Page 4 of Still See You Everywhere

“No.”

“Are you a computer hacker, someone who can discover a speck of sand in the desert just by following its purchase patterns on the internet?”

“Don’t even own a smart phone.”

Keahi frowns. “Then what are you?”

“A person with a really obsessive hobby.”

Her frown deepens. “Victoria says you’ve found everyone you’ve ever searched for. How?”

“I ask questions. Lots of questions. Sometimes, it’s as simple as people being willing to talk so many years later. And sometimes, it’s that I’m not the police, making neighbors in certain communities more willing to disclose the truth.” I shrug. “Once someone starts to talk, I make sure I listen. Not enough people do that anymore.”

“How many cases have you solved?”

“Nearly twenty.”

“You brought people home to their families?”

“I brought closure to their families.”

Keahi’s lips quirk. She isn’t fooled by my answer. Neither am I.

“You don’t take money.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not about the money.”

“What’s it about?”

“What do you care?”

She grins at my burst of temper. I make my first realization about my new serial killer friend. She likes anger, feels comfortable with rage. Kindness, on the other hand, is probably incredibly threatening to her. And someone like me, who helps people for no other reason than I want to, must seem like a foreign species.

Finally, we’re on equal footing—both of us are alien to each other.

“They will kill me in three weeks,” she says now, clearly seeking another reaction.

“Do the crime, serve the time.”

Keahi actually laughs. Beside me, however, Twanow has stiffened in distress. Apparently, she cares more about her client’s upcoming execution than her client does.

“We still have options,” Twanow starts now.

Keahi is already waving away her lawyer’s words. “I’m not looking to delay the inevitable. I don’t repent killing those men. Let me out of here tomorrow and I’ll start right back up again. I’m an animal. Animals get put down.”

Twanow blinks her eyes rapidly, her gaze now locked on her yellow legal pad covered in scrawled notes. She’s young and idealistic, I think. Maybe that committed to a client she’s had years to come to know, or maybe just that determined about defeating the death penalty. There’s one more element, however, that no one is mentioning: earnest lawyer Victoria and her stone-cold killer client are roughly the same age. In fact, Keahi is probably the younger, scheduled to be executed at the ripe old age of thirty-two. She doesn’t look fresh-faced and dewy-eyed, though. Her beauty comes with a hard edge, lips that might be full but never happy, eyes that are deep, dark pools, but mostly of homicidal intent.

“Why?” I speak up now. I can’t help myself; I’m genuinely curious. “Why did you kill those men?”

“They lied to me. I asked them to never leave, and they did. After that…”

“You picked up strange men in bars and expected them to stay?”

“Bad strategy?”

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