Air. It was a chance worth taking. “The Smiley Bandit is a girl. The sixteen-year-old daughter of one of your oldest employees, who’s deceased now. Constantino Aguilar.”

Lei could see by the blood draining from Max Smiley’s florid face that he knew exactly who Constantino Aguilar was. Emmeline turned to him, the dog clutched her to pin-tucked breast. “Max! What did you do to that poor man! Constantino was a good employee, the best!”

“It’s what your husband didn’t do that led to what Consuelo did,” Lei said. “Constantino was diagnosed with cancer too late for effective treatment. Your husband wouldn’t grant his medical leave and fired him for job abandonment when he became too sick to come to work. He lost his health insurance and his pension. He died at his sister’s house, with Consuelo dropping out of school to nurse him. She’s an orphan and penniless. And currently in the psych ward at Tripler Hospital on suicide watch.”

“Max.” Emmeline moved away from her husband. “I can’t believe this. You aren’t pressing charges on that poor girl.”

“I didn’t think.” Max’s face had gone gray, and Lei was a little alarmed as he folded and sat abruptly in a kitchen chair. “I didn’t think about anything but the bottom line, and Constantino was always nit-picking, trying to spend more in the engine-maintenance department. I didn’t know what was happening to him.” He turned to Lei. “I count on Reynalda Tamayose, my personnel manager, to run day-to-day operations. I knew we let him go, but I didn’t know he was sick.” He shook his head, looked at Emmeline. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m going to make it up to them. Been doing a lot of thinking since the Hummel disappeared.”

“I heard rumors about how you were running the company, but I didn’t want to believe it. Not you, not my Max. That wasn’t how we started the company. We were a family in the early days. I never should have left you alone with it all.” She turned back to Lei, blue eyes showing steely resolve, Angel tucked under her arm. “He’ll make it right for that girl. Full pension benefits for her to inherit, to begin with. And we won’t press charges on the theft.”

“It’s gone way beyond that now.” Lei shook her head. “Consuelo Aguilar is in a world of trouble—but she has a very good lawyer. That reporter Wendy Watanabe started a defense fund for her. The first priority is that she gets some mental health help, which is underway. Anyway, Mr. Smiley, I hope you and your wife will talk things over and consider some policy changes. In our investigation, it became evident your company is more troubled than you know. Much more than it appears on paper.”

“I’m sorry it took this situation to give me a wake-up call. I’ll call a management team meeting right away.”

“And I’ll be there, too,” Emmeline said. “Thanks again for bringing Angel back safely.”

Lei thought of Consuelo tossing away the pistol and diving into the ocean to save the little dog—giving up her chance at death so Angel could live. She vividly remembered the moment she’d caught the little dog underwater and bore her to the surface—and the moment the dog fought her way back to life in Consuelo’s arms.