“I’ll use him,” Sophie decided, the words tasting like compromise in her mouth.“Connor’s operative, I mean.As long as I know that this person answers to me, not to the Master of the Yam Khûmk?n.”
They spent another forty minutes processing the scene, documenting every detail of the King’s Suite with meticulous care.
Pierre examined the windows with their original wavy glass, checking for signs of entry.Marcus dusted for prints on every surface that might have been touched, though they all knew it was likely futile.Whoever they were dealing with was too professional to leave such obvious traces.
Sophie used her specialized equipment to scan for electronic signatures, finding the same sophisticated loops in the security footage that had marked the other scenes.A digital ghost had been here too, dancing through walls as easily as the nineteenth-centuryali‘ihad once danced with political alliances.
By the time they finished, the late morning sun had transformed the palace grounds into a tourist mecca.Sophie watched from the window as buses disgorged their passengers—families with children posing by the Kamehameha Statue, its bronze surface gleaming in the sun; couples taking selfies on the palace’s distinctive stairs, the same steps where Marines had once stood guard over a deposed queen; elderly visitors moving slowly through the gardens, stopping to smell the plumeria trees whose flowers fell like blessings on the grass.
All of them were oblivious to the darker currents flowing beneath the surface of paradise.Sophie envied their ignorance.
“We should check the third location,” Marcus said, securing his evidence kit with efficient movements.“I’d like to get your opinion on the private collector’s home, see if there’s any pattern to the physical locations.”
“Geographic pattern,” Sophie said, though her mind was already racing ahead to other patterns: digital footprints, personality signatures, possible psychological profiles of someone who left plumeria at crime scenes.“And I’m curious to see if the perpetrators follow our movements there, as well.”
She couldn’t suppress the chill that touched the back of her neck, a cold kiss.
Someone was watching them.
4
SOPHIE
The third thefthad been from a private collector’s home in Kahala, one of Honolulu’s most exclusive neighborhoods.Sophie knew the area well—she’d investigated cases there before, always struck by how much wealth could exist just miles from where local families struggled to afford even basic housing.
The drive took them along the coast, around and past Diamond Head’s distinctive profile.Sophie found herself checking the rearview mirror more than usual, looking for surveillance on their tail.From the back seat, Pierre was doing the same.They caught each other’s eyes in the mirror.
Pierre’s mouth twitched in his almost smile, and he leaned in to address her when Marcus took a phone call on his Bluetooth.“I missed a lot while I was away in Europe.Tell me about Connor’s departure.If you don’t mind my asking.”
Sophie kept her eyes on the passing scenery—surfers catching morning waves, joggers on the roadside path, people working in tropical yards, mynahs fluttering out of the way of their tires.Normal life continued alongside and around them.
“Connor got restless,” she said finally.“We fought about his desire to leave for weeks, before things came to a head when there was an attempted coup of his position as Master of the Yam Khûmk?n.He left for Thailand then, citing ‘urgent matters’ that he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain.I told him he had to choose—his duty to the Yam Khûmk?n, or his life with us.”
“So he chose duty.”
Sophie nodded.“He said it was temporary, just until he could stabilize things there.But temporary became a month, then two, then six.”Sophie’s chuckle was bitter.“I’m an expert at losing men.At least this time no one died.”
“It does seem you’ve had more than your share of loss.As have I.”Pierre was quiet for a moment.Pierre had lost his wife and daughter in a horrific way.He knew about grief, about the spaces people left behind, about living with scars.“Even so, not all deaths are of the body.”
Sophie met his gaze; her eyes stung as she glanced away.“I’m sorry.Here I am complaining when you?—”
“It isn’t a competition, Sophie.Your loss is real, even if Connor still walks the earth.”
Marcus swore as he ended his call.“We’ve got a problem.The Kahala collector just called 911—someone tried to break into his house again.He scared them off, but they left something behind.”
Sophie’s stomach tightened reflexively.“Let me guess—a plumeria?”
“You got it.He’s freaking out, wants us there, ASAP.”
* * *
The collector’shouse was a sprawling modern mansion, all clean angles and shining glass, set on a rise with ocean views.They pulled into a large turnaround planned around a copper statuary fountain that created melodic water sounds.
A silver-haired mixed-race man in his sixties, radiating nervous energy, met them at the immense glass double doors leading into his home.“Thank God you’re here.After what happened to my collection already, I’ve been paranoid.Good thing, too, or they might have taken another piece.”
“Show us where they tried to enter,” Sophie said.
“Let’s go inside.”
