Dark Mind Page 9

  Although, it didn’t appear that the woman’s female organs were disturbed. The clear substance dried quickly and resembled super glue. He’d have to wait to see what the autopsy report revealed.

  “Get a good enough look?” The cynical tone came from Detective Simpson. His awkward body language emerged as he spoke. “Have you solved it yet?” He laughed moving his arms from crossed to straight down, and then at his sides.

  Standing up, Lani said, “Have they taken photos yet?”

  “Yep. She’s just waiting for her final ride to the slab.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “This is very specific and is connected to the last homicide.”

  “I don’t see anything connecting these two murders. Completely different MO.”

  Lani stared at the detective, but kept his opinion to himself.

  “Oh, Sergeant Candena welcome to my world. They’ve decided to give you this case because we’re too busy with the other one, but if you get any leads you turn it over to us.” He watched the deadpan reaction from the sergeant. “Deal?” He laughed again, this time Simpson stood still.

  “My case?”

  “Knock yourself out, leave your reports on my desk and the chiefs each day. Don’t screw this up and don’t talk to the press. Leave that to me.” The detective walked away leaving the sergeant behind with the body.

  Lani let the reality sink in as he stared at the poor woman and tried to assess what her last moments were like.

  A patrol officer walked by and Lani quickly instructed him, “Get me more photographs of this scene and all surrounding areas that lead up to this before the rains start again. I want a list of all the physical evidence found and documented, even if it’s contaminated. Everything. Got it?”

  The officer hesitated. “Sure sergeant.” He walked away and appeared to be annoyed that he had more work to do.

  Lani took out his cell phone and snapped a few preliminary photos to document what he reconstructed in his mind. He quickly jotted down notes of the body, type of terrain, the position of the organs, and sketched the overall crime scene area.

  He would have the uniformed officers knock on doors in the nearby neighborhoods to see if he could catch a break on the woman’s identity. Lani put his academic knowledge to work in a hardcore, practical manner, running victim and perpetrator scenarios, and possible situations to see where it took him.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  Saturday 1655 Hours

  The fear washed over Emily like a movie scene on fast forward that included the muddy water slamming into her face and body. She tried one last effort to get a better grip, but it was unrelenting and brutal. Holding her breath in between waves of dirty rain, she took a deep inhale and felt a pressure on her right wrist, strong and steady.

  “Hang on!” The voice behind the waterfall shouted. It sounded far away and strained.

  Several hands brushed past her eagerly searching for something to hold onto, finally they grasped her backpack and arms, and lifted her to safety. The shocked faces of Rick and Jordan mirrored what Emily felt. Matt had taken the lead and was able to catch Emily first before she perished over the side of the cliff. He saved her life.

  Emily lay on her side, breathing hard, soaked, and turned her face away from the flowing water. The oncoming tide of rain seemed to decrease, and stopped as quickly as it had started.

  Rick knelt at her side, “Em, you okay?”

  Emily nodded holding back the tears. She eyed the plunge from her vantage point.

  “Are you sure you’re not injured?” Matt asked.

  She nodded her head, unable to form cohesive words.

  Rick hugged her close, tighter than normal. The tense moments were over.

  “Let’s get back down to the beach on more stable ground. The storm seems to have subsided. It’s the worst I’ve seen in a long time, but the good news is that it’s over.” Matt instructed as he patiently steered the group back down the rocky path.

  Emily remained quiet, lost in her thoughts. The island proved to be its own predator that she needed to reexamine tactics and strategies, if she was going to find the killer and survive the landscape in the process.

  Would she be able to confront the serial killer if it came down to it?

  The walking path, now barely wet and muddy by the time the group reached the beach, seemed to be safe and inviting. The sun shone, cascading reflective light from the surf. It was calm and clear.

  By the time they boarded the boat, the weather was mild and inviting.

  “I feel like I’m in one of those disaster movies, calm seas one moment and then a level 5 hurricane the next.” Jordan joked.

  “If you guys are up for it, I’d like to take you to another beach with a mild walking trail before sunset. It’s gorgeous and well worth the effort. I’d hate to see you miss it.”

  Rick looked at Emily. “What do you think?”

  “Sure, otherwise I’m not going to be able to get that other image out of my mind.”

  “Cool.” Matt steered the motorized catamaran back in the direction where they originally came from and skillfully maneuvered through the waves. “If you’re hungry, there’s packed lunches with meat, salads, and some awesome baked chocolate chip cookies.”

  “I’m in.” Jordan jogged down below to search for goodies.

  * * * * *

  Matt happily led the group hoisting a heavy backpack filled with thermoses of Mai tais to toast the end of their journey and enjoy the sunset. He was indeed correct with his description and enthusiasm of the picturesque location.

  The trail from Hanakapi’ai beach gleamed with white sands and gentle lapping waves, which led to a well-traveled trail in between the thick growth of the island. Due to the frequency of the rain, the earth, flowers, low growing shrubs, and trees saturated the senses, mind, and soul in the true wonder of the garden island.

  Emily’s nerves had lowered to a more acceptable level without a shortness of breath and a pounding pulse, she was able to enjoy the setting, snapped a few photographs, chatted, and poked fun at Jordan for complaining over the smallest of things, especially the mosquitoes and biting ants.

  She actually hadn’t thought about the killer stalking the local community until they hiked about a mile on a trail from the beach. Emily’s mind forwarded information like a steel trap or a heavy-duty bank vault. The events of the crime scene played backwards and forwards in her mind.

  As she continued to walk up the trail with her friends, she was reminded at the challenges posed on the island. Heavy rains, remote areas, dense jungle surroundings and high tides created many potential threats and obstacles.

  The more Emily thought about the killer, the more she knew in her gut it was a local person who felt comfortable on the island. Statistically theorizing from a profiler’s point of view, but due to the island, it would be a Hawaiian local.

  “Earth to Emily.”

  Emily focused on Jordan’s eager face as he fell into step with her. “What?” She said.

  “I asked you how you’re doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “Doesn’t this island make you feel alive?”

  “It is beautiful.”

  Jordan leaned into Emily and said, “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. It’s just started. You might wish you caught the first plane out of here yesterday.

  Jordan bellowed an annoying laugh that showed his overly white teeth. “Never.”

  “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself Jordan.” Rick rolled his eyes and kept moving forward.

  “Hey, I always enjoy myself as long as I have a great locale and good friends to hang with.” Jordan slowed his pace and filed in behind Emily, taking up the last position.

  Emily’s smile faded. She noticed that the trail narrowed, but still easy to walk, and the wild overgrown areas around them became denser.

  Birds chirped and flew into the
deep areas of trees. The greenery closed in around them and it became quiet.

  Rick abruptly stopped in front of Emily.

  Matt trotted down to the group. “We’re almost to the lookout point. Keep going up the trail.” He dropped the backpack on the ground. “I think we’ve got a leak.” He showed them a saturated, wet area and the distinct smell of alcohol on the pocket of the backpack.

  “Wow, that better not be all of the alcohol,” commented Jordan.

  “No, I’ve caught the leak just in time. And, I’ve got backup containers.” He smiled.

  Emily said, “We’ll wait for you.”

  “I’ll catch up with you. There’s a nice place to sit and chill just a little ways up.”

  “C’mon.” Rick looked to Emily and Jordan.

  “Don’t worry, I got this and I’m right behind you.” Matt took out one of the containers and inspected it. He kept the glasses dry and put aside.

  “Okay.” She replied.

  Emily followed Rick as they hiked up the last steep hill of their journey. The path went both to the left and right. The group veered off the path to the right and kept walking.

  The trees closed in around them. Darkness loomed even though the sun was still bright. The air was stagnant and didn’t circulate like the great outdoors.

  “Damn, it’s getting dark around here like we’re heading to the evil witches house.” Jordan dramatically prattled and then his voiced trailed off.

  Emily trudged on behind Rick, but the atmosphere had changed. The inviting island’s aroma of sea and sand disappeared. The vines and oversized leaves closed in the walking trail leaving a claustrophobic feeling of doom.

  A constant sound of water echoed through the trees and at times it disappeared altogether, but it seemed to be faint and distant.

  “We must be on the wrong path.” Rick stopped.

  Jordan stopped walking and cocked his head. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what? Asked Emily.

  “Shhhh… listen.” Jordan ordered.

  A distinct rustling filtered from the dense foliage. Voices followed by the whine of dogs approached.

  Listening intently, the group hesitated, unsure of what to do next. A flash burst through the trees at the front of the trail caught their peripheral vision. Through the instant chaos and immediate feeling of danger, Rick high tailed it to the left and Emily followed closely by Jordan hid to the right.

  The breeze picked up in the opposite direction as an offshore wind blew through the trees and helped to cover the noisy retreat, and throw off the scent of the dogs.

  Emily looked to Jordan, his eyes wide and he was about to say something, she clamped her hand over his mouth and shook her head. They remained hidden in a crouching position peering through the dense tropical garden.

  Four grizzly men with well-worn clothes, barefoot, appeared on the trail with two mongrel mutts that were a cross between a hunting and herding dog. Each man held a shotgun and had a nasty looking hunting knife affixed to his belt.

  Upon closer inspection, the knives looked well used, crudely carved bone handles and a dark substance speckled on the blade. The men looked like middle-aged Hawaiian locals, but obviously lived in the more remote areas of the island and most likely survived off the land and off the grid. Their language crossed between English and what sounded like Hawaiian in quick scattered bursts of sentences.

  The tallest and oldest man of the group said, “The dogs caught wind of somethin’ or someone.”

  “There’s nuthin’ here.”

  “Search the area. Otherwise, we take a chance that someone will stumble across our harvest.”

  The men split up in two groups, each with a dog leading the way.

  Jordan looked at Emily and he emulated what she thought. They had to get out of there or they would end up dead and thrown down a lava tube, or tossed off the cliff into the deep waters.

  Emily inched her way further into the thicket to try and find another way out away from the hunters. Her back seized up with pain telescoping deep into her shoulder blades and her left ankle throbbed. Pushing her pain aside, she worried about Rick, but knew that he was capable of making his way down to the beach on his own.

  Branches, grasses and plants poked and prodded at her body, she crawled on her hands and knees leading the way in front of Jordan. The ground was wet and muddy from the frequent rains, and shaded from any direct sun. It felt cold on her knees and the chill seeped into her joints.

  Emily forged ahead, crabbing at times in order to squeeze through tight spaces.

  Voices and loud orders cut through the quiet of the jungle. The hunters approached to their hiding place. Emily’s breath caught short and ragged as she hurried to a brighter area. In her brief panic, she made more noise alerting the posse.

  Dogs barked.

  Hunters advanced quickly.

  “Shit.” Exclaimed Jordan, fear in his voice. He practically passed Emily in the tight space.

  Crash.

  Hurried footsteps.

  An opening presented itself, Emily pushed her body through a jungle hole and she landed in a large mud puddle. Jordan squeezed through the muck, now his white shirt splashed with large stains of mud and miscellaneous pieces from the rain forest.

  Emily pulled Jordan to his feet and they ran. They could hear the distinct sound of flowing water. Without any other choice, they headed in that direction.

  Slapping large branches and pushing through an overgrown garden, Emily pounded the makeshift trail with all of her energy.

  “Gee, this is fun.” Jordan spat out.

  “Any bright ideas?” She asked, winded.

  A gunshot rang out and whizzed through the jungle on their left.

  “Shit!” Emily’s breathless voice seethed.

  “The natives are coming!”

  Two more gunshots peppered a nearby tree, too close for comfort.

  The high-pitched bark of one of the dogs drew near.

  Another gunshot clipped a branch next to Jordan. “I don’t want to die like this, no one will know what ever happened to me.”

  Emily reached the end of the cut through, barely stopping in time at the top of a seventy-foot waterfall. The rocky terrain revealed an ominous and uninviting landscape.

  “Which way?” Jordan asked. “Maybe we can reason with these guys or give them money?”

  Emily turned to Jordan with a loss for words. She searched around for something that would help them escape or find a place to hide.

  Nothing.

  The hunters closed the gap with rehearsed efficiency.

  Several more gunshots pumped through the dense jungle, pinged and zinged all around them, cutting through limbs and plants.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  Saturday 1855 Hours

  Lani relieved the two uniformed police officers at the residence of Amanda Zeller after he had changed into street clothes. The police had received information from the Plantation Resort that Amanda hadn’t reported for work, but the police waited for an official identification from her sister. She was flying to Kauai from Seattle and would arrive on the island in the morning.

  Lani found out that Amanda was an exceptional employee, reliable, trustworthy, lived alone, and only had a few friends and acquaintances. In fact, she was ordinary. She had been living on the island for the past two years and seemed to keep to herself.

  Lani inserted the key into the lock of the small bungalow apartment and opened the door. The landlord was kind enough to give him a key; the crime scene technician would be taking care of the details of documenting the home and dusting for prints in the morning.

  Quietly he shut the door and flipped on the main light, Lani stood a moment on the threshold and examined the room from left to right and slowly back again. He clicked overall photographs with his cell phone and slipped it back into his loose pant pocket. He felt a twinge of camaraderie with this woman, single, alone, leading a simple life that not many noticed
. Now she was gone.

  Would many notice or care?

  Tidy and conservative, the living room subtly revealed her personality. Lani noticed quite a bit about her from the residence – frugal, warm, and pleasant. The furniture, a small mismatched sectional, neatly placed in the middle of the room gave a cheery, cozy feeling. Her books, mostly mystery and thriller paperbacks, tucked in various low bookshelves in alphabetical order showed her interest in crime and serial killers.

  Lani first walked through the house surveying the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, but nothing appeared to be out of place or stopped him abruptly. There were no signs of a struggle or even that a male companion visited recently. Coffee cups, plates, and silverware for service of one dried in the bamboo dish rack.

  He slipped on his plastic gloves and looked a little more closely at various items, carefully moving belongings and opening drawers. A small stack of textbooks sat on her desk in the corner of the living room. He recognized them immediately about crime scene investigations, forensics, and correctional facilities. All books had yellow and blue sticky notes protruding from the bindings to mark pages of interest.

  On the corner of a small glass coffee table a closed laptop rested inconspicuously. He sat down on the couch and flipped the top up, pressed the “on” button – a friendly chime greet him. Her desktop icons didn’t reveal anything unusual or sinister, just the usual files for a word processor program, social networks, and the Internet buttons.

  One file folder piqued his interest: RESEARCH

  Lani doubled clicked on the file. It revealed a list of courses she had taken on the Internet to obtain a forensic certificate for a crime scene technician.

  Maybe she wanted to work for our police department?

  Lani opened her Internet access to view her previously visited sites. As he scrolled down the list, he found she had visited the Megan’s Law website frequently for the Hawaiian Islands. The last entry showed a man named Clarence Rasmussen. Arrested for rape, he did his time and was now a registered sex offender in the area. From what Lani could tell from the website, he resided in a nearby town Kapaa in Kauai.