Page 4 of Wired Fear

Akane had friends who owed him. Side hustles no one knew anything about. And if Terence didn’t step up to take Byron’s place, there was a very good chance Akane would come out of left field, waste anyone who offered competition, and bring on a reign of blood like the Changs hadn’t been through since the thirties, when they’d warred with the Chinese triads for power and come out on top.

The phone rang on the step beside him, and his dogs looked up, pricking their ears. Terence read the ID window:Hilo PD.“Terence Chang here.”

Nowhere to hide. No point in trying.

“This is Detective Freitan from Hilo PD. Your cousin’s crime scene has been released. I suggest you contact a cleaning service that specializes in biohazard cleanup and blood removal before you go back onto the premises.”

Freitan was a badass mofo of a female detective. His balls crawled for cover whenever he had the misfortune of dealing with her.“Thanks for the call, Detective. What can you tell me about efforts to capture my deranged murderer cousin?”No sense glossing over the truth.

“Not my case, Mr. Chang. His capture is an FBI matter. I’m sure someone will be in touch with you soon to find out possible locations where your dear family member might hide.” Freitan sounded hard, flippant.

Terence took another sip of coffee to wet his throat. “I appreciate any support Hilo PD can give me in capturing Akane. Believe me when I tell you, we don’t want him around here.”

“I heard you were going straight, Chang. But you sound like you’re speaking for the family on this matter.” Freitan’s tone was serious.

“I’m speaking for the family on this, yes.” Time to “shit or get off the pot,” as his beloved but terrifyingtutu, Healani, had always said. It couldn’t hurt to establish his authority with the local PD early on.

“Your concern about Akane’s capture is noted,” Freitan replied. “I’ll let the FBI know that you are their official point of contact.”

“You do that.” Terence ended the call with a punch of his thumb.

He had a lot of arrangements to make, starting with getting in cleaners to remove all trace of the carnage of Byron’s murder. He needed to get the downtown warehouse space ready for a big meeting, and there was no time to waste.

Terence went back into the house, already working his phone. The dogs trailed him as he walked through the redone living room with its spare, modern décor.

He wasn’t going to get the girl or the life he’d hoped for. But he had inherited the office that had been Byron’s, and his father’s, and his grandfather’s—and maybe, just maybe, he could eventually steer the Chang empire in a different direction.

First, he had to step up and take over, and even that wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter Four

Jake trailed Ando Bautista, the coverall-clad site manager, through the Edith Kanaka`ole Tennis Stadium where the Merrie Monarch Festival was scheduled to be held. Kim had brought him to the multipurpose convex building after their initial meeting and had taken him straight to the property manager’s office. They’d run into several people associated with the Festival there, including the event manager, Ilima Cruz, a majestic Hawaiian woman with considerable presence. Kim had introduced Jake as a “security expert hired by the Tourism Authority Board to make sure the auditorium met safety standards.”

So far, that cover was working. Bautista, a grizzled Filipino of unknown age, had whisked him off to tour the building. Enjoying a chance to talk about his passion, Bautista waxed expansive about his years at the building and the various challenges to setting up events. His pidgin was so thick Jake had to strain to understand.

“Back in the day when the Merrie Monarch first came heah, was small kine. We built a stage with volunteers. Now, the event so big, we gotta build plenty seating to hold ’em all, and it sell out right away. If we had one bigger place in Hilo, we would fill that too.”

Jake paused, hands on hips, surveying the dim, cavernous area, its interior floodlights off. He perused the well-marked tennis court in the center. “I’ve seen video. This place gets packed. I’m not concerned just with the structural safety aspects; in fact, I’m less worried about that. I’m here mostly for personal safety and crime prevention. Can you tell me about any incidents that might have happened over the years?”

“Oh, we get plenny support from the Hilo PD. Off-duty officers direct traffic, provide security. No worries there.” Bautista gestured. “Only place get small kinepilikiawas the bat’rooms. Come see.”

“Pilikia. I keep hearing that word.”

“Trouble,” Bautista said. “Some folks, they like fo’ drink or use drugs in the bat’rooms. We get one camera over the door for the event in case we need fo’ see who went in or out. If we get funding for it, one police officer stands outside, too.”

Jake leaped on this opportunity to explore the situation that had triggered the case. “Funding? I heard things are tight this year.” He touched Bautista’s arm, deciding to take a chance on the voluble little man. “Don’t say anything, but part of why I was hired was to check into what’s been happening with this year’s Festival money.”

“You know, I’m just the building manager. I nevah know notting,” Bautista said loudly. He glanced back and forth theatrically, then gestured for Jake to follow. Over near a row of closed garbage receptacles, the building manager leaned close. “I been hearing those guys running the marketing and ads been helping themselves to some of the budget supposed to go to the Festival. My cuz, she one cleaner at the office. She wen’ tell me she think something smell funny cuz never been no ads this year like in the past. Usually the trash cans, they full of all the lists and sketches. This year, hardly notting. Only one big sign near the airport, where everyone going see ’em.”

“Thanks, Mr. Bautista.” Jake noted the agency’s name and took another chance and slipped a rolled fifty-dollar bill into the man’s hand, along with his card. “You are helping the Festival by helping me. Anything else you come across, give me a call.”

“I do dat.” Bautista nodded, slipping his hand into the pocket of his coveralls.

Jake returned to the building’s main office and glanced at the wall clock over the property manager’s desk. Almost five p.m., and the place would soon close. He glanced around. “Is Ms. Cruz still available?”

“No, she had just stopped by to check in on some Festival business,” the clerk manning the phones said. “But she leaves a number with us in case of need.” The girl provided that to Jake.

Jake was already dialing as he headed through the building toward the white Security Solutions SUV, currently in ‘stealth mode,’ the magnetic signage touting their services that could be put up on the doors stowed in the vehicle’s storage area. “Ms. Cruz? This is Jake Dunn with Security Solutions. We met briefly at the stadium. Can I get a meeting with you to discuss the security planning for the event?”

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