Chapter One

Eight bucks for McDonald’s. Almost a grand to rent a room. But fenty came two for forty. Filled her up better than a Big Mac—kept her warm better than a roof over her head.

At least it was something.

Kaia Tetuanui used to tell herself every trick was her last. She’d stopped bullshitting herself with that lie over a year ago.

Now, anytime a car pulled up, windows down, “Hey, blondie,” her feet carried her to that man. She’d tell him she wasn’t naturally blond and ask if he wanted her to prove it. Laugh when he laughed.

Back in the day, Kaia was a “promising young artist,” to use her teacher’s words. She won an award. Painted the mural on the big wall at Thompson Middle School. The local paper ran an article about it. Mom didn’t give a shit. She was too drunk to notice. But Kaia stuck the article to the fridge, right between two menus for the same burger joint.

Half a block away, more girls lined up for johns. The tallest in the gaggle squawked with laughter. The short one snickered and did a little dance.

Kaia wondered how they were so carefree. Even on a good night, the street wasn’t safe. Especially lately, with the Dentist on the loose again. The news called him a “meticulous killer,” but Kaia knew he was a man like any other. He was just a creeper at heart, and she couldn’t wait for someone to finally best him.

She angled away from the other women, stepping out under the streetlight and turning toward downtown’s fading lights.

Chest out, head up. Maybe tonight really would be her last trick.

Brakes squealed as an old Ford pickup with rust spreading like cancer pulled up. The tall girl’s laugh rang out again, a flamingo squawk to match her awkward gait and gangly height. She approached the truck and climbed inside.

That would’ve been Kaia’s trick if she’d been willing to stick her neck out for it.

Guys always told her she was the prettiest one. Sometimes, all they wanted was to look or to touch her soft skin or to smell behind her neck. Coconut oil and hibiscus were enough to make any man drool. Especially the tourists who wanted a “real Hawaiian.”

Soon, Kaia was alone on the street. She pulled at her Daisy Dukes and crossed her arms.

Her phone said almost 9:30. Seventy-five degrees. But Kaia was already exhausted, and the island breeze gave her chicken skin.

“One more hour. Then I’m going home.” Kaia thumbed through the cash in her left pocket. Good enough for one fix. Good enough for tonight.

She took a deep breath, stepped into the street, and spread her arms wide. As she let them fall, she thought of that mural back at Thompson Middle.

Kaia had wanted to paint an image of a rainbow parting clouds, but the principal thought that wasn’t Hawaiian enough. He’d insisted on an enormous sea turtle swimming past a coral reef. Kaia had protested, but now, every time she drove past that turtle, she slowed a little. She loved that stupid thing.

Sometimes, like tonight, she felt a deep kinship with the animal. Kaia was also floating past beautiful things, just looking for her next meal, for a way to stick around one more hour, one more day, one more year.

Male sea turtles were born in the ocean, and they never left. Females left, but only to nest.

Tears burned Kaia’s eyes. She’d never known a nest. She’d never have one. Never have a reason to leave the ocean.

The girl who painted that mural had a future. This girl, this woman who traded sex for cash down on River Road, barely had a tomorrow.

Every now and then, Kaia got the strangest feeling. Almost like she could go back. Like she could flip a switch, and she’d be that little girl again, able to make new choices and live a different life.

The sensation was physical, like a hand gently guiding her toward a better path. But when she reached toward it, all she ever got was a handful of drugs.

A sedan pulled up beside her. No rust spots. Actually, it looked like it’d been washed recently.

Kaia wiped away a tear, as though she were fixing her makeup, and walked to the passenger side window. She was naturally tall, so she wore fresh white sneakers, not clear heels like the other girls, and more than a few guys had said they liked the kicks.

The man behind the wheel didn’t look like the usual desperate type. He was clean, like the car. She could smell his cologne—woody and earthy, but not too much.

“You working?”

She hit him with a look.

No. I love standing on River Road in shorts and a bikini top after dark. It’s my hobby.

He popped the door open, and she slid into the front seat.

“You’re pretty.”

“Thank you.” She tried to roll her window down but found it locked. “Can I—”

“No problem.”

As he accelerated, he hit a switch and lowered the window. The island breeze felt nice moving through her hair. In the right light, she could remember this as exciting. Just a moment in her life, riding in a clean car with the windows down.

She turned to him. “You lookin’ for full?”

“Just oral.”

She nodded. Would’ve been fine doing more with this guy. “I can do half and half for one fifty.”

“Just oral. Forty.”

His voice wasn’t aggressive, just no-nonsense. Like he wasn’t going to negotiate.

Soon, downtown’s lights disappeared in the rearview. Then they pulled onto Kamehameha Highway, pitch black except for the headlights.

She let him get ten minutes outside of town before she spoke again. “There’s a shoulder coming up.” She gestured to the road. “Near the entrance to the botanical gardens.”

“Great minds.” He smirked and hit a pointless turn signal. Just like that, they’d parked. He placed a hand on her bare thigh. When he leaned close to her with parted lips, she pulled away an inch or two.

“Girlfriend experience is fifty extra.”

“One kiss.” His hand moved up her thigh as he kissed her neck.

He wasn’t the first guy who’d gotten away with more than they’d discussed, and he wouldn’t be the last. At least he wasn’t gross, and she needed the money, so she let it happen. A little kissing, a little oral, and she’d have enough cash to—

He grabbed her hair and smashed her face into the dashboard. Blood sprayed from her nose. Flecked the windshield. He smashed her face against the dash again.

The impact sent shockwaves through her skull, and she heard a bone crack inside her face. Warm wetness flowed down her throat, and she gagged on the taste.

Kaia pulled at the door handle. Locked. She lunged out the half-open window. The man grabbed her hair and pulled her back.

Spinning around, she pushed her back against the door and kicked him. He twisted her leg, and she screamed as her sneaker flew into the back seat.

His fingers were rough on her legs as he clawed at her.

“Get the fuck off me!”

He said nothing. Just climbed out of the car and rounded toward her side.

This was her chance.

Kaia unlocked the passenger door and shot outside. Her toe caught on a rock, and she thudded onto her stomach.

Before she could push back to her feet, he was on top of her. With a knee pressed into her back, he grabbed her hair and smashed her face against the ground twice. Each impact tore her cheek, driving gravel into her flesh.

She coughed blood. It ran up her face and into her eyes, blurring her vision as he flipped her to face him.

Her head lolled as if it were no longer connected to her body. Blood pooled in the back of her throat, bubbling with each desperate gasp.

He pried her mouth open, grinning. “Look at those perfect teeth.”

Warm piss trickled down her thigh as she realized who he was. The Dentist.

But she didn’t care who the hell he was. She wouldn’t let him finish her.

Kaia was going to be an artist again. Travel back in time to middle school. Nothing bad would happen if she could just—

He gripped her neck, increasing the pressure little by little until she thought her brain would explode.

She kept struggling, but he was heavier than she was. Stronger. His fingers dug into her scalp, tearing her hair from the roots as she thrashed beneath him.

A cracking sound exploded from her twisted neck.

And then…silence. The night would keep Kaia’s secret.

For now.

Chapter Two

Special Agent Olympia Smith straightened her ponytail and approached the police tape, bracing for a new horror in a growing string of tragedies.

SSA Fryman had called less than an hour ago. Fourth dead sex worker in as many weeks. Same missing-tooth signature on each. Honolulu PD wanted the Bureau looped in to get it solved, and fast.

At twenty-four, Olympia was the youngest agent in the Honolulu field office, though she knew fatigue and weariness already showed in her eyes.

A childhood shuttled through seven foster homes across Hawaii had taught Olympia to observe everything and trust nothing. Despite her above-average height, naturally soft features made her physically unintimidating. People often underestimated her, though few repeated that mistake.

From the pedestrian side of the police tape, a bald man moved nervously as he snapped photos with a professional-grade camera. Before Olympia could get close to him, a local cop approached and asked for her ID.

She flashed her badge. “Special Agent Olympia Smith. FBI.”

The cop shifted his stance, and his voice cracked on his reply. “Oh. Um. Cool. Hi.”

Olympia was barely older than the officer, but after years in the system and the grind of her first case—wrapped only hours ago—she felt like a battle-tested elder by comparison.

“Did you just say ‘cool?’” She added a smile to soften the insult.

He swallowed hard. “S-sorry. I’ve never met an FBI agent before. I’m Brian. Um, Officer Gallagher.”

“Good to meet you, Officer.”

She refrained from asking Officer Gallagher if he was too scared to carry on a conversation with a real live special agent, partially because she was trying to be nice, but also because she worried he might say yes.

“Why don’t you catch me up here?”

“Dead body.” His expression soured. “Young woman. Gruesome scene.”

“Who called it in?”

“A couple out for a romantic drive. They pulled over at this cut-in, probably to get even more romantic, and almost ran over the victim.”

Olympia looked over Gallagher’s shoulder. A young woman in shorts and a bikini top lay exposed under bright investigation lights. “Sex worker?”

“It’s sad, but the answer is almost definitely yes.” Special Agent Cody Madison strode toward Olympia from the roadside, tucking his keys into his pants pocket.

At twenty-nine, Cody carried himself with the assurance of someone who’d never had to question his place in the world. Six-two with close-cropped dark hair and warm brown eyes, he cut an impressive figure in his tailored suit.

Cody was one of few biracial agents in the Honolulu Field Office. He stood out not just for his commanding presence but also because he was the son of retired Executive Assistant Director Gregory Madison II.

Where Olympia had clawed her way into the Bureau, Cody had taken a different path—a Yale economics degree followed by three lucrative but soul-crushing years on Wall Street before finally answering the patriotic call in his blood.

Despite his privilege, he was no nepo baby riding his father’s coattails. He’d proven himself a capable agent with sharp enough instincts to occasionally impress even Olympia.

“I think this is a record.” Cody kept his eyebrows raised. “New case so soon after the last one.”

“SSA Fryman doesn’t want to waste my talents for a single second.” Olympia didn’t take her eyes off the dead body. “Not sure why you’re here, though.”

Officer Gallagher laughed. But Cody hit him with a don’t laugh at that look, and the guy shut up immediately.

Olympia and Cody’s partnership was new, but beneath their verbal sparring was a growing respect. Olympia admired Cody’s natural investigative instincts despite his silver-spoon upbringing, and he seemed to value her work ethic and determination.

At least, that was what she liked to think.

“Gallagher. Are we clear to enter the crime scene?” Cody deepened his voice just to address the young cop.

Olympia glanced away so she could roll her eyes in private. Boys will be boys.

The guy stood tall. “All clear, Boss. Officer. Agent. Sir.”

Cody laughed as he accepted booties and gloves from a nearby tech. Olympia did the same, still with one eye on the victim about ten yards away.

“Don’t tell me you already have thoughts on this.” Cody leaned on a fence post to pull his booties on. “You got here three minutes before I did.”

“The moment I don’t have thoughts is the moment you need to rush me to the hospital.” She leaned beside him and put her own booties on. “I’m thinking this poor girl didn’t make it all the way out here on foot.”

“So you’re looking for tire tracks.”

Olympia nodded. “I saw a faint set near the body. We’ll have to get closer, but—”

“Yo!” Cody flagged down a tech. “You grab casts of those tracks yet?”

“Already ahead of you.” The tech grinned. “The tracks are unique, actually. Looks like different treads between the front right and the other three.”

Before Cody could reply, Officer Gallagher reentered the conversation with fast steps and even wider eyes.

“Um, excuse me?” He cleared his throat. “Important update.”

“Don’t say ‘important update.’ Just deliver the update.” Cody appeared to enjoy messing with the young cop. Olympia couldn’t blame him. Poor little fella hadn’t even learned to shave yet, and here he was at a murder scene.

“My partner, by the body over there. Officer Halsey? She identified the victim as a local sex worker she’s had run-ins with…um, with whom she’s had run-ins. Kaia Tetuanui.”

“Officer Halsey!” Cody was already walking away without acknowledging the guy’s contribution.

Olympia hung back. “This makes four murdered women in the past few weeks, right?”

Gallagher cleared his throat. “That’s right. Looks like the Dentist is back. You…you remember him?”

“That’s why we’re here.” Olympia exhaled. “And yeah. I’m from here. I remember.”

Olympia fought off a shudder. She’d only been eight years old when the Dentist claimed his first victim. Her foster mother had made it all about herself, drinking and crying through the night like the killer was coming for her next.

“He got, like, a dozen sex workers back in 2005.” Gallagher swallowed hard. “Ripped a tooth out of each of ’em.”

“There were four victims. And it was 2009.” Olympia remembered it well. She glanced over at Cody, Officer Halsey, and Tyler Vega, who now stood beside them.

Olympia hadn’t met Tyler in person, but she’d seen him around the Bureau. His rolled-up sleeves and shaggy, dark-blond waves contrasted with Cody’s buttoned-up appearance. And she could see signs of Tyler’s years as a college running back as he squatted beside the dead body for a closer look.

Tyler had been working for the FBI’s Organized Crime Division across the islands, looking into a prostitution ring and its intersection with human trafficking from Hawaii to the mainland and overseas. She’d expected him to beat her to the scene, but she was a fast driver.

Officer Halsey drifted away as Olympia joined Cody and Tyler by the victim.

The men stood, and Tyler extended a hand. “Agent Smith, I’m—”

“Tyler Vega. Good to finally meet you.” Olympia winced as she took in the victim’s broken nose and shattered cheekbone. Dirt and gravel mixed with raw flesh like a disease. “What do you know about Kaia here?”

He cleared his throat. “Twenty-two. Honolulu native. Been working the streets since before she was legal, on and off.”

Cody sighed. “Drugs?”

“Fentanyl.”

Olympia thought back through her years in the system. All the schools she’d gone to. All the kids she’d met with fucked-up parents and fucked-up lives. Neither Kaia’s name nor her shattered face rang a bell, though.

Childhood hadn’t been easy for Olympia. In one of her foster placements, she’d lived next door to Special Agent Sarah Douglass, who’d set her on a path to the FBI. But she could have so easily lived a life just like Kaia. Could have died the same way too.

“M.E. already examined the body, right?” Olympia’s attention shifted between Cody and Tyler.

“Yes.” Tyler waved a thirtysomething woman toward them. “Dr. Kapule.”

The recent hire from Kauai tucked a notebook into her back pocket, pushing her sleeve up slightly to reveal a forearm crowded with swirling tribal tattoos. She gave Olympia a grim smile. “Thanks, Tyler, but we’ve met.”

Olympia shared a knowing smile as they shook hands. “Always under grim circumstances. Can you walk us through your findings?”

Dr. Kapule squatted beside the body, and they all followed suit.

The pathologist’s voice was quiet but steady as she described Kaia’s lacerations. The blunt force trauma to her head. Her snapped neck.

For a moment, Kaia was Olympia’s entire universe. Each pebble lodged in the girl’s cheek was a planet. Every freckle, a star. The rivers of dried blood running from her nose and into her mouth were the Milky Way and a black hole.

The gravel near the body showed signs of a struggle. But unlike Olympia’s previous case, this killer hadn’t staged his victim for display. Kaia had been left to rot like a half-eaten chicken wing on a city sidewalk.

Her legs were covered with scratches, and her neck was raw and mottled, bruises blooming like dark flowers where fingers had pressed too hard. A ragged bald patch at the back of her head exposed torn scalp and clotted blood, and her skull bore the sickening dents of repeated blunt force, bone crushed under the blow.

Dr. Kapule indicated an indentation on the side of Kaia’s head before gesturing down to her neck. “Looks like blunt force trauma finished off with strangulation before he broke her neck. Whoever did this killed her way past dead. This was pure rage.” She hesitated before continuing, even grimmer than before. “Upper left canine was removed postmortem. I can show you.”

Olympia wanted to protest. Entering Kaia’s mouth felt like a violation. But they needed firsthand observations. “Go ahead.”

The doctor slowly parted Kaia’s lips.

The smell hit first, coppery and sweet. Olympia didn’t flinch.

A dark smear of blood painted the gumline, and the space where the top left canine should’ve been was just a pocket of dark-red blood and tissue.

Cody took several photos before Dr. Kapule closed Kaia’s mouth.

Tyler cleared his throat. “The killer has been leaving jewelry, too, right? You find anything like that?”

Olympia shivered. Back in 2009, the Dentist just took a tooth and called it a day. But these new victims were each decorated with a piece of jewelry featuring a tooth. They hadn’t released that to the papers, hadn’t publicized it at all. “If this girl has something on her…”

“Then it’s almost definitely the same killer.” Cody finished her sentence.

Officer Gallagher stepped forward. “We…we didn’t see anything like that. But, um, there’s a lot of jewelry on the, um, body. So…yeah.”

Olympia scanned Kaia’s body. Puka shell necklace. Multicolored bangles on her wrist. An anklet made of tiny, uniform beads in various pale pinks and whites strung together on a thin cord. Between the minuscule beads hung a single human tooth, polished smooth and drilled to accommodate the cord.

“Tooth jewelry.” Cody leaned closer, photographing the accessory from multiple angles. “Just like the others.”

The tiny beads caught the harsh crime scene lights, their subtle luster standing out against the victim’s skin. The grotesque tooth pendant was even more disturbing by contrast.

Olympia’s throat tightened. She’d been hoping they were wrong, that they weren’t looking at another of the Dentist’s victims. But the anklet left little room for doubt, and everything about the scene said he’d strike again.

Somewhere on Oʻahu, the Dentist was already choosing his next victim.