Page 68 of Deadly Sacrifice

Finally she reached the exclusive development area of Kapalua and turned into the private road leading to the Steinbrenner estate.

The security gate was wide open as she drove toward it. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. Oh, Helen, am I too late?”

Katie whizzed into the turnaround and killed the engine, drawing up behind a plain gray van. “The bastard beat me here.” She jumped out of the car and drew her Glock, dropping into the tactical stance she'd practiced countless times at the range.

She approached the house’s front door, finding it ajar. “Not good.” What would she find inside? She almost couldn’t bear to find out. And she didn’t dare call out and identify herself; that might get Helen killed.

She listened instead—and heard the unmistakable thumps and crashes of a struggle—then a woman’s scream, silenced abruptly.

“This perp is going down.” Katie shoved the door open and slipped inside.

41

LEI

After she left Katie,Lei met up with Pono to surveil Beck Noble. She turned off her phone to stay focused as the partners sat in Lei’s silver Tacoma, more low profile than Stanley’s sparkling purple glory.

Pono raised a pair of binoculars to watch Noble, talking to his attorney, walk out of the jail. From their angle parked on the street, the two men were clearly visible standing on the sidewalk of the facility parking lot, conversing.

“I got the authorization to tap Noble’s phone,” Pono said. “The tech department’s setting it up. We’ll monitor on an app.”

“Good work, partner. Hopefully we can get a trace on Mank when he calls Noble to put the squeeze on him again,” Lei said. “Meanwhile . . . wish I was better at reading lips.”

“Me too.”

The two men got into the attorney’s car. Lei and Pono, hanging back a bit, tracked them to Noble’s address in Kihei. Lei picked a spot under a handy monkeypod tree to park and keep an eye on the house. The lawyer dropped off the rumpled-looking project manager at his small bungalow and drove away.

Once Noble entered his dwelling and they were settled in, Lei turned her phone on to check for messages—and received a frantic voice mail from Katie.

“Holy shit!” Lei fired up the Tacoma. “Katie’s got an ID from one of the photos taken at La Perouse. Bill Wilkinson’s our guy! Katie’s worried he might have his eye on Helen as the next victim, not Noble.”

“Let’s go scoop him up,” Pono exclaimed.

“Call Dispatch and let them know we’re going to Wilkinson’s place, and to send a unit to sit on Noble in case Wilkinson—or Mank—shows up at this address.” Lei was already pulling the Tacoma into traffic. She turned on her cop light and put it on the dash as Pono worked the radio, contacting Dispatch with their updates.

“Copy that,” Dispatch said. “Advising you that Investigator McHenry notified us that she’s on her way to a 10-70 on the west side.” Ten-seventy was code for suspected prowler/home invasion.

“That girl! She has to be heading out to warn Helen Steinbrenner,” Lei said to Pono. Her already high adrenaline level spiked. She grabbed the radio out of her partner’s hand. “Dispatch, did you send backup to the address?”

“Already requested,” Dispatch said, maddeningly calm as usual. “Over and out.”

“Sure hope we get this guy at his house and Katie’s trip out there is a false alarm,” Lei said. She cranked the truck around a slow vehicle. Her phone GPS, set to Wilkinson’s address, directed a left turn; she practically took it on two wheels.

Pono grabbed a support handle on the truck’s door with a yelp. “Watch it,sistah!”

A chicken in the road, startled by their speed, flew up and over the windshield in a burst of feathers.

Lei cursed, Pono barked a laugh—and in a minute they pulled into Wilkinson’s short cement driveway and stopped with a screech just short of a closed garage. The two drew weapons and approached the front door through thick afternoon heat that smelled of a neighbor’s fresh cut grass. Their shoes crunched on a crushed coral path leading to the front door as they approached, weapons drawn and held low.

Sweat trickled down Lei's back; she wished she was wearing her tactical vest. "Police! Open up!" Lei's voice echoed off against the house's blank windows. Only the whine of distant lawn equipment answered.

"Bill Wilkinson! Maui Police Department!" Pono's fist thundered against the front door, making the brass knocker rattle. The hollow echo suggested flimsiness—and emptiness inside the house.

Lei caught Pono's eye and nodded. He stepped back, adjusted his stance, and drove his boot just beside the lock. The door frame splintered with a sharp crack that sent a gecko scurrying up the wall from behind the porch light.

The partners moved through the house in practiced formation, clearing each room. The air inside felt over-air-conditioned, sterile, carrying a faint chemical smell of bleach. No family photos adorned the walls, no magazines lay scattered. Generic furniture was arranged like a staging, with pizza boxes and beer bottles the only personal decor.

"Clear!" Lei called from a bedroom where the bed was rumpled and unmade; clothes were tossed about in typical bachelor fashion.

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