Ice Storm

By Micki Kay Barrera

From the tropical, sunny sands, of Honolulu to the stunning climax in a frigid January in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, comes a story of intrigue, love, hope and redemption.

During his investigation into the murder of local prostitute Joey Kim, Honolulu Detective Brick Houston's path crosses with Lynda Rose, a tourist from Michigan, trying to piece her life together after the tragic death of her husband Mike.

Tempers flare and sparks fly when Brick discovers Lynda was the last person to see Joey alive. He concludes it was a coincidence...until Lynda is kidnapped...then the mystery begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Micki Kay Barrera
• Release date: Dec 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370569779

Micki Kay Barrera

Micki Kay Barrera lives in Romeo Michigan with her neglected husband James and two spoiled cats, Zena and Zoro

Book preview

CHAPTER

1

Saturday, January 24, 1998

8:30 am

Joey’s long black hair splayed around her head like an open fan as her lifeless eyes stared up at the early morning sky-the waves crashing on the beach trying to pull her body further into the ocean.

Detective Brick Houston plodded through the wet sand, then stood over the body, recognizing the swollen, bruised face. Shit, I know this girl! He crouched down to study the bullet hole in her forehead. How long do you think she’s been here? He asked, glancing over at Brian Snow, the Medical Examiner, who was kneeling next to the body gathering evidence.

Snow glanced at his watch. I figure about six or seven hours. We’ll know more when we get her in for autopsy.

Any footprints have probably been washed away by the tide… Brick stood, inspecting the crime scene. The black dress she wore was bunched around her hips. He noticed her panties were intact—it didn’t appear to be a sexual assault. A red high heel lay nearby in the sand while the other was still on her foot.

There were none. All gone by the time she was found.

Who found her? Brick dug a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and offered one to Brian.

He nodded his head. Couple of kids… they’re more petrified about their parents catching them sneaking out last night, than of finding a dead body on the beach.

Where are they now? Brick gazed out over the water, watching a sailboat in the distance. He put a cigarette to his mouth, turning away from the ocean, trying to light it out of the wind.

Officer Hughes took them back to the precinct for questioning…and to call their parents. Snow chuckled to himself, Teenagers. Then continued his task at hand.

Brick’s cell vibrated in his pants pocket. He fished it out, moving away from the crime scene. Hey, Chief. What’s up?

Where the hell you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday!

Just hanging out at the beach.

And doing what?

Thinking. He held a finger to his opposite ear to hear over the waves, the cigarette still burning between his fingers.

Thinking that maybe you need to get a life?

Thinking I need to retire. He took a deep drag, kicking at a seagull moving close to the crime scene.

And do what, hang out at the beach the rest of your life? By the way, are you drinking again?"

If you call three beers drinking, I guess I am.

All right smart ass, tell me what’s going on out there. He heard the chief sigh.

Bullet right between the eyes, execution style. Way out of this girl’s league.

Why do you say that?

I know her. She’s a small-time hooker. I’ve busted her a few times over the years.

That does sound strange.

I know where she lives. I’ll give her roommate a visit and call you later. He started to hit the end button on his phone.

Wait a second! the chief yelled before he could hang up.

What? Brick rolled his eyes-he knew what was coming.

Jenny wants you to come to dinner tonight.

Is this another ‘feel-sorry-for-Brick dinner’ where one of Jenny’s attractive friends ‘just happens to stop by’? He made quotes in the air with the hand that held the cigarette.

Yes, it is—and shave…you look like a bum.

Brick rubbed his two-day growth with his thumb.

And don’t wear that stupid shirt.

He glanced down at his Hawaiian shirt and noticed two beer stains. What’s wrong with it? We are in Hawaii, if you hadn’t noticed.

You’re a detective. Start looking like one.

Can’t hear you…bad connection. Brick hit the end button, glancing back at Joey’s body, then out at the waves crashing onto the shore. Sanderlings scurried along the water’s edge, searching for flies and mollusk, while seagulls were screeching in the wind, the beach coming alive with early morning surfers. He flicked the cigarette butt into the ocean, rubbing his forehead-he was tired, his bones ached and his Irish red hair was thinning.

Too long on this damn island chasing rapists, robbers, and thieves. He threw his hands up in the air and yelled, I’m done!

Excuse me, Detective?

He swung around. It was Derek, the baby faced Rookie, who looked like he didn’t shave yet.

What, Derek? he snapped.

Chief just called. Wants me to hang out with you today—help with the investigation.

Derek stood over six feet tall and was close to 250 pounds. Brick wondered how long the shocks on his patrol car would last. Great! Glaring at Derek he stormed off.

CHAPTER

2

Saturday January 17

Seven days before Joey’s murder

The cameras clicked and snapped around her, as she held the camera to her eye and blinked back tears. Lynda took a few shots then stood staring across the coast of Waikiki. She was breathless, the climb up Diamond Head felt like the hikes she and Mike used to take in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. She absently clicked another frame, moving away from the tourists who surrounded her. She closed her eyes, listening to the rhythmic sound of waves on the beach below, the soft ocean breeze touching her face. Mike always wanted a cruise to Alaska, but she couldn’t bear the thought going without him. She was hoping the warm Oahu sun would start melting her Michigan January away—and the sadness she left behind.

Some view, huh?

She jumped.

Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. He took a step back holding up his hand. It was the handsome young man who joined her tour group that morning. He wasn’t sweating, and didn’t have hair out of place.

Beautiful isn’t it? He gestured toward the coastline.

Yes, it is.

By the way, my name is Vincent. He held out his hand, taking a small step toward her.

She smiled politely. I’m Lynda. She returned the handshake, turning back toward the ocean.

Your first time to Hawaii?

She glanced over at him. Yes.

Where are you from?

Michigan. And you? She felt obligated to ask.

Jersey—can’t you tell by my accent? He smiled, showing perfect white teeth.

Lynda noticed another man from their tour group walking toward them. Isn’t this place great? He held out his hand. I’m Larry. How you folks doing? He had a slight southern drawl and an easy smile. And that little lady over there, he pointed toward a small woman with a large camera to her face, is my wife Barbara, we’re celebrating our thirtieth anniversary. He smiled proudly, rocking back on his heels, hands jingling change in his pockets.

Congratulations, they said at the same time.

We’re from Cleveland. Ever hear of it? He laughed at his own joke. First time to Hawaii for the two of you? He leaned in, waiting for an answer.

It is for me. Lynda answered. I can’t believe I’m in shorts and flip-flops; yesterday I was wearing a coat and hat.

And where are you from Missy, that you had to wear a coat and hat? Please don’t tell me Ohio.

She could tell he was teasing, and smiled. Close to it—Michigan, not far from Ann Arbor. I’m sure you’ve heard of U of M football.

Don’t get me going on those Wolverines! Larry grinned, pointing to his chest. Buckeye fan, myself. Last year when I retired, me and Barbara agreed the first place we’d visit was Hawaii.

Lynda noticed Vincent had turned away from the conversation, looking toward Waikiki. He stood quietly, his hands behind his back.

What about you, Vincent? Mind if I call you Vince? Larry didn’t wait for an answer. Where you from?

Jersey, Vincent answered, glancing over at the two of them.

Are the two of you going on the Pearl Harbor tour tomorrow? Larry asked.

I promised my dad I would take some pictures for him. Lynda pointed to the camera around her neck.

A tough time, that war. Larry gazed off in the distance. I’m kind of dreading going. I have an uncle, my mom’s youngest brother, who’s still there…if you know what I mean.

That’s so sad, Lynda replied.

Very sad, Vincent chimed in rejoining them.

I promised my mother before she died that if I ever got the chance, I’d come to Pearl Harbor, pay Uncle Walter my respects.

My dad was too young for the war, Lynda explained. His family came to Michigan from Pennsylvania looking for work-they ended up at the Willow Run Plant building Liberator Bombers for the War.

That so? Larry listened intently.

She continued. He always told us kids the only good thing that came out of that war was keeping him out of the coal mines back in Pittsburgh.

Larry glanced at her left hand; she knew he noticed the thin gold band. Your husband here with you? He glanced around the crowd of tourists, then back at her.

She hesitated, despite having rehearsed her lie a number of times, deciding she wasn’t going to mention she was a widow, tired of the awkwardness when people she met didn’t know what to say, or they said too much; so she made up a story about Mike giving her this trip for her birthday. She smiled at Larry hoping her face wasn’t turning red. "Well that’s a long story, first he told me this trip was my birthday gift, but then I realized he was bribing me so he could go hunting out west with his buddies.

Really? Larry asked, with an astonished look on his face.

Photography is my hobby, he always ends up following me around on vacations while I go off the beaten path… she faked a laugh, … it drives him crazy. So, here I am standing in seventy-five-degree weather while he’s freezing his butt off hunting for elk in Wyoming! She faked another laugh, Guess that makes me a hunting widow. She didn’t want anyone to know that she really was a hunting widow. She quickly turned toward Vincent. How about you? You going on the Pearl Harbor tour?

Yes, I am. Are we all staying at the same hotel? he asked, looking first at Larry, then at Lynda.

We’re at the Hyatt. Larry replied.

The small women with the large camera yelled, Larry! motioning her husband over.

Larry spoke to them over his shoulder as he walked away. See you two back at the van.

What about you? Vincent asked.

Yes, I’m at the Hyatt. She answered, pointing to their tour guide. Looks like Al is heading back down. She hurried to catch up.

CHAPTER

3

Saturday, January 24

10:00 am

Brick and rookie Officer Derek Hall arrived at the run-down apartment building in the Mayor Wright Housing Development. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hung in the air as they walked up stairs littered with cigarette butts, knocking on the door to Apartment 9. They entered, explaining the reason for their visit.

I’m sorry, Susie. Brick watched day-old mascara run down her face.

Oh my God, Detective, who would do that to Joey? she sobbed, slumped on the well-worn couch in the small, shabby apartment.

Was she home last night? Brick asked.

No, she didn’t come home at all. Susie dug a crumpled tissue out of the pocket of her tattered robe, wiping her nose.

Do you know where she was?

We were hanging out at Spats, last I saw her.

Isn’t Spats a little out of your league? He knew Susie was a hooker, but thought better of mentioning it.

We been going there sometimes on Friday nights—not doing anything wrong, Detective… Just having a good time. She blew her nose into the tissue.

"Did Joey hang out with anyone in particular? Anyone the two of you might have worked with in the past?" He chose his words carefully.

There was lots of people there—tourists, locals. We was all dancing, having a good time.

Did you and Joey leave together?

No, she left before me. I didn’t want to leave, so I told her I’d catch her at home later.

Did you notice if she left with anyone?

She walked out with some woman.

Did you know the woman? Brick watched her hands shaking, reaching for a pack of cigarettes and lighter on the coffee table in front of her.

No. Susie’s lip quivered as she tried to hold a cigarette between her lips, giving up she started to bawl again.

Could you describe her to me?

I…didn’t get a good look at her. It’s kinda dark in there. She hiccupped, wiping her blotchy face. She might’ve been a tourist for all I know.

He reached for his wallet, Here’s my card. Call me if you remember anything unusual about last night, okay? He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Susie reached for the card, collapsing back onto the worn-out couch, her head in her hands.

CHAPTER

4

Sunday, January 18

Six days before Joey’s murder

Lynda woke up groggy Sunday morning, trying to adjust to the time change and jet lag. She hadn’t known what to expect when she booked this trip, since she’d never traveled alone.

On a Sunday morning last fall, she wandered through the travel section of the Detroit Free Press, when her eye caught a special for a round-trip airfare, lodging, and a seven-day tour to Oahu for a price she could afford. She sat staring out her kitchen window at the color of the leaves changing in the trees, dreading another long, cold winter alone.

The shock was gone, the denial was over, but what she was most afraid of was the acceptance stage, knowing if she accepted that Mike was truly gone, it would mean she was alone for the first time in her life.

His clothes were still hanging on his side of the closet. She found herself standing in the bathroom holding his cologne to her nose; closing her eyes, hoping he’d be waiting for her in bed.

Her friends had been trying to fix her up on dates, telling her it was time to move on, but she was stuck in a kind of grief limbo.

She felt numb the first year Mike was gone, but now, going into the second year without him, the numbness was wearing off.

Her dad and brothers wouldn’t be thrilled; but she impulsively booked the trip, feeling excited for the first time in months.

The small Navy boat ferried the group of tourists to the site of the USS Arizona. Lynda noticed the crowd become somber as the memeorial came into view. It was long, white and tubular shaped with large open windows on both sides and above. The only sound was the American flag flapping in the wind as they quietly disembarked.

On the memorial she leaned over the railing, watching small oil slicks bubbling up from the hull of the sunken ship. Vincent joined her, whispering, They look like small round rainbows don’t they?

Staring down at the rusted smoke stack still jutting up from the water she whispered, It’s amazing something so awful could happen in such a beautiful place.

A secure opening in the floor of the memorial was situated over the sunken deck of the ship. Vincent and Lynda watched Barbara hold her arm protectively around her husband’s waist while he gently dropped orchids into the water. He was visibly shaken. Earlier he described his feelings of despair, as a twelve year old boy, watching his