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Pulling out another paper from his folder, he shows the picture to him. “You recently purchased a rather large property on Maui. This morning’s photographs show it all cleared, and the dirt dug up. Tell me, when I send my men there, are we going to find any human remains?”
“I checked with the ancestral board before I bought the property. It’s not a sacred spot, so you shouldn’t find a burial ground there. But,” he grabs the picture and looks at it closer, “it seems your visit this morning’s not entirely unproductive. You’ve saved me a call to my foreman. We’re starting construction on a new orphanage. Progress appears right on schedule.” He holds the paper out. “If you had read my permits, you would know that.”
“Your outfit from last night. Where is it?”
“Getting cleaned. I spilt some wine on it.”
“Which dry cleaner?”
“I don’t trivialize myself with such details. My staff took it.”
“I’d like to question that staff member.” He flashes the warrant again.
“He’s out getting breakfast. But, I highly doubt he dropped it off himself. Probably passed the job on to someone else.”
“And your shoes?”
Damien opens the entrance closet, revealing row upon row of dress shoes. “Afraid I cannot remember which pair I wore.”
Riviera rubs the bridge between his eyebrows. “Do you enjoy making my life difficult?”
“There has to be some bonus for my troubles. Now, if there’s nothing else,” he reaches for the elevator button, but the door opens first, a team of cops wearing latex gloves step into the condo.
“Ah, but there is,” Riviera flashes the warrant once more, “we’ll be searching the entire condo.” He glances at one of the women. “Bag all of the shoes.”
One of the men tries the door to the west wing. “Sir?”
“Unlock it.”
Damien holds his hands out. “That’s just staff quarters. But if you insist.” He presses a few buttons on the keypad. The door clicks before Damien pulls it open.
I hold my breath. But, even from the entranceway, I can tell the entire wing has been scrubbed clean. No drugs. No busy workers.
A few men go to enter, but Damien grabs a small box from inside his shoe closet, holding his hand up. “I’m afraid I must insist you all wear booties. I don’t like dirt being tracked into my home. Now,” Velasquez takes that moment to stroll through the open door, “this is one of my best men. I’m sure he can answer any more of your questions. If you are done, I am taking my girlfriend out to breakfast.”
“I thought you had food coming?”
“You can eat it. I prefer to eat my meals in peace. Kalena,” I jump at my name, “shoes?”
I nod, rushing back to my room. People swarm everywhere. Spraying some weird chemical, taking photographs, rubbing little cotton swabs over every surface, and stuffing it in bags. I pick up my purse, grab a pair of shoes from my closet, and hurry back to the main room.
“Don’t leave the island,” Riviera calls after us as I enter the elevator beside Damien.
He raises his hand. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Chapter Seven
TWO MONTHS LATER
I take another swig of Sunny D mixed with whiskey, straight from the juice container. I cringe, my throat burning. It’s mostly whiskey now. I’ve probably already peed the orange juice out three times already.
The timer on my phone beeps. Instinctively, my heart races. Closing my eyes, I try to calm my nerves with a few breaths. It doesn’t help. Reaching my shaking hand out I grab the small stick, then open my eyes.
A plus sign.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a few more breaths. When I open them, the very-clear, blue, positive symbol stares back at me. On the counter lay four more sticks, each with two lines or another plus sign. One even contains a single word: ‘pregnant.’
I take another long drink.
