Hello again and sorry for the longer than usual wait. Let's just dive into the next chapter.
Driving through the half-empty streets of Honolulu, Danny couldn't take his mind off the idea that Lynn might have been involved. It didn't make any sense. He'd known her. She was a good person. There was no way she could've been so angry at Steve for breaking up with her that she would plot against him like this. Yet the whole picture suggested otherwise.
He realized he'd completely forgotten about calling Rachel when his phone rang. With a quick tap, he accepted the call and stopped at the junction, waiting for the light to turn green.
"Danny, what's going on? Where have you been?"
Danny had no desire to explain that on the phone. "Long story," he said. "Are you guys all right?"
"Yes. But I… I think you should come over. We need to talk." There was something about her voice Danny couldn't quite place.
"I'm on my way. I just wanted to make a quick stop at Steve's and pick up some clothes and stuff for Jamba. Are you sure you're all right? I can come over straight away," he said, eyeing the junction, preparing to make an unexpected turn left.
"No, it can wait," Rachel said. "Just come over here when you can, okay?"
"I'll be there in half an hour tops."
"Okay."
Danny ended the call with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't exactly put a finger on what was that about, but he sensed it might be yet another problem and he should better hurry up. But Steve hadn't prepared Jamba for more than a quick overnight stay and the way things looked right now, it seemed the kid would need some clean clothes and maybe a little something to remind him of home.
Just a few steps into a way too quiet house, he found that something on the shelf, right next to the framed photo of Steve and Jamba on the beach. Hoping it will make Jamba feel a little better, he took it. He turned to walk upstairs, but his eyes fell on the framed photo once again.
He allowed himself a smile.
He remembered that day as if it was yesterday. It was Grace who had taken the photo of them building a sandcastle in the wet sand together. Steve's goofy smile captured the mood just perfectly, and a spark of mischief in Jamba's eyes would make one think he had never been put through hell. The way they looked at each other almost melted Danny's heart. Grace couldn't have captured it any better.
They looked happy together. As if everything was right in the world.
With one more look at the photo, Danny swore to himself he'd make things right again, no matter what.
It didn't take long before he found Jamba's navy blue backpack with dinosaur skeletons all-over print and packed it up fully.
He arrived at the safehouse shortly after. He had to pass by a police officer standing by the doorway to get inside, where another one was talking to Rachel. Danny recognized him as soon as he turned his head to look at him.
It was Pua Kai.
"Detective Williams," Pua said. "It's good to see you again."
Rachel looked at Danny too. She had a worried look on her face.
"Hey, everything all right?" Danny asked. "Where are the kids?"
"It is now," Rachel said. "Grace and Charlie are upstairs. Probably asleep by now. Jamba is over there." She gestured toward the couch in the back of the room. A cartoon Danny had never seen was playing on the TV screen right in front of it.
Danny nodded, then turned to Pua. "I didn't know you'd be here," he said.
"Sergeant Lukela sent us over here a couple of hours ago," Pua said. "Rachel just told me it's because she asked him to."
Drawing his brows in confusion, Danny opened his mouth to ask why would she do that, but she spoke up first.
"Yes, I did," Rachel confirmed. "I didn't like something about the officers who were here with us before. I thought I was being paranoid and I wasn't sure until Grace told me one of them tried to convince them it's all over and wanted to drive them home while another one was talking to me in the kitchen. Then he suddenly changed his mind."
"What?" Danny snapped.
"I tried to call you, Danny, but your cell was off, so I called Duke and told him about it. I asked if he could ask someone he trusted to stay with us instead. He sent Pua over here straight away.
Pua nodded in agreement. "Me and my friend Dave. I trust him so there's no need to worry."
Danny's head was in a spin. He felt sick. "What about the other officers?" he asked. "Who are they?"
"One of them is with HPD for a long time. I've never liked the guy. The other one joined just a few months ago. Sergeant Lukela is working on this right now. He's trying to find out what it was about because a phone call Grace had mentioned never came from anyone in HPD."
"I want to know everything we can get about these two," Danny said.
"Yes, sir. I'll make sure you get it as soon as possible," Pua said.
"Thanks."
"Danny," Rachel spoke again. "Grace told me about Steve. What's going on here?"
It was a question Danny wished he had the answer to. "I don't know," he said, lowering his voice in case Jamba could hear them. "I think he's being framed of murder and it doesn't look good for him right now. And the same someone wants me to drop the investigation but I … I can't do that."
Rachel rubbed her face absently. "No, I get it, I'm not asking you to. But what about the kids?"
"I'm not gonna let anything happen to them," Danny said. "That's why you're all here, all right?"
"But what about school? Grace missed the plane to the mainland today. And how—"
"Rachel, please," Danny interrupted her. "I know, okay? I'm working on it. This is just for a while. A few days tops."
She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "I don't like this," she said.
"I know and neither do I," Danny said. "But it's gonna be okay. Can you please be patient for once?"
Rachel replied with a slight nod and glanced over her shoulder at Jamba.
Danny followed suit, worry spiking inside him with the view of a tiny boy curled up on the couch. "Why is he still up?" he asked. "It's late."
"He's… upset, naturally," Rachel said. "I tried to talk to him, Danny, but he doesn't even look at me, let alone reply or do anything I say. He barely ate something and refused to go to sleep even when Charlie had suggested they could stay in the room together. Maybe he'll listen to you."
With a heavy sigh, Danny turned and walked over to the couch. Jamba didn't even bother to lift his head up.
"Hey, buddy," Danny began, moving closer to Jamba. "Looks like you're a night owl, huh?"
Jamba didn't look at him. "I don't know what that means," he mumbled.
"That means you like to stay up late at night," Danny explained. When Jamba didn't react, he gestured to the cartoon on the TV. "What are you watching?"
The silence was the only reply.
Danny put the backpack he'd brought from Steve's house on the couch. That got the boy's attention.
"That's my backpack," Jamba said.
"Yes, it is," Danny confirmed, faking a smile. "I stopped by at your place and brought some stuff you might need. Like your favorite pajamas. The camouflage one."
"It's not my favorite one," Jamba said, turning his attention back to the screen. "I like the blue one with the sharks."
"With the sharks?" Danny scrunched his forehead in confusion. "Sorry, buddy. I thought I heard you say it was this one."
"That's what I told Steve." Jamba's frown deepened. "Because he likes it a lot. He said he used to have one like that too when he was a little boy."
Danny's heart cracked at that. He let out a breath, not sure what he could say to that. There was no doubt that without Steve, the world was a dark place for Jamba. The kid was clinging to Steve as if he was his lifeline, and just the possibility of that being taken away must've been terrifying for the boy.
This would no doubt be harder than he had thought.
With hope to lighten up Jamba's mood at least a tiny bit, Danny continued. "I brought something else for you," he said, waiting for Jamba's natural curiosity to win over stubbornness.
It took a few long seconds, but eventually, Jamba lifted his head, staring at Danny in anticipation.
Danny's lips curled into a victorious smile. "Go ahead, it's in the backpack," he said.
For a moment, Danny thought Jamba would hang his head in resignation again, but he didn't. He unzipped the backpack and his eyes widened. Slowly, he reached inside and took out a wooden toy he'd once carved himself as a gift for Steve.
Jamba's gaze shifted from the wooden animal back to Danny. "Steve's seal?" he asked.
"That's right," Danny said. "Steve's seal. "We can't let him stay alone at home, can we? Someone needs to take care of him for Steve, right?"
A slight nod was Jamba's answer. He was cradling the toy in his arms, looking down at it with sadness that was breaking Danny's heart.
Danny crouched down so he was at the boy's eye level and held his gaze. "Listen. Uh… Do you trust me?" he asked.
Jamba shrugged. "Steve trusts you," he replied.
Danny's guess was he could take that as a yes, more or less. "This won't take long, okay?" he said. "I've promised you to bring your dad home and I intend to keep my promise no matter what. It's going to be all right, I promise you that. You'll be back together in no time. How about we make sure nothing happens to Mr. Seal by then, huh? I'm sure Steve would be sad if we lost him."
"I'm not gonna lose him." Jamba tightened his grip on the animal.
"Of course not. I know you'll take good care of him before returning him to Steve."
Jamba slid down from his seat, and, to Danny's surprise, wrapped his arms around Danny's neck. "Thank you, Danno," he whispered against Danny's shoulder.
Momentarily surprise had passed and Danny returned the unexpected embrace. Maybe Jamba did trust him, after all. The boy had never hugged him out of his own initiative before.
"Did Steve tell you to call me that?" he said after Jamba pulled away.
"He said you like it."
Danny's lips curled into a smile. "Sure he did," he said. "Okay, it's getting late, buddy. I'm sure Mr. Seal is tired too. How about we take him to the bed, huh?"
Jamba nodded, and led the way to the room upstairs, just across from the master bedroom, where Charlie was sleeping. After saying good night, Danny tucked the boy under a blanket and turned the light off.
"Can you leave the light on, please?" Jamba asked.
Danny turned the light back on. "Sure," he said. "I'll be right across the corridor if you need anything, all right?"
"Okay." Jamba shifted in bed and snuggled the toy seal close to his chest.
"Try to get some sleep, buddy. Good night," Danny said with a reassuring smile and left the room.
It was nearly midnight after a quick shower, and even though he knew he wouldn't get much sleep despite his exhaustion, he decided to give it a shot and try and get some rest before waking up in ungodly hours to do everything in his power to bring his best friend back home.
The double bed in the master bedroom was occupied by his son, but he was sure Charlie wouldn't mind if he sneaked in too. It was big enough for both of them, and, after yesterday's threat to his family, Danny wanted to have him close.
He left the door half-open so he could hear if anything was wrong, and sat on the bed. It woke Charlie up.
"Danno?" Charlie's voice was sleepy and his eyes only half-open.
Danny leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Charlie's head. "Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep, big guy. I love you," he whispered.
Satisfied it was just his dad in the room, Charlie closed his eyes again.
Danny lay there by his side, thousands of thoughts rushing through his head as he stared into the ceiling, thinking about his next moves. Hours passed and sleep didn't come, which didn't surprise him at all. He reached for his cell phone to check the time. Half-past two.
He scrubbed his eyes and turned over. Charlie was still asleep beside him, his breathing slow and even. Danny was surprised at how quickly the boy drifted back off into a carefree sleep.
Danny wished he could do the same thing himself, but he couldn't. He remembered the fire at the hotel, the bullet with the picture of his loved ones, and the black car in the street outside the house. He had been given a message, and its meaning was clear.
His continued investigation into the death of Steve's ex-girlfriend had been noticed.
He was being warned off.
But how could he stay away, knowing Steve was spending another night locked up in jail with dangerous criminals? And what if someone let the prisoners get to him again? He'd been through Steve's death—or he had thought so for ten torturous months—and he just got his friend back a few months ago. He wasn't about to let anyone take Steve from him again.
Not without a fight.
He lay back and closed his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. He needed to be rational. Going around punching the FBI agents wouldn't help Steve nor anyone else, he had figured that much while given some alone time in the holding cell.
He had spent the whole day behind the bars, trying to work out who might have been responsible for Steve's incarceration and the threats that Danny had received, and, as much as he tried to steer his thoughts in another direction, ultimately, he couldn't.
It had to be Hoffman.
There was no question that he was involved.
The question was… why?
Steve lay down and closed his eyes, but sleep did not come. His mind was restless, a flashing of emotions through the static of pain.
There was a relief. For a second he had wondered whether he might have really killed Lynn. At least he knew that he had not. And there was fear. Not for his life, he could take whatever lay ahead. But not knowing whether Danny would actually be released, nor whether someone would figure out the kids weren't safe with the cops in that house, made him nauseous. All the possible scenarios raced through his dazed mind and it was almost unbearable to think any of those could actually become real and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Even doing as Roederer said didn't guarantee his ohana's safety. But the bastard's word was all he had, and Steve could only hope there was no reason for Roederer to hurt them as long as he had Steve.
His mind refused to slow down as he lay there. It kept going back to Danny, to Grace and Charlie, to Jamba. To the fact he might never hold the boy in his arms again if he gave in to Roederer's demands.
Steve could hear the sound of Aydan's light snoring. He shifted, trying to find a position that didn't press up against the tender spots all over his body. It was impossible; the mattress was too thin and he had bruises everywhere. He rolled over onto his aching back, folded his arms across his chest, and looked up at the ceiling. The light in the cell was off, but there was no telling of the time without any natural light. He heard the sound of conversation from the nearby cells and, somewhere further, the sudden shrieking of a man in pain.
Steve closed his eyes. He tried to think. He would need to be smart if he wanted to stay alive. He would need all of his experience. Even that might not be enough if the guards were on Roederer's payroll.
But he had to try and do everything in his power to make it through. If not for himself, then for his son. The poor kid had been through hell and experienced more than most adults do in a lifetime. Breaking his trust or hurting him even more was the last thing Steve wanted to do. Considering his past, losing Steve might be too much for Jamba right now.
Sure, Danny would never let anything happen to the kid, Steve knew that much. But Jamba deserved to live a happy life and Steve had sworn to make sure of that. He had to fight. To survive. To find a way to get out, clear his name, and take care of his son.
It took a long time before his thoughts slowed, but, eventually, his mind became fogged with sleep. He saw Roederer swimming in the sea as Steve watched from his boat. Lynn was there, too, lying on the deck in a bikini with a cocktail close at hand. She looked up at Steve and smiled.
He allowed his breathing to deepen and, finally, he slept.
Aydan was already up when Steve awoke in the morning. He heard the sounds of exertion and, as he opened his eyes and looked over at the cell across the hall, he saw that the older man was working through a set of push-ups.
Aydan noticed Steve was awake. "Good morning," he said between push-ups. He performed another three to complete the set and, dipping down low and pushing up again. "How did you sleep?"
"Not bad," Steve said. "What time is it?"
"A little after six. We will have breakfast soon. How do you feel?"
Steve assessed the damage. He had been hurt, but it was superficial. His bones appeared to be intact, which was a miracle. His face was tender and his body was sore from the kicks and punches that Savage had delivered, but that was the extent of it. He would live.
"Better than last night," he lied.
"You look worse," the old man said with a grin.
Steve managed to get his feet beneath him and pressed himself upright. He winced from the effort as he slowly straightened his back.
He heard a sudden clattering from the corridor.
"Breakfast!" came a shouted call.
Steve heard the squeak of unoiled castors as the breakfast cart was wheeled down the corridor. The cart was attended to by a guard, who deposited a bar of soap and a metal billycan of food for each inmate. There was a small opening at the bottom of the bars, and a second guard slid the cans inside with skillful flicks of his feet.
It was impossible to define what kind of food it was, and Steve had no doubt it'd taste awful, but he wasn't about to complain about being able to eat his breakfast in peace this time.
When Steve was done, he slid the breakfast can back out of the cell so that the guards could collect it and stack it on the trolley as they made their way back along the corridor in the direction that they had arrived.
Just a few minutes later both guards returned. They marched down the corridor and stopped right in front of Steve's cell.
"Time for some sunshine," the taller one said while the other one unlocked the cell door.
Sensing what would happen next, but refusing to show any weakness, Steve stepped outside and let the guards march him down the corridor. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of a deja vu feeling. The last time he'd been allowed on the yard in the prison he'd ended up shanked by the man who had killed his father.
He shook that thought off his mind and hardened his expression. He was certain that he was about to face either Savage or someone else again, but he was ready this time.
Roederer might have him cornered up, but if the bastard thought Steve'd go down without a fight, he was wrong.
*to be continued*
Thanks for sticking with me. I hope you still enjoy this story. Please drop a review if you find a moment.