Chapter Five

  After seeing to it that Katrina got back to the lodge without someone stalking her, Dex walked her to her suite and helped bring the bags inside. While he probably should have checked himself at the door, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the personal space she occupied at the lodge. “Nice,” he said, and imagined her living there alone and possibly lonely, as he set the bags down.

  “Mahalo. Took a while to completely furnish, but I like it.” Katrina looked comfortable in her element, though Dex could still tell that she was troubled by the recent events that had her on edge. As was he, unable to shake the feeling that what she was going through was somehow connected to his undercover investigation, which increased the stakes even more. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  They were standing close enough that Dex could actually kiss Katrina if he had a mind to. While the man in him, clearly attracted to her in ways he struggled to control, wanted nothing more than to throw the playbook out the window when it came to suspects, his more sensible side told him to resist making a move that could undermine the investigation into Roxanne’s death. Not to mention the possibility that the Maoli Lodge was a front for drug trafficking on the island. “I need to get back to my place and feed Barnabas,” Dex said, declining the invite, as he took a step away from her. He may have read disappointment in her face, prompting him to ask, out of curiosity, “So, how were things between you and your husband?”

  Her lips twitched thoughtfully. “If you’re asking did I love Joseph when he died?—the answer is yes, I did love him.” She paused. “Not sure, though, that I was still in love with him. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, it does,” he told her sincerely.

  “Does that make me a bad wife or widow?”

  “Not at all.” Dex met her eyes. “Some relationships can start to lose steam over time.”

  She held his gaze. “I suppose.”

  “Part of life.” He gave her a tender smile. “Can I take a rain check on that drink?”

  “Of course.” Her eyes lit up. “Anytime.”

  Dex nodded at the thought and found himself wondering what it would be like to get her into bed. Something told him he wouldn’t be any more disappointed than she would be, were the opportunity to ever present itself. Dropping his temperature down a notch, Dex said in a professional manner, “If you happen to see the man who was following you again, let me know.”

  She nodded uneasily. “I will.”

  “Probably not a bad idea to avoid traveling away from the lodge by yourself for the time being,” he strongly suggested, “till we can get a better handle on the note and the person who may be tracking you.”

  “I hear you and agree,” she told him, running a hand through her hair. “I promise not to go venturing out alone until the coast is clear.”

  Dex grinned with satisfaction. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss,” he said lightheartedly, and left.

  * * *

  BARNABAS ZIGZAGGED IN the backyard, as though on an obstacle course around avocado, lemon, lychee and papaya trees, which the K-9 operative dog handled masterfully in the absence of his real duties, as he went after the ball Dex threw for exercise. “Good boy,” he applauded his canine and loyal friend, as Barnabas mouthed the ball and brought it back to him; whereby Dex threw it again for him to fetch. Once they had gotten this out of their systems, they headed back inside the cottage. There, Barnabas was fed, while Dex had a couple of slices of pepperoni, sausage and pineapple pizza and a beer. He updated Lynda and Ishikawa on his progress, or lack thereof, in locating the note writer. He also gave them a description of the man who Katrina said was following her, along with the dark Jeep Grand Cherokee she believed was tracking her, presumably driven by the same man. Finding out both their identities, if not the same person, was key to perhaps linking Joseph Sizemore’s death to that of Agent Yamamoto in relation to trafficking of drugs at the lodge.

  Dex gave the case a rest as he hopped into the shower. He wondered about Katrina and how good they could be together. Whether or not they ever got to put that to the test remained to be seen. He preferred not to look too far ahead, with things as they were in both their lives. Still, a man could dream a little. Couldn’t he?

  In the morning, after a mostly sleepless night, Dex went for a brisk walk with Barnabas before meeting Agents Krause and Ishikawa at the Kauai Police Department on Kaana Street in Lihue for the Drug Task Force briefing. It was held in a conference room and Dex ran into some familiar faces between other DEA agents, FBI, IRS and US Postal inspectors represented; he met members of the PD’s vice section for the second time since arriving on Kauai. The fact that everyone seemed on the same page meant a lot to him, as Dex understood that complex multiagency, multistate operations such as this one involving the trafficking of illicit drugs required cooperation, along with patience.

  Admittedly, he was short on the latter, as bringing to justice those responsible for the death of Roxanne Yamamoto was front and center with Dex. Along with whether or not Joseph Sizemore’s death truly was a homicide, and if someone was after Katrina as well. The idea of the lovely lodge owner falling prey to a killer was something Dex had started to take personally. He would be damned if he let that happen. Even if her own innocence in drug trafficking had yet to be established, in getting to know her so far, he sensed she had no involvement in the criminal activity. Could the same be said of Sizemore before his demise? If so, was the connection there?

  As if reading Dex’s mind, Ishikawa whispered from the seat beside him, “By the way, we came up with nothing in the way of fingerprints from the note. Pulling DNA from it will take a little longer, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on anything coming from it either.”

  “What a shock,” Dex said wryly. “Maybe whoever left the note will do us a favor the next time around and give us something to help identify them. Obviously, I’m really hoping it’s the last Katrina will hear from the person,” he made clear.

  “Don’t count on it.” Lynda threw cold water on that, sitting on the other side of Dex. “If this unsub truly believes what he or she says and is not tossing garbage at the lady just to push her buttons, then Katrina is likely to hear from them again.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of, Dex told himself, as he considered the impact of such on the investigation. He homed in on Kauai PD Vice’s veteran detective Clayton Pietz, who was the lead local investigator of the case with a proven record of drug-trafficking interdiction. Thirtysomething, tall and slender, he had a dark buzz-cut fade hairstyle and horseshoe mustache.

  Pietz stood by a large touch screen monitor and updated them on the investigation. “I don’t think I need to tell any of you here that West Coast and international drug-trafficking gangs and organizations, attracted to the year-round great weather and drug use among tourists, are flocking to Hawaii, pedaling everything, including lethal fentanyl-laced meth, heroin and opioids.” He switched from a picturesque image to that of various drugs with a Hawaiian backdrop. “Here on Kauai, we’re being hit just as hard as the other islands, with illicit drugs being smuggled in and out at a premium, moved around in an effort to avoid detection and apprehension of the traffickers, and often controlled by well-armed thugs. Our job is to break up these highly profitable operations whenever possible and, when not, put a serious dent in them so they think twice about doing business on Kauai.”

  Pietz touched the screen and showed various locations on the island, while he said, “We believe that traffickers have chosen different sites to hold, display and distribute illegal drugs, including the Maoli Lodge, which the owners may or may not have been aware of.” He put a photograph of Roxanne on the screen. “As you know, a member of our Task Force, DEA Agent Roxanne Yamamoto, was killed last month during an undercover assignment in apparent retaliation by traffickers for doing her job in trying to build a case against them. We’re doing everything we can to bring her killer or killers to justice. Assisting in this regard is DEA special agent Dex Adair and agents Lynda Krause and Sylvester Ishikawa. On behalf of Agent Yamamoto, you’ve got our full support.”

  That was just what Dex needed to hear, as he was determined to get to the bottom of Roxanne’s death and how it fit with the other dynamics of the investigation. He watched as US Postal Inspector Pauline Taomoto took Pietz’s place. Fortysomething and slim, with an ash-blond shag, she connected the dots between the drug bust in Downtown Los Angeles and trafficking on Kauai.

  “As part of this wide-ranging drug operation, some of the same players have been involved in the attempted shipping of packages of crystal meth from LA to the island,” Pauline was saying, “which we were able to intercept with the assistance of a no-nonsense drug detection K-9 named Kimiko. To make a long story shorter, with the illicit goods in our possession, along with damaging calls and text messages between suspects, we’re building a case against them that will likely result in lengthy prison sentences.”

  This was music to everyone’s ears, including Dex’s. After the briefing wrapped up, he sent Lynda and Ishikawa to get more from Pauline on the case being made against the traffickers in Southern California and Kauai and linking it to their own investigation. Dex met with Detective Pietz in his spacious office with a picture window for some follow-up questions.

  “Have a seat,” he said casually, blue-gray eyes upon Dex while sitting in a brown high-backed chair at an oak desk.

  Dex sat across from him on a beige task chair, noting a framed photograph on the wall of Pietz with his wife and a young son. Another framed pic held a commendation he received for his work with drug-related investigations and organized crime. Without any small talk, Dex went right at it in seeking any new leads in the probe into Roxanne’s death. “Where are we in the investigation?”

  “We’re following some paths that should soon result in one or more arrests,” Pietz said, leaning back with his large hands pressed together.

  “Can you be more specific?” Dex asked, narrowing his gaze.

  “Yeah, specifically, we’re homing in on an ex-con who we think may’ve cut the brake lines of the car Agent Yamamoto was driving that night. I can’t tell you much more right now, other than that we’re attempting to establish who he may have been working for and how far up the chain this goes...”

  “Where does the Maoli Lodge fit into this?”

  Pietz ran a hand across his mustache. “As of now, we believe it may be a drop-off point for drugs and drug money that is quickly moved to other more secure locations for handling and distribution. It’s still being investigated.”

  “And also got Agent Yamamoto killed,” Dex pointed out hotly, not wanting her death to be undermined in any way.

  “I understand that and we’re not cutting any corners to nail the unsub,” Pietz insisted calmly. “We’re all on the same page here, Adair.”

  “Good to know.” Dex realized he may have overreacted. He had no beef with the detective and wanted to work with him for the common good. “Have you been able to tie Joseph Sizemore to drug trafficking?”

  Pietz jutted his chin. “Not in so many words.”

  “What does that mean?” Dex pressed.

  “It means that, as of now, we have no solid evidence that Sizemore was trafficking in drugs before his kayaking accident. But we are aware that he was having money problems in running the lodge. Whether he financed it with dirty money has yet to be determined.”

  Money troubles? Dex wondered if Katrina was aware of this. And if the lodge could still be under water and under pressure from drug traffickers or other criminals. “What about Sizemore’s widow?”

  “We haven’t been able to make a case for her being involved in any illicit activities or Agent Yamamoto’s death,” Pietz told him frankly, which allowed Dex to breathe a sigh of relief. Clearing Katrina of any wrongdoing would make it easier to be around her without having to wonder if there was something sinister below the attractive surface to her.

  “Someone’s been following Katrina Sizemore,” he told the detective thoughtfully.

  Pietz lifted a brow. “What, you mean like stalking her?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Dex took a breath. “This comes after she was left a note saying that Sizemore’s death wasn’t an accident, but murder, with the implication that Katrina could be next.”

  “That’s news to me,” Pietz contended.

  “You mean that Sizemore’s death may not have been accidental or the note?” Dex pressed his shoes against the brown carpet tile.

  “Both. The autopsy report indicated that the man drowned as a result of his kayak capsizing. I have no reason to believe otherwise.” Pietz glanced out the window and back. “As for the stalker and note, neither came from this office, I can promise you. If someone is after Katrina Sizemore, it’s not related to our investigation.”

  Dex wasn’t sure he bought that, given the correlation between one thing and another. But in the absence of anything to push back, he thought it best to leave it alone right now. At least insofar as pressing for answers the detective apparently didn’t have. Instead, Dex would channel his focus toward Katrina and her safety, having been given a whole new reason to cozy up to her now that she was off the radar as a suspect in Roxanne’s murder.

  * * *

  “ALOHA AND WELCOME to the Maoli Lodge,” Katrina greeted her newest guests. They were an attractive family of four, having ventured to the island all the way from Dublin, Ireland, for vacation. Someday, she hoped to return the favor, welcoming the opportunity to visit Ireland and elsewhere in Europe as well as Australia and New Zealand. She and Joseph had talked about it as something to do down the line once they were established on Kauai. But then the dreams had been shattered and any such plans for herself were put on hold.

  After checking the Byrnes family in, Katrina used a pause in the action to check her cell phone. For whatever reason, she had hoped to hear from Dex. Why? Maybe because they had come so close to kissing yesterday after he’d walked her back to her suite. And what if he had? How might that have changed the dynamic of their, up to this point, strictly working relationship? She wasn’t sure, but wouldn’t run away from the fact that the pianist and private investigator did stir something in her and maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to see where it could lead.

  Her mind pivoted to the man who she believed was following her the day before. Who was he? Had he stayed at the lodge and somehow become fixated on her? Or did it have something—or everything—to do with the note she received? When another guest showed up to check in, Katrina dropped that train of thought and put on her hospitable smile as she laid eyes on the tall and thin Hawaiian girl who looked to be in her teens with long, straight raven hair. “Are you Katrina Sizemore?” she asked nervously.

  “Yes, that’s me,” Katrina said, looking at her curiously.

  “I was told to give this to you...” She handed her a folded piece of paper.

  A chill ran through Katrina. “Who told you?”

  The teenager tensed. “Just a man. He gave me ten bucks to give that to you...told me not to open it.”

  “What did he look like?” Katrina demanded, narrowing her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Tall, muscular, I guess. Had dark hair and was wearing shades.”

  That had to be the same man who was following me, Katrina thought with dread. Had he been inside the lodge, watching her as she had sensed someone doing? Where was he now? She glared at the teen. “Can you show him to me?”

  “Nope, sorry. He got in a Jeep afterward and drove off.”

  Had to be the same Jeep Grand Cherokee that trailed me to the mall, Katrina told herself undoubtedly. “Was he with anyone in the Jeep?”

  “Don’t know. Couldn’t see inside.” The girl looked jittery. “I have to go.”

  Katrina nodded understandingly, realizing that she was merely a messenger who this mysterious man used to further conceal his identity. She watched as the teen walked outside and then started to run, as though she couldn’t get away fast enough. Only then did Katrina look down at the still folded note in her hands, almost afraid to open it. But she was more afraid not to see what he had to say next about Joseph and her. Unfolding the note with shaky fingers, she read.

  Joseph Sizemore died as the result of an intentional drug overdose, whether you choose to believe it or not. Drowning only masked the truth about his murder. Speaking of truth, trust no one. That includes your pianist and so-called protector. He’s not who you think he is.

  Katrina dropped the note on the counter, as if it were a hot coal, while trying to come to grips with its portentous message. Drug overdose homicide? Trust no one? Could Dex actually be involved in the murder of Joseph, while pretending to be someone she could count on for support?

  “Hey,” she was given a start when hearing the familiar deep voice. Katrina raised her head and stared into the handsome face of Dex Matheson, whom she was seeing in a whole new and disturbing light. He was standing there beside his dog, Barnabas. “Is everything all right?” Dex asked, his tone seemingly picking up on her combination of vexation and worry.

  “Just who the hell are you?” Katrina demanded, her own inflection making it clear that nothing less than the truth would suffice. And even that, she sensed, would alter the essence of whatever existed between them.

  Chapter Six

  Dex was admittedly speechless for a long moment as he took in the exacting question, feeling as though he had been caught red-handed. Or worse, that she could suddenly see through his facade. It was obvious to him that something—or someone—had exposed him, to one degree or another. Who? He noted the piece of paper on the counter that separated them, seemingly into a deep divide. No doubt, it was another cryptic message. Dex decided for the time being to play the innocent and pretend he was befuddled by the question. “Not sure I follow you,” he said coolly, while holding on to Barnabas’s leash. “I’m the same guy you hired—twice—to work for you...”