The Island Project: A Thriller (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

HAWAII BELT

14 OCTOBER, 9:15 A.M.

An expanse of black lava rock flashed past Detective Lee from the windows on both sides as he drove up the belt. White coral rock peppered the landscape along the highway and provided a sharp contrast from the blanket of black along the road. The locals use the white coral pieces as a means of temporary graffiti—lining their names and the names of their special someone along the road. 

Joe + Malia,
was written inside a large coral heart shape.
ALOHA K + W
, done neatly in large letters.

Lee pulled off the highway and drove inland another ten miles along a jeep access road. The bumpy path bordered the northern perimeter of the Hilo Forest Reserve and ended at Mana Rd. Lee turned right on Mana and followed it a few miles until he spotted a gated entryway snaking back into farmland.

He pulled onto the dirt driveway and parked his jeep next to an ambulance in front of the house. He stepped out and looked around. No press vans had arrived yet, just the ambulance and a few other cars—most likely family members. Lee noticed a heavily trafficked trail of footprints, freshly pressed into the mud. It led down a winding path. He followed the path down until it opened into some fruit fields. As he approached the bottom of the path he came across what was the obvious scene of the crime. There was a large taped-off area on the ground, zoned by the medics who had arrived first. A man’s body lay facedown in the mud, arms out to the side, and legs slightly bent outward. It appeared to be an older man. The first thing Lee noticed was how far the body was pressed into the ground—deep enough to create large folds of displaced mud around the entire body, similar to how a crater forms a mountainous range along its perimeter. Whatever had compressed the body into the ground had to have been heavy.

Lee snapped some photos making sure to detail the scene as it was. He laid out a small platform, which acted as a bridge to the body. It was a raised, foldable walkway with legs that reached down into the mud, stabilizing the bridge and suspending it above the ground. This contraption allowed for the body to be inspected without disturbing the surrounding terrain. Lee walked out and bent down to get a closer look.

The body was half submerged into the ground. Mud curled up around all sides of the body obstructing any view of the man’s face. It looked as if he had fallen from a high distance and embedded himself into the soft earth. A moment later Lee spotted a young paramedic walking by and flagged him over.

“Was this body moved?” Lee asked.

“No, we didn’t touch him. He was dead when we got here. We called it at ten thirty. Looks to have happened early morning, though,” the medic responded.

Lee moved in closer to the man’s mud-caked face. “And he was facedown when you found him? Just like this?” he asked.

The young medic nodded.

Lee snapped more photos—a close-up of the face plus some detailed shots of the positioning of the man’s limbs. Lee pulled out a ballpoint pen from his pocket and gently pulled back the collar of the man’s shirt. The skin revealed a round bruise between the man’s shoulders, along the spine. He lifted the shirt further and saw additional bruising.

“That’s an odd bruising pattern,” the medic observed.

Lee used his pen to pull up the backside of the man’s muddy shirt. The dark skin beneath the shirt revealed four round bruises—roughly three inches in diameter, about the size of silver dollars. The bruising was concentrated to the areas of impact but each one was accompanied by a dark ring, spreading outward. The pattern was fairly symmetrical leading Lee to believe that the impact happened all at once as opposed to resulting from multiple blows. His spine appeared to be crushed as well.

Lee scanned the body, his mind running through possible scenarios as to what could’ve caused the scene before him. The bruises indicated that he had received topical trauma, which had pressed him into the ground. That likely ruled out him falling from the sky. It was clear that forced impact had killed him. There were no signs of a struggle—which meant he was likely dead as soon as he hit the ground, if not before.

What could cause that kind of impact, though? It looked as if he had been run over by a car. However, Lee saw no visible tire tread marks of any kind around the body.

Lee stood up and began to look around. He scanned along the tree line and out over the rows of plants in the field. He walked along the direction from which the man had come, being careful to stay outside of the scene. The man’s footprints were still visible in the mud. The spacing between the footprints indicated long strides.

He was running—the man was chased.

Lee bent over close to the ground to get a better look at the prints. That’s when it stood out to him—right in front of his eyes. Clearly displayed in the mud along the man’s footprints was another set of prints. An arrangement of holes in a repeating configuration accompanied the man’s footprints, leading up from the pineapple fields.

Holes—about the same size as the bruises on the man’s back
.

Something that ran on all fours had chased the man.

Lee studied the oval-shaped prints. He couldn’t immediately identify them. He wasn’t an expert on animal tracks but he could point out the difference between the obvious ones. The first thing that came to mind was a boar. Boar hooves made holes. However each track was typically split into two distinct ovals, making up the hoof shape. This was a single oval. Like the shape a staff or post would make in the earth.

Something else didn’t add up. The stride was far too long and the pattern of holes didn’t match a boar’s step.

Cause of death was becoming clear, though. This man was chased, attacked and killed by a predator of some sort
.

Lee knew he needed to call it in. He snatched his phone from his pocket and dialed Chief Sullivan’s number. He heard the receiver pick up on the other end.

“What have we got?” Sullivan’s voice came through the line.

“You were right. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a murder.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” Sullivan asked.

“Still working that out, but this guy was chased by something.”

“Some—
thing
? You mean it wasn’t done by a human?” Sullivan’s tone seemed intrigued, almost excited.

“It doesn’t appear that way. I don’t want to make too many assumptions yet, and I know it sounds crazy, but I believe we are on the hunt for an animal,” Lee said.

Sullivan was quiet on the other line.

“A mauling? How about the wound? Can you make out what kind of animal from the wounds? Bites, rips or tears—that kind of thing?

“That’s the thing, Terry. There are no bite marks. The guy was crushed. Something really heavy or extremely powerful pancaked him.”

There was a brief pause on the line.

“What kind of
animal
on this island could kill a grown man, especially like that?” Sullivan thought as he asked the question. “A boar?”

“Not a boar. Whatever this thing is, it’s fast—faster than a boar, and longer. You should see the prints.”

Lee continued. “Terry, this thing, whatever it is—it runs like a cheetah. Of course…the prints don’t match any kind of cat, though.”

There was a quick pause on the line. They were both thinking.

“What in the world kind of animal would be on this island that fits that description?” asked Sullivan, clearly perplexed.

“Maybe what we’re looking for isn’t from here—maybe it was brought here.”

“Domesticated pets? You think someone brought in an animal from the port?

“Well, It’s clearly not domesticated yet,” answered Lee sarcastically.

“Far from it, but it could be a possibility. Even as a pet, what would do this though?

“I don’t know. You hear of celebrities owning tigers and exotic pets. We’ve got a handful of celebs living here on the island,” Lee said.

“Well at this point, we should explore any option we have. Not likely, but check it out.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll figure it out. I’m on it.” Lee replied in a confident voice.

Lee finished up the conversation with Chief Sullivan and continued to survey the scene. He was on to something big here. Lee had the feeling that he was scratching the surface of something much deeper. It was certainly unlike anything he had come across before.

Distant sounds of tires crackling on a dirt road signaled the approach of the oncoming legion of press vans. This was going to be big news for the island, and the crime scene was about to get overrun very quickly.

Lee had a lot of work to do. He couldn’t waste time.

CHAPTER 3

HAKALAU FOREST NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE

14 OCTOBER, 11:30 A.M.

Tom Bennett hiked beneath a dense canopy of green foliage spreading out for miles, protecting the endangered wildlife living below. The place was an untouched Eden. It was like stepping back in time and roaming among the animals—living among them.

They were everywhere.

The name of the protected Eden was the Hakalau Forest National Wildlife Refuge and Bennett was up to his ankles in mud at the moment. He walked north along a stream. Large, wet ferns along the bank forced him to walk in the water. He was thankful for his field boots at the moment, doing their job and keeping his feet dry. Bennett ducked under a downed tree, cleared it and found his footing on some mossy rocks on the other side. He continued moving steadily up the stream.

The sunlight filtered in through the dense tree canopy. White beams of light shone down through the thick, damp atmosphere. It was a climate exuding living things–amazingly scenic all around him. The colors of the plants, mixed with the wild coloring of the birds were a sight to behold. Rich greenery spread as far as the eye could see. Red, yellow, blue and orange birds danced in the branches above. It was nothing less than enchanting.

Bennett jumped to a bed of small pebbles lining the stream and stopped immediately. He froze. Staring straight ahead, he steadied himself and listened intently on the sounds all around him.

There it was again.
He heard it—at least he thought he had.

Bennett wasn’t necessarily accustomed to tracking his subjects like this. It was a hunt, and he was the hunter. He caught himself reverting to tactics in his mind ingrained there from military training years ago. Instinctively, he moved close to the bed of palms to his right, covering him from line of sight. The palm leaves provided adequate camouflage for him and he could still comfortably see through the opening between some bamboo shoots. This was as good a place as any.

He ducked down and waited.

There.
His eyes caught a flash of movement between the trees.

Bennett quietly reached into his case trying intently to avoid any noise from the components inside. He gripped the dark metal and began fitting the pieces together, snapping them carefully into place. He steadied his arms. His left elbow was braced against a mossy, fallen tree and the other arm was steadied with his finger gently caressing the trigger.

He focused the object in his cross hairs, making sure his shot was perfectly lined up. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

Click.

Three more.

Click…click, click.

He looked down at the LCD screen to make sure the shots were in focus. They were. Bennett adjusted the aperture down one f-stop. He fired off five more shots. The camera lens purred softly as he adjusted his position and fired off a few more frames. “
Perfect.”
Bennett thought to himself. The shots were exactly what he needed.

The crimson red feathers were coming through amazingly vibrant. The long, curved pink bill and distinctive black plumage on the feathers confirmed this was the right bird too.

It was an ‘I’iwi.

This bird, now endangered, was once a plentiful species that lived freely on all islands in Hawaii. Today, however, it was a rare occurrence to come across one of these brightly colored creatures anywhere. Bennett had successfully captured that rare occurrence.

Proof for the day,
he thought.

For the past five days, Bennett had been photographing various locations all over the island. He had been sent to Hawaii for work—if you could call hiking around a tropical playground “work”. Certainly, Hawaii was an ideal location. Bennett was enjoying his time there. It also helped that his expenses were fully funded.

Bennett was currently working as the Director of Photography for an upcoming nature film. A film backed by the largest commercial media company in the world and Bennett had landed the gig due to his extensive background in photography. He had been sent there to scout locations. Today’s findings had proven fruitful, and Bennett felt very confident about the location.

Tom Bennett was a professional. He was a photographer, and he was also a philanthropist of sorts. His work really allowed him to be both. Bennett had always been drawn to photography, however he developed his skill for shooting his subjects outside of any formal schooling.

He honed his skills on the battlefield.

Bennett joined the military when he was nineteen and chose the path of photography. He learned to document warfare in a highly visualized sense. He was able to capture the visceral grittiness of the battlefield, and his photos unfailingly exposed the heavy emotion that was ever-present in combat. It was this ability that set him apart from other photographers. He won multiple awards and experienced actual combat on many occasions. His work covering the invasion of Iraq in 2003, specifically his “Shock and Awe” photographs earned him
Military Photographer of the Year
, a highly respected title among the field. It was an amazing accomplishment for a twenty year old.

His time in the military provided many opportunities for him to see the world. He had been stationed in Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel, Uganda, Egypt and China. His time stationed in these places allowed him to study the people affected by regional warfare. After four years, he left the military and focused his photography in a commercial mode. A native of Southern California, Bennett opened a studio in Los Angeles and managed to work closely with some big Hollywood names. He worked hard and made a name for himself, eventually collecting a stable earning from his photography. Bennett himself became somewhat of a poster child for the industry, too, with his athletic build and natural, Cali-surfer good looks. He was featured on the cover of
Professional Photographer Magazine
in 2009 posed in a mock military battle scene. They had him sporting his military buffs and all. Bennett’s short military-length hair dripped with sweat and his strong jaw clenched as he clutched his camera in one hand and strong-armed an enemy soldier with the other. It was a ridiculously romanticized version of real warfare. Bennett later regretted doing it.

After a few years, he soon became tired with commercial life and yearned for adventure again. He missed the journeys brought by travel and decided to invest in expeditions of his own. He knew he wanted to help people; he knew that was his passion. When Bennett turned thirty, he made the life decision to return to the places he had seen through his military travels and go back to help rebuild the lives affected.

Bennett had been doing this for a few years now—travelling around, landing where he was needed. Spending time with a civilization, learning, helping—moving on. He found it hard staying in one place for too long. Because of this, he wasn’t able to cultivate much of a relationship with anyone either. He had had girlfriends—even a few serious ones. But none of them could keep up with his spontaneous nature. He liked to work alone, anyway—one with nature, and one with his work.

The ‘I’iwi flew off. The flash of scarlet now a fleeting encounter. However, Bennett had collected solid proof of the bird’s existence in the reserve. He had also shot some other rare creatures today. The Pueo Owl, the Indian Mongoose and what he thought was a Coqui Frog.

Bennett was confident that this was a prime location for filming. Due to the lean camera crew that would be on-site, they wouldn’t disturb the habitat either. They had made an agreement with the State of Hawaii Wildlife Preserve not to disturb any of the natural environment. Bennett was adamant about keeping this agreement.

Bennett screwed the lens cap back on his camera and placed it back into its case. He swung the bag across his shoulder and cinched the buckle tight against his chest. He checked the GPS on his phone. A blue dot popped up, showing Bennett exactly where he was—about three miles from the entrance to the reserve.

He still had a lot to cover today. In order to get it all in he would have to keep moving. Bennett started back down the stream, hopping over moss rocks when he remembered the waterfall he had seen on his hike in. If he left now he could swing by to scout it quickly on his way out…could be a great location for an opening scene.

Thump, thump, thump, thump…

A steady, thundering reverberation quickly began to close in—distant, then at once directly overhead.

Bennett looked up.

A white helicopter flew by. It was close enough to rustle the large branches in the trees overhead.

Hovering a bit close to the tree line
, Bennett thought.

The chopper continued on and eventually ducked out of site behind the tree canopy.

Bennett reached down and soaked his handkerchief in the stream. He tied it behind his neck and then started his hike out through the reserve.

ONE MILE AWAY, at a large research facility, a helicopter touched down on a landing pad. A tall man in a suit exited the helicopter and entered an access door leading inside a building.