Page 62 of Deadly Sacrifice

Her stomach tightened. “Check it, Pono.”

“Damn,” her partner hissed. He let out a low whistle, his eyes fixed on the display. “This guy’s got a whole armory.”

The pieces were replicas—but the resemblance to the murder weapons was too close to be coincidence. They were meticulously arranged on the wall as if part of a private museum. Some of them were worn and authentic-looking, others clearly modern recreations.

“Whoever chose these pieces knew their significance,” Lei said as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the weapons. One of the clubs—ala‘au palau—looked almost identical to the one used to kill David Steinbrenner. A flash of what she’d seen in the video made her skin crawl.

“We’ve got murder weapons,” Lei said under her breath. “Or at least, replicas of them.” She pointed. “Look. Three open spaces where weapons are missing.”

“Yup.”

The weapons cache and its missing spaces weren’t enough to prove Mank was the killer, but they were enough to tie him to the murders. And if he wasn’t the one swinging the club, then he likely knew who had.

Lei pulled out her phone again, her voice steady as she called Dispatch. “This is Sergeant Texeira. I need a BOLO put out on Ronald Mank, aka Roger Nettle, aka “Kahuna.” He may be armed and dangerous. I also need TG and the crime scene team over at his address, ASAP.”

Lei turned to Pono, who was still eyeing the weapons with a grim expression. This wall contained the most damning evidence they’d found so far, but there had to be something more in the house. DNA trace, a trophy from the bodies, something hard putting Mank at the crime scenes.

“What do you think?” Lei asked Pono. “Is he running, or hiding? Or is he dead somewhere, waiting for us to find him?”

“Don’t think he’s dead, or another weapon would be missing from the wall,” Pono said.

Lei nodded as she spun through the possibilities. Mank must have known the police were closing in. Maybe he’d fled before they could pin him down. Or maybe he was biding his time, watching from the shadows for a chance to escape the island.

“We need to find him, and we need something hard to put him with the bodies,” Lei said. “Call the Captain and update her. I’ll get started with the search.”

Pono took out his phone. As he relayed the details, Lei walked to the bedroom, her eyes scanning every corner, every surface. But even as she searched, her thoughts were on the shark-tooth club, the spear, the stone-headed club.

That weapons collection pointed to someone with a knowledge of Hawaiian history and culture. But nothing in what Katie had dug up suggested Mank was actually an expert in Hawaiiana; he’d moved around a lot before coming to the Islands and his cover as “Kahuna” was flimsy.

Lei’s jaw clenched as she methodically tossed the bedroom, flipping the mattress. She pulled open the drawers of the bedside table and rifled through them. Nothing of interest—a porn mag, dirty socks, and a few clothes. She eyed empty, dangling hangers and a space on the shelf above that looked like something the size of a suitcase had rested there.

“Looks like he packed a bag, Pono,” she called.

She glanced at her partner, who returned to her side as he finished his call. “The airport’s on lockdown for this guy. Captain’s updated. TG will be here shortly to help us process the house and weapons.”

Lei nodded. “Good. But I worry Mank’s off-island already. We’re going to need to establish a timeline for when he was last seen. And if he’s got two identities, he might have more—and be long gone.”

“Yeah.” Pono rubbed his mustache briskly. “What next?”

“Divide and conquer. You take the living room and kitchen. I’ll do the two bedrooms and bathroom. We’ll sic TG on the weapons collection and gathering trace on the display wall as soon as he gets here.”

Mank was out there, and whether he was the mastermind or the next victim, Lei wasn’t going to let him slip through her fingers.

37

LEI

Hours later,hot, sweaty, and annoyed, Lei flopped into the driver’s seat of her truck. She grabbed a water bottle she’d wisely bought at the Minit Stop when they picked up coffee and hard-boiled eggs earlier. Both had been tempted by the sight and smell of fresh Spam musubi under a heat lamp but had helped each other resist temptation.

Now she wished she’d given in.

Lei gulped down half the water bottle in one go, but the cool liquid sliding down her throat did nothing to ease the heat of irritation simmering under her skin. The morning had dragged into the afternoon—and they were no closer to finding Ronald Mank—or whatever name he was going by now.

She glanced at Pono, who was leaning against the passenger door, staring out the window at nothing in particular, his own bottle of water dangling from his fingers. “You think we’ll ever see that bastard again?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

Lei sighed, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of a forearm. “We’ve got the airport on lockdown. We’ve got people watching the docks and boat traffic. If Mank tries to leave the island, we’ll find him. But . . .” She trailed off, staring at the modest house they’d just spent hours tearing apart. The evidence they’d found was circumstantial, but not enough to convict Mank of anything.

The weapons collection had been their best find. Too similar to the murder weapons to be coincidence. But the fingerprints TG had managed to lift from the displayed items and wall were smudged and incomplete. Nothing else in the house stood out as a smoking gun. Hair samples and DNA had been gathered, but it would take time to run them through forensics.

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