Marissa shot to her feet, scowling, causing Daphne to take an involuntary step backward. “I’m not going back to jail. It was awful in there. If you try to put me there again, you’ll be sorry.”

  I’m already sorry for letting down my guard, Daphne told herself. But she had to stand her ground. Otherwise, she might never be rid of her. Especially since the authorities weren’t able to hold onto her. “You don’t have to go to jail, Marissa,” she spoke softly. “But I think you do need help. Following someone around against her wishes is not cool. I get that you like my writing and all, but this has got to stop.”

  “No, it doesn’t!” Her voice raised a couple of eerie notches as Marissa got up into her face. “Why can’t you see what I can? We were meant to be friends. I love your books and can offer my suggestions to make them even better in the future. Don’t mess this up for us, Daphne.” Her thin brows lowered over her narrowed eyes. “I won’t let that cop come between us.”

  “What?” Daphne played innocent to her direct threat against Kenneth.

  “You heard me,” she snapped. “I’ve seen him with you. And I’m guessing he wants you to move here.” Her lower lip hung down angrily. “Where does that leave me as your number one fan? We both belong in Alabama. Not Hawaii.”

  I’m not sure where I belong anymore, Daphne told herself truthfully. If it was to be with Kenneth, she would know soon enough. What was clear, however, was that her stalker was unwilling to take no for an answer. Making her all the more dangerous. “I need time to think,” she told her, hoping this would get her to leave long enough to have her arrested. “Can you give me that much?”

  Marissa ran a sunburned hand through her hair thoughtfully. “Yeah, I can.” Another pause, then a stark warning, “But don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t.” Daphne pretended to play nice. “So, where are you staying?” That would make it easier to pass on to the police.

  “Never mind,” she snorted smartly. “I’m going...for now.” She regarded her with a menacing stare. “See you later.”

  On that note, Marissa rushed out of the villa as if she had somewhere better to be. Daphne quickly locked the door and took a moment to get herself together. She had managed to avoid a confrontation that could have ended in disaster. But how long before Marissa came back, crazier than the last time? Or could she be taken into custody first?

  Daphne went back into her interim office and grabbed her cell phone off the computer table. She punched the redial for Kenneth and when he answered, she said unsteadily, “You won’t believe who just paid me a visit.”

  “Who?”

  “Marissa Sheffield, my stalker from Alabama,” Daphne made clear.

  “Marissa Sheffield was there?” Kenneth asked in disbelief.

  “Yes.” Daphne raised her voice. “She tracked me to Maui,” Daphne hated to say it. “What’s more, she threatened us both.” She sucked in a deep breath before stating flatly, “And I’m afraid she means business.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kenneth’s mouth was agape as he stood inside Daphne’s villa before reiterating what he’d asked earlier on the phone, “Marissa Sheffield actually showed up here?”

  “In the flesh,” Daphne informed him. “She was standing right where you’re standing now. Only it was much more unnerving.”

  “Sorry you had to go through that.” More than he could say as Kenneth hated that the unstable stalker had given Daphne a whole new cause for concern on Maui.

  “I thought you said Marissa never left Alabama?” Daphne’s arms were folded petulantly.

  “She hadn’t,” Kenneth defended his previous words. “At least not at that point. Somehow, she was able to evade tracking and make her way here.”

  “She’s been following me...us,” Daphne uttered. “Who knows for how long? Point is, she’s clearly dangerous, Kenneth. Unless you arrest her for stalking and, I don’t know, violating the conditions of her bail, there’s no telling what she may be capable of.”

  “I agree,” he spoke in earnest, troubled that the stalker had threatened him as well. “Which is all the more reason why I’d like you to stay at my place, with a security system, till we can find her. We’ve issued a BOLO for Marissa Sheffield, using both her mug shot and your description of her current look, and should be able to take her into custody in short order. Still, it’s best to be on the safe side.” Beyond that, Kenneth liked the idea of having Daphne close by as long as an elusive serial killer was also on the loose and even more of a threat to her health and well-being. If being accosted by a mentally unstable stalker could do the trick, so be it.

  “Okay,” Daphne relented. “Maybe it is a smart idea to not ask for trouble if I can possibly avoid it.”

  Kenneth wondered if there was a dual message in there somewhere. “I do have a spare bedroom that you’re welcome to use, if you like.” Far be it for him to presume she’d want to share his bed every night, and even during daylight hours, simply because it was something that worked for him for as long as she remained on the island. “I have no problem setting up boundaries, if that’s what it takes to keep you out of harm’s way.”

  “Boundaries aren’t necessary,” Daphne stressed. “But it’s only fair that I have my own space, when needed. At least till we know where this is going between us.”

  “I understand,” Kenneth told her. How could he not? After all, he was just as uncertain about what would become of them once she had completed her research and needed to return to the life she’d made for herself in Tuscaloosa. Would she welcome him there with open arms? Would relocating to Maui be out of the question for her when it came right down to it? Now was not the time to tackle those questions but rather get her to safer ground.

  “Mahalo,” Daphne uttered, stepping up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “We’ll have a nice long talk once we’re past all this unwanted drama.”

  “Yeah.” He held her close, wishing it could last a lifetime. Maybe it could. If that drama, which included a demented stalker and diabolical killer, didn’t swallow them whole. And with it, any hopes for the future.

  * * *

  “ANY NEWS ON Marissa Sheffield?” Daphne asked Detective Vanessa Ringwald the following morning when she showed up at Kenneth’s house.

  Vanessa shook her head. “Not yet. We’re checking all the local accommodations to see if she’s staying at any of them. So far, nothing. But don’t worry. She can’t hide forever. We’ll get her.”

  “Hope so.” Daphne gave her a little smile, thankful that the detective had been nonjudgmental in finding her staying with Kenneth temporarily. Though the idea of it becoming a more permanent situation appealed to her on a serious level, Daphne didn’t dare cross over into the realm of thinking prematurely. For one, Kenneth hadn’t invited her to stay. For another, the nature of what they meant to one another still had not been defined in terms beyond the surface. So she would wait, focusing instead on the moment at hand. Her stalker was out there somewhere, looking for another opportunity to come after her.

  Kenneth, who was holding a mug of coffee as they stood in the kitchen, said, “Vanessa’s right, Daphne. Now that we’re onto Sheffield, it’s only a matter of time before we track her down. In the meantime, I’m assigning an officer to remain outside in case she shows up here, my excellent security system notwithstanding. And should you want to go out, which I suspect is a given, to continue your work or whatever, he’ll follow and keep an eye on you.”

  Daphne frowned. “Is that really necessary?” It almost felt like she was a prisoner rather than someone who made a good living writing about criminals who ended up in prison.

  “I’m afraid so,” Kenneth insisted. “Best not to take any chances that Sheffield could give us the slip and go for broke to get to you.”

  “He’s right,” Vanessa pitched in. “I’ve seen or heard about cases like this when obsessed stalker fans crossed over into homicidal maniacs.”

  Unfortunately, Daphne was also familiar with such incidences of stalking that ended in tragedy. The murder of musician John Lennon by Mark David Chapman and actress Rebecca Schaeffer by Robert John Bardo came to mind. She had no wish to become a fatality and yesterday’s news by being defiant toward those who wanted to help keep her safe. “Fine,” she told them. “Whatever you think is necessary.”

  Kenneth grinned at her. “Good.”

  Daphne got a warm feeling inside as she thought of them cuddling last night without the sex, illustrating that what they had went beyond carnal impulses. She smiled back at him and left it at that, while lifting up her mug of coffee from the slate countertop.

  When her cell phone rang, Vanessa answered it with, “Ringwald,” listened and told the caller, “We’re on our way.” Disconnecting, she turned toward Kenneth, a bleak look crossing her face. “There’s been a report of a woman’s body being found at the Lei Motel on Wharf Street in Lahaina. Appears as though she was suffocated with a plastic bag over her head.”

  For whatever reason, Daphne got a bad feeling that the victim was none other than her stalker, Marissa Sheffield. If true, the thought that she had fallen prey to a serial killer bothered Daphne, making her feel guilty for unwittingly bringing the obsessed fan to the island, resulting in the loss of Marissa’s life.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T DAPHNE’S stalker after all, Kenneth knew, as he studied the victim. She was slender and around five-six, sitting in a tufted armchair in the small motel room. Her narrow face was covered by a plastic bag, twisted in agony from being suffocated. Long thin dark hair in a curly down style was swept to one side. She was fully clothed in a floral print V-neck ruched dress and block heel black sandals while wearing an orchid flower lei.

  “According to her driver’s license,” Agent Noelle Kaniho said, “the victim’s name is Ashley Gibson. The twenty-five-year-old lived in Westport, Connecticut. Her body was discovered by a housekeeper.”

  “Based on Ms. Gibson’s clothes,” Kenneth said, “I’d say she’s been like that all night.”

  “Must have been a hell of a night,” Agent Kirk Guilfoyle suggested sardonically. “Gibson had apparently been vacationing on the island, according to a front-desk worker, and was particularly keen on its nightlife.”

  Kenneth wondered if the killer had followed her from one of the hot spots. Or even left with her, unsuspecting of what was in store. He homed in on what looked to be a burn mark at the base of her throat. “He used the stun gun on her to gain complete control.”

  “Seems that way,” Vanessa said sadly.

  “There’s no quitting with this guy,” Guilfoyle bemoaned. “Not that I would expect the unsub to throw in the towel, as long as he can find victims to asphyxiate the life out of.”

  Kenneth furrowed his brow. “The Maui Suffocation Killer moniker has definitely gone to the perp’s head,” he speculated. “He’s getting more and more brazen with each kill, putting us on notice that he’s very much still in business and having fun in a maniacal fashion.” Kenneth was thoughtful. “But since it’s likely that we’re looking for a man named Tommy, who we now have on video, along with a digital sketch, I think we’re closing in on him, whether he likes it or not.”

  “You could be right about that,” Noelle agreed. Putting on a nitrile glove, she lifted the victim’s pale hand, studying the long, pink-colored fingernails. “Looks like there’s dry blood beneath them. My guess is that it belongs to her attacker. Can you say DNA?”

  “Yeah, definitely some DNA there,” Kenneth agreed, “most likely from the unsub.” Of course, he understood that even if that were the case, they still needed a match to identify the person.

  They were joined by the medical examiner and coroner, who griped, “This is starting to get annoying.”

  “I think it’s way past the starting point,” Kenneth said, being real about it.

  “You’re right, unfortunately,” Rudy Samudio admitted, putting on his latex gloves. He immediately began his preliminary examination of the decedent, noting the DNA beneath her nails. Afterward, he said, “I hate to sound like a broken record, but the victim almost certainly was killed due to asphyxia sometime between one and five a.m. But she did manage to scratch her assailant.”

  “Or in other words, Doc, we’re talking about another victim of the serial killer?” Guilfoyle put forth.

  Samudio nodded. “No reason to believe otherwise at this point, given the similarities between the victims and manner of death. It’ll be up to you guys to make the final call.”

  “It’s been made for us,” Kenneth spoke bluntly. “Now we just need to stop him before the next victim crosses his path.”

  As the crime scene technicians took over and interviews commenced with other motel guests and staff, Kenneth thought of Daphne, knowing she had feared the victim was the person stalking her. The fact that this possibility bothered Daphne so, in spite of the danger Marissa Sheffield posed, told Kenneth everything he needed to know about what a special woman Daphne was. Not that he hadn’t already realized that before now. It only added to the growing number of reasons why he was crazy about her in a perfectly sane way. He stepped away and phoned her. “Just wanted you to know that your stalker wasn’t the latest victim.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” Daphne uttered, “weird as that may sound.”

  “Doesn’t sound weird at all,” Kenneth told her. “You’re not the type who would wish a horrible death on anyone. Not even Marissa Sheffield.”

  “You’re right about that. She’s become a real problem, but no one should have her life taken away at the hands of a serial killer.”

  “Sheffield has managed to avoid that fate, for now,” Kenneth warned. “Hopefully, we’ll find her before the perp manages to target her. Or your stalker takes another crack at threatening you.”

  “I’m with you on both fronts,” Daphne said. “But I think you know that.”

  “I do.” He was beginning to know her all too well and wouldn’t have it any other way. “I have to go,” he told her and reminded her to be careful while feeling comforted in knowing the muscular and veteran officer he had assigned to Daphne would be there to safeguard her should trouble come her way.

  * * *

  “ALOHA,” FRANCIS HIRAGA said to Daphne over the phone, surprised to hear from him.

  “Aloha,” she responded.

  “I don’t know if you’re interested in this or not, but I’m about to head over to the cemetery to pay a visit to Jenny’s gravesite on the one-year anniversary of her death. I thought you might like to come for some added perspective when writing about the tragedy.”

  Daphne had not expected such an invitation. Her first thought was to pass, but then she remembered why she was on Maui in the first place. She couldn’t allow the uneasiness of a stalker and a serial killer on the loose to cloud her judgment as a true crime writer unafraid to take chances. Surely, Kenneth understood that? Moreover, she did have Officer Jose Menendez ready to step in between her and danger. What little she knew of the six foot four brawny and baldheaded fortysomething widower with a horseshoe mustache was that he was a no-nonsense kind of guy and took his job seriously. That was good enough for Daphne as she felt the same about her occupation. She told Francis, “Yes, I would like to see where Jenny is buried.” She assumed her mother, daughter, daughter’s boyfriend and even Norman Takahashi himself were in the cemetery as well.

  “Mahalo,” Francis said and gave her directions. “See you soon.”

  Daphne texted Kenneth about her plans, then hitched a ride with Officer Menendez to the Heavenly Palms Cemetery on Waiale Road in Wailuku, following a slight detour to a local florist, where she purchased a bouquet of fresh lilies. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” Menendez told her, standing outside his vehicle. Daphne nodded and headed across the grass to the nearby gravesite, where Francis was placing red roses against the white marble headstone.

  He lifted and turned when he heard her. “I appreciate you coming.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” she told him, and set the bouquet beside his flowers.

  Francis bowed his head. “Nice of you to do that.”

  Daphne’s eyes twinkled. She glanced at the gravesites of Sarah Takahashi, Donna Duldulao and Lucas Piimauna while noting that Norman Takahashi’s grave was nowhere to be found. Gazing back at Francis, Daphne said thoughtfully, “I know how difficult this must be for you.” Even now, whenever visiting her parents’ graves, she grieved in wondering why their lives had to end in such a tragic way.

  “It was a boy,” Francis reflected on his unborn child. “We were going to name him Makoa, which means fearless and courageous in Hawaiian.”

  “It’s a good name,” Daphne said sincerely.

  “Yes, I think so.” Francis paused, staring down at his Oxford shoes. He looked up at her. “So, how’s the research coming for your book?”

  “I’m just about done with it,” she answered. “At least the part I needed to do on the island.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “If you want to take a picture of Jenny’s grave for the book so people can always remember her, feel free to do so.”

  Daphne nodded to that effect, but declined, feeling it was unseemly, even if a common element of many true crime books. Some things, she believed, should be left alone.

  “I saw you on television,” he commented. “I thought you did a nice job talking about your books and the serial killer we’re currently dealing with on Maui.”

  At the reference to the serial killer case, Daphne looked instinctively at Officer Menendez, who was watching them and wouldn’t take long to close the gap if needed. Turning back to Francis, Daphne tried to picture him as the Maui Suffocation Killer, but somehow that didn’t seem to be a good fit. Or could she be unwisely thrown off by him being an ER doctor who was supposed to save lives, not take them?