Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.
You Owe Me
Part 5
By
N. J. Borba
Steve stretched both arms above his head as he yawned.
His eyes opened and squinted in the gently lit room. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He didn't stay at her place very often but the satiny pale-blue sheets that smelled like her jasmine perfume were a dead giveaway that he hadn't slept at home, or alone. Steve smiled, recalling their intimate evening. He turned to his left, expecting to find her lying next to him. Instead he was greeted by a face full of blonde fur. His nose scrunched. "Ugh, Trooper," Steve groaned as the dog licked his face.
"Not the morning kiss you were expecting?" Catherine stood in the doorway of her bedroom, arms crossed, chuckling softly at the sight before her.
He scrambled out of bed, finding it difficult to fault the animal for wanting to play. Steve still couldn't imagine how anyone had willingly locked up the amiable creature in a kennel for months. "Not exactly, no," he strutted across the room and let his hands rest against either side of her waist. "Looks like you've been awake for a while, already fully dressed," he wore a small pout. "Why didn't you wake me?" his lips blocked her ability to answer for a moment as he kissed her.
"You looked so cute sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you," she grinned, clasping her hands behind his neck, content to remain in his arms for a while. Her eyes dipped a little, admiring the sinuous curve of his bare chest, and the glorious junction where his navy blue boxer-briefs met hip bone. "I got up early and started packing."
"I approve of the part where you started packing, not so much the bit about you leaving me alone in bed," Steve found himself smiling again, thinking about her moving in to his place and permanently waking up beside her. He leaned forward and gently kissed the small cut on her forehead. "That doesn't look so bad today," he noticed. His lips couldn't seem to stay away from her for very long, caressing their way down the left side of her face, then further south to her neck and along her collar bone. "What more do we need to do?" he whispered.
She closed her eyes, almost ashamed that he could still make her weak in the knees. "You haven't done nearly enough yet," Catherine replied in a sultry tone.
"No, I was…" Steve pulled back to look her in the eye. "Actually, I was talking about the packing," he admitted.
Her face flushed a little as she took him by the hand and led him out to the living room. "There's nothing more to do, this is it," Catherine waved a hand at the items in the middle of the room. "I'm done packing," she declared. "Everything I own is right here, aside from the sheets still on the bed."
"This is it?" he was surprised. "Five boxes and three suitcases?"
Catherine shrugged. "All the furniture came as part of the rental," she explained. "The cases are full of clothes, one box for shoes and another has my toiletries. I took all the kitchen stuff to a thrift shop yesterday because I figured we didn't need double. Third box has a bunch of memorabilia stuff. Fourth holds my record collection and fifth is just miscellaneous. Oh, and we have to take that," she pointed to something over his shoulder.
He turned his head, glanced across the room and grinned when he spotted the old turntable. "Uncle Henry's record player, of course," Steve acknowledged.
"I told you the story about my ninth birthday, right?" Catherine asked. "How my uncle Henry showed up as a surprise. He bought that record player from a vendor in London on his way home after finishing up a tour in Iran. Uncle Henry was so tired from his long flight, but he played record after record for me and we danced until we both literally dropped."
"I do remember that story," Steve said as he admired the sentimental smile she was wearing. "And you travel light," he observed. "I like it."
"I've been in the Navy for eighteen years, I didn't keep much from one place to another," Catherine pointed out. "Just the important stuff."
"I can transfer it all with one load in my truck this morning," Steve offered. "And that'll be it?"
"Aside from stripping down the bed, yep," she agreed. "I'll help you load it all and then drop the keys off with my landlord before I head to work." Catherine looked down at his attire again, or lack thereof, and smiled. "But first I think you need to get dressed."
"Are you sure?" he raised his brows. "We could always give the neighbors a nice show."
She laughed. "Moving boxes in your boxer-briefs…" Catherine liked the sound of it, "Could be fun, except most of my neighbors here are retired and in their sixties."
Steve kissed her again then dutifully went to get dressed. They made short work of loading the few items in to his truck. Then they sat on her front porch, basking in the morning sun, eating the last of the muffins and watching Trooper explore as much of the front yard as she could from her leash that was wrapped around Catherine's left wrist. Steve sat with his shoulder pressed against Catherine's, pleased by the thought of them having breakfast together every morning in the future. Or at least the potential for it.
He glanced over, noticing how she was picking at her muffin and not really eating. "What's up?" Steve asked. "Feeling nostalgic about leaving this place?"
"Not really, no," she turned to him, sunlight causing red highlights to stand out in her hair. "It's just another place, never really home." Catherine's thoughts returned to her conversation with Billy the day before and what Steve had told her about the case last night. "Actually, I was just thinking it would be nice if you went to see Billy this morning, if you were the one to tell him about Chase's death," she carefully suggested. "They were best friends and it would be kind of awful for him to see it on the news."
Steve nodded hesitantly. "I guess I could," it wasn't exactly what he figured was on her mind.
A glance at her watch caused Catherine to jump up. "I need to go." She waited for him to stand and kissed him quickly, but tenderly. "Are you sure you're okay unloading all this stuff and getting Trooper settled at your place?" Catherine crouched down and tousled the dog's shiny coat. "She's only had a day here with me, now another new place. You think she'll be okay there on her own today?" she asked.
"She'll be fine," Steve assuaged her concern. "Gotta let them grow up at some point," he grinned.
"Be good," Catherine said as she stood and transferred Trooper's leash to Steve.
"Are you talking to me or the dog?" Steve asked as he caught her about the waist for one more kiss.
A laugh escaped as she kissed him then edged toward her car. "Both of you," she answered.
000
Steve took the dog with him on the elevator to the sixth floor office.
He hadn't wanted to leave the animal in the car since the morning sun was already blazing. And there was no parking garage in the area. Steve knocked lightly on the office door, which he noticed now had a new frosted glass insert installed, and Harrington's name printed in blocky white letters. "Fancy," he looked down at the dog and shrugged. There was no answer but the door was slightly open so Steve entered.
The place was much cleaner than the last time Steve had seen it, and much improved by the new construction. He found Billy in a back room, leaning against a wall, staring at paint samples shoved in to the grove between wall and window trim. "Beige is good," Steve announced his presence. "Nice and neutral," he offered.
When Billy turned around to face his visitor, Trooper lunged at the man and growled.
Although the dog's reaction caused Steve to feel rather proud, he tightened his hold on her leash. "Trooper, easy girl," he soothed.
"Commander," Harrington stood up straighter. "Why do I get the feeling Catherine sent you here?" he asked, recalling his conversation with the woman the night before.
"She suggested I pay you a visit," Steve easily admitted. "But maybe not for the reason you're thinking."
As delicately as he could, Steve relayed the news of Martin Chase's death to his fellow SEAL. He watched the man sag heavily against the wall, struggling not to cry. It made Steve uncomfortable, but also somewhat humbled. Anyone who would cry over a lost friend couldn't be all bad. In an attempt to settle the uneasiness, Steve further explained how they'd found Chase on the boat and even told Billy, word for word, what the recording had said. Everything from Chase's declaration of love for Dugan, to how he'd altered the drawings.
"That recording can't be real," Billy declared with a stiff tone.
The sudden shift in mood had Steve a little on edge, and it didn't help that Trooper was still acting very restless toward Harrington. The animal softly growled at him. "You don't believe it happened that way?" Steve asked. "Or maybe you were jealous of your best friend having an affair with Dugan?" he found himself mistrusting the man again.
"I know for a fact it didn't happen that way, but not because I was involved," Billy sighed. "I couldn't be jealous of Marty and Cathy because I know she wasn't Marty's type."
"Everyone strays from the norm now and then. Although you certainly seem to like a specific type," Steve realized there was more accusation in his tone than he'd meant.
Billy scoffed, "I know Cathy wasn't Marty's type because she was a woman. He may have loved her as a friend, but nothing more than that."
Steve was momentarily taken aback by those words, turning them over in his head. "Oh," the truth finally dawned on him. "Martin Chase was gay?" Steve watched Billy nod without hesitation, but he still had to ask, "You're sure about that?"
"Very," Harrington replied. "But whoever set up Marty clearly didn't know that because they wouldn't have used this lame cover of him and Dugan being romantically linked."
"So you think Martin was coerced in to saying all those things on the recorder? That he was set up and murdered?" Steve had been feeling funny about the case, but he hadn't really thought about a set up. It started to make some sense, though, "Why didn't you tell me the truth about Chase last time we talked?"
"Because it really wasn't my place to tell you, especially while Marty was still…" Billy was a bit exasperated. "Marty is my friend…" he paused. "Was my friend," he corrected. "Best one I've ever had. No one knew, not even his dad. Marty did his best to pretend it wasn't true. He worried it would have an impact on his career, on everything in his life. When I joined the Navy he'd considered it as well, but he was too concerned about the repercussions if anyone ever found out."
There was no way for Steve to argue that point. He'd thrived on military life but he knew it could be a hostile place for some. "So he never had any relationships?"
"Not that I know of," Harrington rubbed his hands together. "There was someone he liked in college but the guy wasn't interested, and Marty came real close to killing himself senior year because of the situation. But I know he'd gotten past all that, therapy. He was happy here, happy doing what he loved. I don't believe he would kill himself."
Steve looked down at the dog, trying to put the pieces together. "I'm starting to think you might be right," he finally agreed. With his gaze leveled on Harrington again, Steve sucked up his courage. "I'm trying to be okay with you and Catherine working together, but it's a little uncomfortable," Steve admitted.
"Commander, I've never had anything but respect for you," Billy looked his old friend in the eye, having said similar things before to the man. "And I imagine I might feel exactly the same way if the situation were reversed. But you might be interested to know I've been seeing someone for a few weeks," he revealed.
There was a long moment of reluctance on Steve's part, but he finally extended his right hand. "I'm sorry about the loss of your friend."
Harrington reached out and shook hands. "Thank you."
Both of them knew it was still only a tentative truce.
000
"Where are you? I've been trying to reach you for a half hour."
Steve glanced in his rearview mirror. Trooper was sitting obediently, tongue out and panting happily as a gentle breeze blew from an open side window. Further back, a tarp was pulled tight over Catherine's stuff. "I've had a few things to take care of this morning, Danny," he directed his words toward the cell phone clamped on his dash. "I'll be at the office in an hour, or maybe slightly longer," Steve said. "I need to drop some stuff off at home."
"Change of plans, pick me up at my place."
"Why?" Steve asked.
"I had to take Grace to school, and then I had to drop off the Camaro to have an oil change and twenty-point engine inspection. I know it probably seems too soon to you for that, but the way you drive my car I figured it was necessary. Anyhow, I walked home because it's only a few blocks. So I'm a little behind this morning as well, but Chin contacted me and he has a lead on the one tattoo place on this island that also does some creative branding, as they put it. That means you have to drive us."
With a furrowed brow, Steve questioned the plan. "Why was Chin looking in to the branding matter?"
"Because last night on the boat your gut said this case wasn't over. Chin and I both know what that means… leave no stone unturned."
A smile crept over Steve's face. He admired the way his team knew him so well. "And Harrington just gave me some information that could be a game changer. Okay, Danny. I can be at your place in about ten," he disconnected the call and made a quick U-turn.
When Danny climbed in to the truck a few minutes later, Steve noticed the bag his partner was carrying; a green and gold plastic sack. "What is that?"
"This? Nothing," Danny buckled in and turned around to give Trooper an affectionate pat on the head.
Steve grinned as he pulled out of the driveway. He couldn't help admire the way Danny treated the dog with respect. Trooper seemed perfectly calm with him, as opposed to how she'd reacted to Harrington earlier. "What are you doing, bringing your lunch to work now?" Steve wouldn't let the plastic bag issue go.
"No, it's just…" Danny gave up and reached inside the bag. "Here you go, Mr. Nosey. It's a little house warming present I got for you."
"I'm staying in the same house," Steve pointed out the obvious fact.
Danny's eyes rolled as they pulled on to the main road. "Yes, I understand that. But you're moving in with Catherine, so… just accept the gift," he held the item out to his friend.
"In case you hadn't realized, Danny, I'm trying to drive right now. What is that?" Steve turned his head for a second and glanced at the object in Danny's hand. He read the wording on the cover. "Communicating with Your Significant Other," Steve's eyes narrowed. "What the heck is that, Danny?"
"It's a book," his partner replied.
"I can see it's a book, Sherlock," McGarrett groaned. "I do know what a book is, Danny. I meant, why are you giving me this?"
"You're a great guy, Steve. You know that. I know that," Danny flipped through the book as he spoke. "But your communication skills kind of suck," he bravely added. "You see, the thing is that most normal people have a series of events in a relationship. They start with a declaration of love and then move on to living together and or a marriage proposal. You, my friend, have not even been able to get the L word out. And you pretty quickly freaked out about the marriage thing. So, maybe the book can help."
"I did not freak about the marriage thing. And… are you actually being serious with this right now?" Steve was a little offended.
"Trust me. This book is great. I wish I'd had this sucker when Rachael and I started dating," Danny nodded. "Listen to this, there's one whole chapter on questions you should ask your significant other to determine if you're compatible. Question number one, what is your partner's favorite color?" he read. "That seems easy enough, right? No, wait, let me guess… yours is gunmetal," Danny chuckled at his own joke.
"Blue," Steve corrected. "My favorite color is blue and so is Catherine's. What the heck does color have to do with a relationship anyhow?"
"Okay, smarty," Danny persisted. "How about this one, would you rather live together before marriage or no?"
Steve grumbled, "Seriously?" He realized Danny wasn't going to give up, though. "Obviously that's a yes for me and Catherine."
"Right," Danny scanned the questions. "Does your partner have any brothers or sisters?"
"No, Catherine is an only child," Steve replied, "Unless you count her step-father's three sons, which I don't think she does. Her mother only married the guy ten years ago so they were all adults already and Catherine tends to stay away from family gatherings with them. She's always been a daddy's little girl. Kind of like Grace is your monkey and probably always will be, even as you walk her down the aisle on her wedding day."
Danny smiled at the mention of his daughter. But he was not distracted enough by the wedding comment, "What is your partner's middle name?"
"Catherine June Rollins," Steve answered, figuring it was better to just humor him.
"June?" Danny questioned, "As in, June Cleaver?"
"As in the month she was born," Steve supplied. "And she kind of hates that name so please don't tell her I told you. Catherine was named after her paternal grandmother, has some family history for her. June being the month she was born, makes her think her parents didn't give it very much thought."
"It's just a middle name," Danny said. "At least she wasn't born in September or October. That would probably be a little strange. Cathy Octy," he joked.
"This whole conversation is strange," Steve declared. "Catherine and I talk. I know stuff about her. I just aced your questions, so are we done?"
"Those were just the easy ones," Danny interrupted. "You want some harder ones? Does your partner like Opera? What is your partner's favorite comfort food?"
Steve shook his head. "I'd rather you shut up, but I can tell the likelihood of that happening any time soon isn't in my favor."
"I can just read to myself for a while if you prefer," Danny shrugged. "You want me to read to myself? If that's what you want. Fine with me," he actually stopped talking for a few minutes and read more questions, alternately laughing and scoffing at some of them. When he finally looked up at the road again, Danny frowned. "Steve?" he called to his friend. "Yoo-hoo? Are you driving here or what? I'm pretty sure that old lady with the walking cane just passed us," Danny pointed out the window.
"Hmm, what? Sorry, were you talking to me?" Steve asked.
"Sorry?" Danny thought maybe his partner had been trying to make a joke about ignoring him, but the sorry threw him off. "You never apologize. What's up?"
"Nothing," a head shake followed Steve's declaration, but was unconvincing. "This Billy thing, I guess."
That name sparked Danny's interest. "Is it nothing, or is it Billy?"
"If it were up to me," Steve gripped the wheel a little tighter. "Billy Harrington would be nothing but a blip on my radar screen."
"Okay, enough with the Navy analogies," Danny closed the book and dropped it back into the bag at his feet. "If you knew you were going to be this neurotic about it all, I don't understand why you let Catherine take the job in the first place," he ventured. "She hasn't even started working with him and you're freaking out. Billy being a murder suspect for a short time notwithstanding, I think you made a huge mistake."
"Not let, Danny. I don't let her do anything, she doesn't need my permission," Steve clarified. "That should be one of your book questions, by the way… would you allow your partner to work with someone they used to… never mind," he cleared his head of those thoughts. "Can I just say that you have serious mood swings," Steve accused. "First you said she shouldn't take the job then you said you were wrong and maybe Billy wasn't so bad. Now you're back to her not taking the job," he sighed. "You know what, the most important thing is that Catherine is an adult and she can make her own decisions."
Danny nodded. "Yes, she can."
Steve nodded as well. "I just thought I could handle this, thought I could be the cool boyfriend and all that. But all I really want to do is…"
"Punch him?" Danny supplied.
"Do not tell Catherine I said that," Steve replied in a warning tone.
With his hands held up, Danny shrugged. "Technically, you didn't. I did."
"And for the record, I'm driving so slowly because I have all of Catherine's stuff in the back of my truck," Steve tried to get away from the Billy topic. "Trooper, too," he noted, still impressed by how well behaved the dog was being in the backseat.
"So how is life with a dog going for you?" Danny asked conversationally.
"Good, fine," Steve knew everyone was still surprised he liked the dog. "It's only been a few days but I think the two of us are getting along well enough," he shrugged. "Except she doesn't really listen to me or follow my orders. But that's pretty much how things go with most of the females in my life - mom, Mary, and even Catherine." Steve eyed Danny. "Is there a dog and dog owner version of that book?"
They both laughed until Danny pointed out the sign for their stop shortly after entering Chinatown. Loopy gold lettering spelled out the words: Beyond the Ink. A black and red graffiti style background of Chinese characters depicting the same words completed the sign. "I guess branding is the beyond part," Steve remarked.
"Creative branding," Danny noted.
Not seeing any parking spots on the street, Steve pulled the truck to a stop in the alley behind the shop. A shady spot for Trooper.
"Hey, I just had an idea," Danny said as the jingling of bells signaled their entry in to the establishment. "Maybe this is the answer to your ring dilemma."
"What ring dilemma?" Steve asked, though the instant bombardment of loud music inside the shop caused some difficulty in being heard.
"You know, how you can't seem to find a ring for Catherine that you like, or, how did you put it… calls out her name," Danny reminded him, raising his voice above the insipidly loud Goth music overhead. "So maybe you and Catherine could get his and hers matching ring tattoos instead."
"Are you kidding me?" Steve sighed.
"People do it," Danny insisted. "But you could just get a fake one for the proposal, a temporary decal in case she turns you down."
"Danny, I am not asking Catherine to marry me with a tattoo decal," Steve said as they approached the main counter. "You the owner?" he asked a woman who appeared to be late thirties. She had jet-black hair with a bright blue streak on the left side, and a distinctive tattoo of a cobra that wrapped around her right forearm.
She nodded and gave her name, "Tara Lee. You here for an addition?" the woman noticed the tattoos peeking out from either side of his short sleeve t-shirt. "I can give you and your friend a multiple discount if you each get some work done," she offered.
Danny politely shook his head. "I'll pass on that offer, thanks. But do you do wedding ring tattoos?"
Steve sighed at his partner. He pulled out his cell phone and showed her pictures of the dove brand on both of their victims, "Is this your work, Tara?"
"Yep," the woman nodded. "A simple design, but I haven't had much practice with creative branding so it's always a nice switch. Cute couple came in last Thursday for that work."
"Did either of them happen to mention the significance of the design?" Danny asked.
"Nah, sorry," Tara's head shook.
"You still have the brand you used?" Steve wondered.
The woman's brows bunched. "Oh, that's not… I don't use an old-school branding iron like you're thinking. That stuff is for cattle. I freehanded those doves using an electric soldering iron to burn on the design. Some people think it's a crude method, but others seem to like it more than tattooing. Cheaper, too, because it's faster. The precision is not the same as what you get with a tattoo needle, though. And no color options."
"Except burned flesh," Danny remarked.
"The two people you branded with this symbol are dead now," Steve let her know. "Have you used this soldering tool of yours since Thursday?" Steve asked.
"Nope, you need it as evidence or something?" she offered. "Look, man, I swear all my equipment is clean and sterile. I didn't kill anybody."
Steve nodded. "I trust you. I'm mostly just curious to see what it looks like," he smiled.
"Okay, sure. Hang on," Tara pointed over her shoulder. "It'll be somewhere in the equipment room. My assistant isn't here today and I'm not the best when it comes to organization," the woman said before she disappeared in to the back room.
Danny and Steve looked around the shop as they waited. The place was small, but efficient, and almost cozy if not for the music blaring. There was one tattooing chair positioned in the middle of the space and displays of artwork on the walls. "I don't see any security cameras," Steve pointed out, much to his disappointment. After five minutes had passed, Steve's gut was feeling more than a little uncomfortable. "Do you suppose she's ever coming back?" he glanced toward the equipment room.
The detective sighed, knowingly. "Why do they always run?" Danny groaned.
Both men pulled their weapons and immediately rushed to the back room. The area was filled with shelves and boxes of supplies, rubber gloves, ink in about a thousand different colors and a surplus of needles. But no proprietor and no soldering iron. Danny went to the back door and opened it, sticking his head out in to the alley to search for the woman who'd seemed so helpful a few minutes ago. "Uh, Steve…" he stepped back inside. "We've got a problem."
"Yeah, she knew something and didn't tell us," Steve looked to his partner. "And now she's gone."
"Not just gone, buddy," Danny held the door open a little wider. "She took your truck."
"No," Steve holstered his weapon and dashed outside. He looked left and right but only saw stone walls and asphalt staring back at him. "Danny, all of Catherine's stuff and…"
"Trooper," Danny realized with a sick feeling, already kind of fond of the dog himself.
Steve took off like a shot, sprinting down the alley toward the busy street. He was vaguely aware of Danny's footsteps behind him as he scanned the main street. There was no sign of the truck but he spotted a woman about to get in to her red Kia Rio sedan. He ran toward her, flashing his badge. "Ma'am, I need your car, official 5-0 business," he said, not waiting for an answer as he did his best to gently push her aside.
Danny was there to jump in the passenger seat just a second before Steve hit the gas.
"Call Chin," Steve instructed. "Have him track the GPS in my truck."
"Gotta love a dumb criminal," Danny muttered as he made the call without hesitation.
As they waited for Chin to answer, Steve circled the block, hoping to accidentally come across the woman and his truck. "Can't this thing go any faster?" he glanced at the speed gage dial and groaned, pushing his foot down harder against the gas pedal.
Trying to stay focused and explain the situation to Chin, Danny did his best not to laugh at the fact his friend had chosen a ridiculous vehicle for their pursuit. "Yep, got it Chin," he waved his arm at Steve. "Hang a right at the next light and take the on ramp," Danny instructed. "She's on the H1 headed east."
When Danny finally put Chin on speaker, the man back at HQ continued to guide them. "She's about five minutes ahead of you. Now on the Kalanianaole highway…"
"Come on you gutless piece of plastic," Steve urged the economy car.
"Hang on a second, looks like she's just turned off at Wailupe Beach Park," Chin reported.
"That doesn't make any sense," Steve said. "Wailupe is a tiny green space with only a dead-end parking lot and nothing but water beyond that…" he trailed off.
Danny looked to his partner. "She wouldn't. Would she?"
Steve's foot stomped on the gas again, trying not to worry about the dog. He turned off at the park's entrance three minutes later and instantly spotted his truck. The blue Chevy had gone up over the curb at the end of the parking lot and was inches away from the water, but stopped. As Steve and Danny approached with caution, guns drawn, Steve couldn't detect any outward signs of damage to his truck. "Tara!" he shouted, seeing she was still in the front seat. "Get out of the truck, now! Hands where we can see them!"
"Can't do that!" the woman shouted back.
Taking careful steps toward his truck, Steve could hear something over the gentle crash of waves. It was Trooper growling, even more ferociously than when he'd visited Harrington earlier in the day. "Don't move then," Steve warned as he made his way to the driver's side.
"Not a problem," Tara replied. "This stupid mutt of yours caused me to go off road and is trying to bite my arm in half," the woman complained. "Call her off."
Danny and Steve finally caught sight of Tara. They both smiled at the scene. Trooper had her front paws on the woman's chest, holding Tara captive.
"She just nipped you, not even any blood," Steve reported as he inspected her arm.
"Can we use Trooper as a police dog?" Danny chuckled as he took her leash and gently coaxed the animal away from Tara. "Good girl," he cooed at the dog, leading her out of the truck.
Trooper's growls immediately ceased in favor of affectionately nuzzling against Danny's thigh.
With an appreciative glance in the dog's direction, Steve pulled Tara from the truck. He cuffed her and turned her to face him for questioning. "What do you know about the deaths of Cathleen Dugan and Martin Chase?" he asked.
"Nothing, never heard of them," the woman replied. "All I know is that some guy came in to my shop Thursday night, stuck a gun in my face and said he needed the soldering iron I used for branding. I got it for him and then he said that if anyone showed up I should tell them I did the branding work myself for some dove designs. And that if I told anyone the truth about him being there he'd burn my shop to the ground. So I didn't say shit, until just now."
"Why'd you run?" Danny asked.
"I've got nothing but that shop to keep me and my kids afloat. To be honest, it's not that great of a money maker. I was branching out with the services, piercings, branding, whatever I could to make some extra cash," Tara explained. "Couldn't let it burn, though, got no insurance. I had to make it look like I wasn't cooperating with you in case he was watching me."
"Who was the guy?" Steve asked. "Describe him to me."
"About your height and build," Tara looked Steve up and down. "But his face was covered by a dark mask, so…" she shrugged.
"You still saw his eyes, right?" Steve persisted, hoping for some small clue.
"Pretty sure they were green, maybe hazel," Tara answered. "I can't go to jail. And if I lose my shop, my kids go to foster care. I'm all they've got."
Steve unlocked her cuffs. "Get in," he instructed her, pointing to his truck. "I'll take you home and I'll have HPD watch your shop until we catch this guy. That's a promise," he told the woman with a reassuring nod. Steve took Trooper's leash from Danny and situated the dog back in his truck, sure that the animal was keeping an eye on Tara. He turned to Danny and tossed him the keys to the Rio. "You can drive that pile of crap back to Chinatown for me," Steve grinned.
"Oh, now you let me drive," Danny lamented.
000
"Well, we know Harrington has brown eyes," Danny pointed out as they walked down the hall. "Guess that rules him out again. But his friend Chase had hazel eyes."
"About the same height and weight as me, too," Steve replied. After dropping Tara off in Chinatown, Steve and Danny had worked together to unload Catherine's stuff. They'd just gotten Trooper settled in with bowls of food and water when Max had contacted them. "If what Billy told me is true, then it doesn't make sense that Chase was in love with Dugan. But maybe it was more about friendship love than romantic love?" Steve suggested.
"Love of any sort…" Danny sighed. "Makes people do dumb stuff."
"Even brand themselves?" Steve asked.
Danny shrugged. "Placement of Chase's brand would be tricky to do on his own, but he's way better at stick figures than me."
"And the plot thickens," Max said ominously as they walked in to his lab.
Steve frowned. "What are you going on about, Max? Did you find anything out about Chase?" he asked as he and Danny stood over the dead body on Max's table.
Max smiled wanly. "Sorry, Commander. I've just always wanted to say that," the ME revealed. "And it seemed like the perfect line considering what I discovered about your victim." He flicked on the light to his x-ray monitor and gestured at the picture that appeared. "This is Martin Chase's neck. Do you notice anything odd about it?"
Danny squinted, "Some sort of object there that's darker than everything else," he noticed.
"Very good, Detective Williams," Max nodded. "That is a foreign object I found in your victim's throat."
"So he choked to death?" Danny wondered.
"No, he was killed instantly by the gunshot to his head," Max reported. "The object in his throat never made it down far enough to be swallowed."
"I'm assuming you already know what the object is, Max?" Steve waited, not-so-patiently.
With a perfunctory nod, Max moved across the room and grabbed a small stainless steel bowl. He walked it over to the table so they could see the tiny black and gold item nestled within the bowl. "This is a Micro SD card," he revealed. "Small enough to be swallowed without much trouble. But since the card was only at the back of Chase's throat I'm guessing he didn't want to actually swallow it. I'm thinking he was simply holding it there for safe keeping."
"Safe keeping?" Danny questioned.
As he stared down at the item, Steve found himself in agreement with Max's assessment. "He was hiding it from someone else on that boat, maybe his murderer." Steve turned to Danny. "This card has got to be what they were looking for at his place."
"That thing?" Danny scoffed. "That's not nearly big enough to warrant the King Kong size holes we found at his place."
"Whoever it was probably thought they were looking for the hard copy architectural drawings that had been altered by Chase," Steve suggested. "Large drawings, large holes," he thought. "But this is the digital age," Steve noted. "Max, is that card in decent enough shape for us to extract data from it?"
Max grinned. "I'm already ahead of you, commander. I downloaded the data and sent it to Charlie for analysis."
"Good, because I was not about to go near that card," Danny shuddered. "I make it a point to never touch things that people swallow, or almost swallow, or..."
"How about the branding mark on Chase's lower back," Steve continued to question the medical examiner, tuning Danny out. "Can you estimate when it was applied, like you did with Dugan? And can you tell if Chase's gunshot was self-inflicted or not?"
"Firstly," Max replied. "I determined that Chase had been dead for nearly twenty-four hours when I first received the body for examination," he relayed. "Based on the fact that the brand was still very red and blistered, I'd say it occurred sometime within only a few hours before his death. I highly doubt it was done at the same time as the mark on Dugan."
"And the other thing?" Steve asked.
With a sigh, Max returned his attention to the body on his table. "That part is a little trickier," he revealed. "Your victim appears to be left handed, which is consistent with the bullet's trajectory of left to right. However, the bullet also traveled at a slight upward angle. That could simply mean that our victim was hesitant when he took the shot and his arm was somewhat lowered. It could also mean…"
"He was shot by someone shorter than him," Steve concluded.
"Correct," Max affirmed.
Steve flashed an appreciative smile at their ME even though he'd hoped for more exact evidence. "Thank you, Max."
Danny and Steve left the ME and took the elevator down one floor to find Charlie in his lab. "Commander, Detective," Fong greeted them. "I've been expecting you. I'm guessing you already know what Max found?" He didn't wait for an answer as he motioned them toward a large computer monitor. "The only thing on the SD card were some short AVI clips. They look like surveillance type stuff, black and white footage."
Charlie's screen flickered to life, and Steve immediately recognized the camera's interior. "Dugan's office," he spotted one of the porcelain figures on her desk.
The room was fairly dark as a figure opened the door and entered the office. The figure was dressed in dark clothing. "Oh, look, they're wearing a mask and gloves, how great for them," Danny pointed out. "I actually kind of prefer when criminals are dumb."
As they continued to watch they saw the figure sit in front of Dugan's laptop, power it up and begin to type. "Charlie, is there a better angle to see the screen?" Steve asked.
"Only this side view," Fong replied. "But I zoomed in on the keyboard earlier and was able to determine what the person typed in, at least some of it. The first sequence is the password I decrypted in order to access Dugan's email files."
"So this person was able to get in to their email account," Danny realized, "Which means they could've been the one to send those blackmail emails to Chase."
"Making him think it was Dugan," Steve surmised.
"The same figure appears in the other clip," Charlie said as he switched to a new file.
Steve didn't recognize the second office, but he noticed a picture on the wall of a trolley like the famous ones often seen in San Francisco. "Chase's office," he guessed. The dark figure did the same thing in Chase's office as it had done in Dugan's, typing away at his computer. "Someone was using both their computers. Who the heck is this guy?"
"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's a woman," Fong replied. He looked over to see the expectancy on their faces. "Height is about five foot six inches. And given the average weight of a human head, coupled with some body circumference software I used… the figure weighs about a hundred and fifteen pounds," he revealed. "Here," he displayed a third image for them, this one a still picture. "This is what Chin pulled off the Ala Wai Marina security cam. Our figure here is roughly the same height and weight," Fong concluded.
"So we're looking for a woman," Danny realized.
"Yes and no," Steve countered. "Nathan Joyce said he couldn't be sure if the voice he heard over the phone was male, but Tara seemed positive a guy threatened her. Now we have evidence that a woman was very likely responsible for these emails," Steve looked to Danny, seeing that his partner had just caught on.
"We've got two suspects working together," Danny was the one to voice the conclusion, "Partners."
Steve nodded. "Do you think they know each other's favorite color?"
To be continued…