“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Agent Oscar Rodriguez yelled across the room. Everyone looked up from their computers, where we’d all been buried in case files and information looking for any connection between Gudziak and some guy with a neck tattoo of a dollar sign. Oscar, who had his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone, said to the suddenly quiet room. “Got him!”
I stood and trotted over to Oscar’s desk, as did Brice, Dutch, Candice, and Grayson. “Who is he?” Dutch asked.
“Kaapo Hekekia,” Oscar said, swiveling his computer screen so that we could see the man.
As I stared into the eyes of a seriously mean-looking individual, Grayson said, “Wixom said he thought Gudziak called the other guy Cap or Cappy.”
Oscar, wearing a look of triumph, said, “Kaapo is a Hawaiian native. Moved here in two thousand six. He’s been in and out of jail since then for everything from possession to human trafficking. For his last stint he was shipped out of state to Phoenix, where he served eight months of a nickel sentence for the latter.”
“That’s where he met Gudziak,” I said.
“Yep,” Oscar said. “The two were in the system at the same time.”
“I don’t see the dollar sign tattoo,” Grayson said, pointing to the mug shot on the screen.
“That’s new,” Oscar said, with a smug knowing smile. Pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tribal tattoo, he added, “Turns out, me and Kaapo share the same tattoo artist, Chris Ellis, from Badass Tattoos. Chris is the best artist in Austin, a favorite of a lot of gang members.”
“And you go to this guy?” I asked.
Oscar smiled. “Chris doesn’t know I’m a Fed. He thinks I’m a reporter for the Statesman.”
“You get away with a lie like that?” I asked.
Oscar bounced his eyebrows. “It’s not like Chris reads the paper, Cooper. He’s too busy sleeping, drinking, chasing girls, and working. Anyway, I called him and told him that I sat next to a guy at a bar who looked like he was from the islands, and he had a dollar sign tattoo on his neck that I thought looked like Chris’s work. I also told him that if he had done the work, I’d want to interview his customer for a piece I’m doing in the Statesman. Chris remembered the guy right away and told me his name is Kaapo something—he couldn’t remember the last name. He said that he and Kaapo talked a lot about Oahu while Chris worked on him, and the tattoo is actually a two-headed dragon, snaked into the shape of a dollar sign. Anyway, I did a first-name search in the system and found Hekekia right away.”
“So that’s our man,” Dutch said beside me. “He lives here, Oscar?”
Oscar tore off a piece of paper with some numbers written on it. “This is his last known address.”
Dutch put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Good work, buddy.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
Dutch and Brice moved away from me. In fact, everyone seemed to be in motion at once. “What’s happening?” I asked, still standing by Oscar, who had gotten up out of his chair and was reaching into his desk to retrieve his gun.
“We go get the son of a bitch, Cooper,” he said.
“Oh,” I replied. “Okay.” But then I didn’t exactly know what to do. I mean, it’s not like I carry my gun around in my purse. (It’s at home, locked in a box under my bed, if you must know.)
“This is my collar!” Grayson said loudly when Dutch and Brice appeared from their offices, donning Kevlar vests and guns.
“Of course it’s your collar,” Brice assured her. “We’re just backing you up.”
Grayson nodded, but she still looked troubled. I had a feeling that protocol dictated that she call in the address and request her own backup, but everyone knew that the minute she did that, she’d be pulled back from the scene and made to take orders from someone else. “We’ll need a warrant,” Grayson said, looking a little defeated as she spoke the words.
“Yes,” Brice said. “And if you call in for one, it won’t be your collar anymore.”
Grayson eyed Brice shrewdly. “What would you suggest?” she asked him.
“Let me call in for the warrant. Gudziak and Hekekia’s crime spree has now crossed state lines, which makes for a great case for this to be our jurisdiction. I’ll give you all the credit for the collar, though, if you’d prefer.”
Grayson’s mouth quirked into a crooked smile. “Okay, Special Agent Harrison. Have it your way.”
“Good,” Brice told her. “Good.”
• • •
Candice and I sat in the van and watched on a digital monitor as our husbands, our friends, and Detective Grayson descended on a shabby-looking house south of downtown. They made quick work of surrounding the house, and Oscar and Dutch were the first two through the door.
Even though I’d checked the ether all the way over to Hekekia’s place to make sure nothing bad would happen to any of the people I cared about, I still braced and held my breath as they went through the door.
For a long series of tense moments we couldn’t tell what was happening. No sound came back to us, so we didn’t know if they’d found the two men, or if the house was empty, but soon every single agent had filed into the home and was helping in the search.
I glanced at Candice and she appeared as tense as I was. “What do you think is going on?” I asked.
She shook her head, but then, all of a sudden, her hand grabbed onto mine, and with the other she pointed to the screen. From the corner of the screen where she was pointing, I saw a figure dart out of a doorway from the house next door and dash across the porch, followed by another larger figure.
Before I could even connect the dots, I realized that either Oscar had written the address down wrong, or Hekekia had given a false address, because our two suspects were right now flying away from the scene.
Candice was in motion well before I was. She flew to the back of the van, flung open the doors, and launched herself out onto the street. The image of the Roswells’ bloody bodies bloomed horrifyingly in my mind, and all I could think was how dangerous it was for Candice to go after those two giant, violent men alone. “Hey!” I shouted, chasing after her. “Stop! Candice, stop!” But she wasn’t listening, because she kept going as fast as those long legs of hers could carry her.
“Goddammit!” I yelled, hitting the street and giving chase. “Dutch!” I screamed, flying past the house where the boys had entered. “DUTCH!”
I had no idea if he heard me, but I couldn’t let Candice go after Gudziak and Hekekia by herself, so I kept going.
As did she.
As did they.
Candice and I gained easily on the men—which just goes to show you the power of the workouts that my BFF puts us through. Within fifty yards she caught up to Hekekia, but he must’ve heard her coming, because he swiveled midstride and drew a giant gun from his waistband, taking aim right at her face.
If I haven’t mentioned it before (or enough times), let me state that Candice has the reflexes of a cat. Or maybe a ninja. Or if a cat could become a ninja, she’d have those reflexes.
Just as Hekekia’s gun came level with her face, Candice’s arm whipped up, swatting the gun out of his hand as the gun went off! I heard the bullet ricochet off the pavement right next to me and felt the spatter of gravel against my pant leg.
When I looked up again, I saw Hekekia bring his other fist around, but his aim was off and it landed on Candice’s shoulder. The blow spun her around hard and made her stumble. Unable to regain her footing, she went down.
Watching the big Hawaiian shoot and strike at my friend triggered an outraged response from me. With a bloodcurdling war cry I quickened my steps, hurdling over Candice’s rolling body, and launched myself at him, leaping onto his back and wrapping my legs around his torso. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed. “You son of a stinking, ugly, bat-faced bitch!”
No disrespect to Hekekia’s actual mother, w
ho I’m sure is simply a lovely woman, but I may have been a little hyped up on adrenaline when I tackled him. Also, I was scared enough to wet myself, and yelling obscenities and insults helps overcome the pee-my-pants impulse when I’m afraid.
For his part, Hekekia didn’t seem quite so terrified. He reached up over the top of his head to try to grab my shirt and pull me off him, but his hands were slick with sweat and he fumbled the hold. Meanwhile I had him gripped so tight with my legs, I was definitely restricting his airflow, but that position also allowed me to beat him with my fists and scratch him with my nails. “I will shiv you!” I screamed, pounding on him for all I was worth. Forget the fact that I wasn’t packing a knife—the crazy talk was giving me much-needed courage. Like I said, despite my rabid attack on the man, I was scared shitless of him.
Pummel!
Punch!
Scratch-scratch-scratch!
“I will shiv you and gut you like a fish, you worthless trout!”
Punch! Punch! Punch!
Meanwhile, Hekekia’s own hands were slapping at me, and by now he’d stumbled to a not-so-stable walk. Unable to fill his lungs with air, he was sweating profusely and gasping for air. “Get . . . the fuck . . . off me!”
I renewed my efforts to beat him senseless. “Go fuck yourself!” I roared while I beat and scratched and pulled hard on his ears. He swatted at me, and it hurt, so I grabbed his nose and pulled it to the side. He cried out in pain, but I didn’t let up. Instead, I took a new tactic: I went for the fucker’s eyes. Like, I literally went all Game of Thrones on his ass and tried to jab my fingers into his eyes—I was so angry and hyped up on adrenaline.
Hekekia came to a full stop, needing to shield his eyes from my assault with one arm, and I saw him ball his other hand into a fist right before he sent it up toward my face. I leaned hard to the side to duck the blow and it threw him way off-balance. We both went down.
My left leg and hip took the brunt of the blow, which hurt like you cannot believe, but I clenched my jaw, sucked it up, and kept attacking. No way in hell was I giving up until one of us was dead. Preferably him.
And then I heard someone yell, “Freeze, motherfucker!” and Hekekia and I both went perfectly still.
Panting, shaking, and still gripping a fistful of the man’s long black hair, I looked over to see Candice planted at my side with the barrel of the Hawaiian’s gun kissing his temple. She looked mad enough to pull the trigger too, which, I will admit, in that moment, I badly wanted her to do.
I don’t know how she held back, but she did, and she motioned for me to release my death grip on the man’s torso and move away from him.
But suddenly, I didn’t know if I could. It was as if all the adrenaline and energy evaporated from me in the blink of an eye, and I sagged to the ground, gasping for air.
Then there was a sudden pounding of footsteps behind me, and strong arms hooked under my armpits to pull me away from the Hawaiian. “Jesus . . . Christ!” Dutch panted, after he’d freed me. “What the hell . . . were you thinking, Edgar?!”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He simply scooped me up, held me tight to his Kevlar vest, and walked away. I was never more glad for his presence in my life, and I clung to him out of both pain and exhaustion. I’d fractured my pelvis a couple of years before, and that fall with Hekekia really rattled the six pins I’ve got lodged in my pelvic bone.
“Hey,” Dutch whispered when his labored breathing had normalized. “Edgar, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”
Belatedly I realized tears were leaking out of my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. “I’m not crying,” I whimpered.
“Of course you’re not,” he said, a smile in his tone. “You took a pretty good fall there, though. You okay?”
“N-n-n-no,” I blubbered. “It hurt!”
“I’ll bet,” he said, coming to a stop next to the van.
“That son of a bitch!” I wailed, burying my face in Dutch’s chest. “I thought he was going to kill Candice!”
Dutch stroked my hair and kissed my cheek. “And here I thought he was going to kill you.”
I took a deep breath, collecting my emotions. “Nah,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I had him right where I wanted him.”
Dutch chuckled and kissed my cheek again. “Sure you did, dollface. Sure you did.”
“Is she okay?” I heard Brice say. He sounded winded too.
I squinted up at him. “I’m fine. Just spent. And a little bruised.”
Brice wiped his brow. He looked at me with wide, somewhat crazed eyes. I’d never seen him look like that. “Do you need a ride to the hospital?” he asked me.
My brow furrowed. “No. Do I look like I need a ride to the hospital?”
“Maybe the mental ward,” he snapped.
“Hey,” Dutch said quietly. “Brice. Easy.”
But Brice was too wound up to listen. “What the fuck were you and Candice thinking, Cooper?!” he shouted.
I glared at him. I don’t much take to being yelled at. “Oh, I’m sorry, Special Agent Harrison. Did our collar of your suspect perhaps make a dent in your manhood? Well, sorry, not sorry!”
“Hey!” Candice yelled behind Brice. “What’s the matter?”
Brice glared at me but rounded on her. “What were you thinking?”
Candice smiled at him, cool as a cucumber. “I wasn’t, sweetheart. I saw the bastards make a run for it and I reacted. It was pure instinct.”
Brice breathed loudly in and out of his nose for a moment, his face crimson and the vein near his temple throbbing. And then he opened his arms wide and reached for his wife, pulling her to him in a crushing embrace.
I rolled my eyes and looked at Dutch. He shrugged and said, “We saw Hekekia draw on Candice, and from our view, it looked like he’d shot her. When she went down, we thought he’d killed her.”
“Ah,” I said, all the anger I’d had toward Brice evaporating. “Okay. Well, then his attitude is understandable.”
“Yeah, but your actions aren’t so much,” he said, cupping my face and forcing me to look at him. “Don’t ever do anything so recklessly stupid again, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “I won’t. I promise.”
Dutch held my gaze. “I feel like that’s not a promise you’ll be able to keep.”
“It’s like you know me.”
He pulled me to him again and held me close. “I guess you missed the fact that Kaapo had a knife strapped to his belt, huh?”
“He did?”
“Yep. We all saw him trying to grab for it while you were riding him like some whacked-out rodeo cowboy, but then you started gouging him in the eyes and he abandoned the effort. I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life.”
“Yeah, well, it’s probably a good thing that Candice got to us first.”
“It is,” Dutch said. I glanced up at him and saw him staring over my shoulder. When I looked, I saw him and Candice smiling at each other.
• • •
Several minutes later, while Dutch and Brice were searching Hekekia’s house for evidence and any trace of Dave and Gwen, Candice and I, standing outside by the van, saw Agent Rodriguez and Detective Grayson come around the corner with Gudziak in cuffs between them. Oscar and Nikki appeared winded, but Gudziak looked barely able to walk. He was stumbling and coughing and nearly unable to keep moving forward. “You got him!” I called as they approached.
Nikki pushed Gudziak hard, a big old smile on her face. “We did,” she said. “Mostly thanks to you.”
They stopped in front of us, and we waited for them to bend Gudziak over the back of one of the sedans parked on the street, and while Oscar patted Gudziak down for weapons (he had several), Grayson talked about the capture.
“The idiot’s gun jammed,” Grayson said, a huge smile on her face. “He drew it and tried to fire on us, but not
hing came out. He got so mad he threw it at us, and then he ran face-first right into a light post!”
Candice and I laughed as we imagined the scene, but Grayson laughed the hardest, having witnessed it firsthand. Oscar was chuckling pretty hard too. The only one not laughing was Gudziak. He was still a bit wobbly on his feet, and truth be told, he looked slightly disoriented. “My chest hurts!” he squawked.
At first, none of us paid him any attention—we were too busy laughing at Grayson while she pantomimed Gudziak kissing the light post—but when the fugitive said it again even more urgently, my Spidey sense went off with a sudden alarm bell.
Turning away from Grayson to focus my radar on Gudziak, I immediately knew he wasn’t kidding around. The energy of a heart under duress is quite distinct. I can pick out high blood pressure in a person easily. It’s a distressing condition; the pressure of the blood coursing through someone’s cardiovascular system sends out a sort of pulse. A throbbing, if you will. I could feel this throbbing energy from Gudziak, but it was super intense.
Lifting up a hand, I shouted, “Hold on!”
Nikki stopped midsentence. “What’s the matter?”
I pointed to Gudziak. “He’s having a heart attack.”
She looked over at him. “Aw, he’s all right, Abby. He’s probably just faking.”
Candice, however, knew me well enough to know that I was picking up on an intuitive feeling, and not going by Gudziak’s word. “Oscar!” she said urgently. “Lay him on the ground!”
Oscar stood up from the squat he’d been holding as he made sure to clear Gudziak’s legs of weapons, and he looked at us quizzically. “Say what?”
Before we could explain, Gudziak’s knees gave out from underneath him and he sank to the ground. “Call for an ambulance!” I yelled, rushing to the killer’s side. I wasn’t concerned for him in the slightest, in case you’re wondering, but I was very worried for Dave and Gwen.
Minutes earlier, Dutch and Brice had done a quick search of the house that the two felons had come out of, and there was no sign of our two friends. Brice had tried to get Kaapo to talk, but he’d completely clammed up, yelling, “Lawyer!” as he was put into the back of Agent Cox’s car.