Page 69 of Deadly Sacrifice

"Clear!" Pono's voice echoed from the kitchen. They converged in the living room, the sound of their controlled breathing loud in the empty space. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, casting rotating shadows.

"Garage?" Pono suggested, wiping sweat from his forehead. The interior garage door refused to budge. Another kick, another splintering crack that seemed to ricochet off the bare walls.

The garage air hit them like a wall—sharp with bleach, motor oil, and something metallic that made Lei's stomach clench. Her tactical flashlight beam cut through the dimness, highlighting a bare workbench and two white plastic buckets lined up against a utility sink. The concrete floor was spotless.

Pono approached a metal barrel with an exterior venting hood over it. The fan was still going and set near the window, which was cracked to admit a little air. “Looks like nothing but ash in here. He burned something.”

Lei checked the washer. The reek of bleach filled her nostrils. “He was bleaching sheets in here. They never made it to the dryer.”

"Son of a bitch,” Pono said. “He was cleaning up from the last one.”

Lei’s phone felt slick in her sweaty hand as she tried Katie's number again.Nothing.Her heart hammered against her ribs. "We need to get out to Helen's place.Now."

They ran through the house and headed for the truck. Pono grabbed the radio as Lei threw the Tacoma into reverse, gravel spraying as they turned onto the feeder road.

"Dispatch, we’re en route to join McHenry on that 10-70.” Pono kept his voice steady. "Suspect's residence is empty. Send more units to meet us at the address.”

“Already en route, Detective.”

The truck's engine roared as they peeled out and careened through the quiet neighborhood onto the highway. Lei's knuckles were white on the steering wheel as they raced toward the Pali.

Her mind’s eye kept seeing those buckets, smelling that bleach. The methodical organization of it all chilled her more than chaos would have. Please, let us get there in time.

“Amen,” Pono said.

Lei had spoken aloud.

42

KATIE

The Steinbrenner house'sair-conditioning hit Katie’s face in a cool wave as she entered the front door. A thump and a muffled cry from upstairs sent ice through her veins. Moving on the balls of her feet, Katie hurried up the curved staircase, keeping close to the wall where the steps were less likely to creak.

Near the top landing, her boot caught a decorative vase. Time slowed as the vase, filled with bamboo, toppled with a crash and a clatter, scattering the decorative rods over the hardwood floor.

“Crap!” Katie hissed, crouching against the wall around the corner from the hall, her weapon at the ready. The element of surprise was blown. “Maui Police Department!” She bellowed. “Drop your weapon and come out with your hands up!”

A door down the hall slammed open. Heavy footsteps thundered toward her.

Her warning wasn’t deterring this monster.

Wilkinson emerged at the top of the stairs, theleiomano'sshark teeth in his hand catching the light, his face savage and black. His appearance was so different from the long-haired figure in the photos or the tech guy in his driver’s license that Katie’s finger froze on the trigger as he hurtled toward her. He lunged, swinging the terrifying club—and she fired, but missed as he knocked the gun out of her hand. Theleiomanoswept past her face and she ducked, the shark teeth grazing her cheek.

Katie rallied, slamming her shoulder into the large man’s midsection, using his momentum and weight against him to throw him over her shoulder toward the stairs—but he grabbed her around the waist and took her with him as he went.

They crashed down the stairs together, a blur of noise and pain and grunts and lost breath. Katie managed to roll free and stop herself midway, but Mu tumbled all the way to the bottom. He staggered up quickly as theleiomanoclattered across the floor.

This man was big, fast, and stronger than she’d anticipated. The fearsome black scowl that had so startled her turned out to be a mask, which had been knocked off in the struggle.

Katie didn't give Wilkinson the chance to regroup. She launched herself off the stairs in a flying tackle and knocked him down, driving her knee into his back. Even with her full weight, it was like trying to wrestle a bear as she pulled his arms back. But she'd trained for this, practiced these moves until they were muscle memory. "Police! Don't move!"

She dug in her back pocket for her cuffs with her free hand as she pressed down, keeping her knee in his spine. Mu bucked, but she got the cuffs clicked shut around his wrists. Only then did Katie allow herself to feel the trembling in her arms, the many bruises from the stairs, the burning scratch on her cheek, and the hammering of her heart.

"Bill Wilkinson," she said, breathing hard, "you're under arrest." She recited his Miranda rights, spitting each word at the back of the man’s sweating bald head.

From upstairs, Helen's muffled cries increased; she didn’t want to be forgotten. “I’m coming, Helen!” Wilkinson was down; she had him under control. Katie reached for her belt radio to call for backup, lifting her knee off the man’s back.

But when Katie eased up to reach for her radio, Mu bucked hard, rising onto his knees, and knocked Katie off-balance. He stood with a leap, and a sweep of his powerful legs sent her crashing down; the radio skittered across the floor. In one fluid and unexpected motion, he slipped his bound hands under his legs, and brought them in front.

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