The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📗

is arguing that cock fighting is a traditional sport and they have a legal right to practice it.”

“Explain that to the roosters.”

“Oh, right. Those cuddly, eye-gouging, flesh-ripping sons of dinosaurs?”

Kali shrugged. “Still kind of brutal, in my opinion. Especially when the birds get fitted out with those gruesome metal spurs. That’s straight out of a horror movie.”

“All I know is that organized cock fighting is breaking the law.” His phone buzzed, and he put down the flyers and glanced at the phone screen before he answered the call. He held it up so Kali could see Chief Pait’s name on the display.

“Hello, Chief,” he said. Then he frowned, nodding as he listened. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, got it, but I think Detective Mhoe . . . Right, understood.”

He ended the call and looked at Kali. “Guess who’s a featured podcast guest on Chad Caesar’s show this afternoon?”

She backed away a few steps, eyes widening. “No. Absolutely not. There is no possible way I am—”

“Relax!” said Walter, laughing. “It’s me. The chief wants me to appeal to the public. Guess I just have that special little something.”

“Yeah. You can keep a handle on your temper in Chad’s company, and I can’t.”

“True dat,” said Walter, still grinning. He looked around, gradually giving way to a weary expression. “Not that I’m looking forward to it either. For the moment, I’ll have to leave the paper sorting up to you and Hara.” He sighed and reached into his pocket, jiggling his car keys. “Feel free to call and interrupt at any time if you find anything here that we need to move on. Other than that, I’ll see you this evening. Wear shoes you can run in.”

Kali watched as he left, consumed with relief that it was Walter and not her who had to answer Chad’s questions. She picked up an armful of paper files and walked into the hallway and down a few doors to the building’s single supply room. It took several trips back and forth until the table was cleared. She left Hara in the storage area to organize the papers and flyers into separate plastic bins.

She stood in front of the table in the main station room, holding Manuel Raso’s photo album. She placed it on the table and turned the pages, removing a selection of photos and making a small pile. One by one, she spread them out on the surface, clustering those of Helen and Reggie in one corner, and placing the photo of Matthew Greene on the far side. She added the crime scene photos showing the bodies and their graves, and placed a gridded map of Lna‘i in the center, already marked with the exact location of each discovery. As she stood staring at the display, Hara joined her, looking thoughtfully at the materials that she’d set out.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Now we connect the dots,” said Kali, her mind already leaping between the past and the present, and all the places where monsters were likely to hide.

CHAPTER 19

Walter was clearly uncomfortable. He adjusted the bulky headset covering his ears, tugged at the collar of his police uniform, and glanced self-consciously toward a camera set on a tripod across from the table where he sat facing Chad Caesar. On Walter’s left, close by, a smiling young woman was making a last adjustment to the camera angle.

The heavy wood table that separated Walter from Chad was an oval covered by a thick, polished slab of dark marble. A glass shaped like a goblet, filled with water, had been placed in front of Walter’s chair, while an identical glass rested on the table in front of Chad. The wall to Walter’s right, also visible to the camera, was covered from floor to ceiling with colorful artwork. He recognized it as the work of a popular, up-and-coming Hawaiian graffiti artist whose art had been featured on the sides of buildings in O‘ahu. The bright backdrop was a swirling mélange of shapes and colors that surrounded a central cartoonish version of the famous Chiaramonti bust of Julius Caesar. Instead of Caesar’s face, a stylized likeness of Chad peered into the room. Running horizontally beneath the portrait was a banner that had been painted to make it look as though the letters were etched from stone, bearing the words I AM THE RULER OF THE NEWS in a Romanesque font.

Walter reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a square of white paper. He unfolded it and placed it on the table in front of him, next to his phone. The young woman finished fiddling with the camera equipment and smiled encouragingly at Walter, then gave Chad a thumbs-up. She counted down from three on her fingers, and then mouthed the word “Live.” Adjusting the microphone in front of him, Chad faced the camera, a huge smile on his face.

“Greetings, friends and followers! I’m both delighted and excited to tell you that joining me today is Captain Walter Alaka’i of the Maui Police Department.” He briefly flashed his smile at Walter, then grew serious. “We’re here, of course, to discuss the alarming news that there’s a serial killer loose in the vicinity.”

Walter twisted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. He glanced toward the camera, then back to Chad. “We’re live, right? People can hear us now?”

Chad smiled patiently. “Yes, Captain, we’re live. Viewers throughout the world have tuned in today, breathlessly anticipating what you have to share about the latest threat to our gentle life in Hawai‘i.”

Walter’s look was skeptical. “I’m not sure that you and I are living in the same Hawai‘i. And to our knowledge, there is no immediate threat.”

“How can you be so certain?” Chad’s response was quick, his voice taking on a tone of urgency. He leaned slightly over the table toward Walter, pushing the microphone forward so that it stayed in line with his mouth. “Dozens of bodies, all . . .”

“That’s incorrect. We . . .” Walter’s voice faded.

Chad gestured. “You