Kowloon Bay

Her husband was killed three years ago. Now, he’s the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

Following the loss of her husband, FBI Agent Abby Kane sought solace by moving her family to San Francisco, hoping for a fresh start.

But, a return trip to Hong Kong unravels a shocking secret: Could her late husband have been a deadly killer?

This gripping thriller will keep you on the edge of your seat from start to finish.

Lester Wang muttered a slew of possible excuses before inhaling on the cigarette he held between his stubby fingers. The building demolition he was overseeing was two days behind schedule. On another job it might not have been a big deal, but the profit margins on this project were so thin that any sort of delay would easily affect the bottom line. As the foreman, he and he alone was responsible for keeping to the schedule.

The salty breeze that day kept most of Hong Kong at a steady seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit, even with the noon sun beating down on Victoria Harbor, creating a bed of glistening shingles on its surface. Wang stood alone on the most eastern end of the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront promenade, his eyes scanning the calm waters. 

He took another pull on his cigarette, cheeks caving inward, as he struggled to think of a creative way to make up the lost time. The puttering sound from the diesel-driven junks that shuttled passengers between Kowloon and Hong Kong Island filled the air. Add the squawking of gulls and the occasional shouting from fishermen on nearby boats, and Wang had a hard time concentrating on a solution. He gave his bald head a quick wipe with his hand and headed back to the job site.

Until then, demolition had moved steadily on the project, with the top five floors already having been leveled. No heavy machinery or swinging wrecking balls were used. Instead the building was being dismantled with the help of jackhammers, sledgehammers, and good old-fashioned manpower. The rhythmic thumping of the hammers against the slabs of concrete was reminiscent of chain gangs on train tracks. 

The developer of the project was due to arrive for an update, which is what had Wang on edge that day. Delivering bad news to the boss was never fun. He shouted at his men to keep up the pace, hoping somehow they would make up at least a day’s worth of work within the next few hours. Wishful thinking. 

* * *

A construction worker on the fifth floor dragged a jackhammer over to one of the few remaining load-bearing walls on that level. He lowered his noise-reduction earmuffs and angled the chisel point of the hammer into the seam where the wall met the floor. He widened his stance and braced himself before pushing down firmly against the machine’s handles. The steel tip chewed steadily, sending debris splintering in all directions until a portion of the wall collapsed. A large chunk, the size of a carry-on suitcase, broke free and tumbled off the edge of the building. It fell fifty feet and hit the soft dirt with a dull thump, nearly flattening another worker in the process.

The thin man yelped as he jumped back. Dressed in a blue long-sleeve T-shirt, faded jeans, black sneakers, and a yellow hard hat, he shook his fist at the man and shouted in Cantonese, “You trying to kill me?”

As he turned to walk away, something about the concrete chunk caught his eye. He bent down for a closer look and instantly fell back onto his hands, scurrying backward and nearly twisting his ankle in the process. Embedded in the concrete and staring back at him were two blackened eye sockets of a skull.

* * *

What is it now? Wang thought as he made his way over to the distraught worker, his small potbelly bouncing as he walked over the uneven ground. His cigarette still dangled from the corner of his mouth. “What’s going on? We have a schedule to meet,” he said, tapping at his bare wrist as if he were wearing a watch.

“Look for yourself. That’s a skeleton,” the young worker said defensively.

Wang let out a dismissive breath. He was used to the men coming up with asinine excuses to avoid working harder or longer hours. “What are you talking about? Huh? There’s nothing here.”

“Look closer,” the worker said, jabbing his forefinger.

Wang took a last pull on his cigarette before burying the butt into the dirt with the heel of his boot. He bent down and peered at the concrete chunk, lifting it slightly. His eyes squinted into thin slits. “No way. This is an animal. A dog. Get back to work.” He stood and brushed the concrete dust off his palms.

“Are you kidding? That’s someone’s head,” the confused worker said.

By then, other men on the site had gathered around the questionable chunk of concrete, each one voicing his own opinion of whether the skull was human or animal. It wasn’t until the jackhammer operator who had separated the piece of concrete from the building’s structure yelled from his perch above them that everyone fell silent. 

“He’s right!”

“You have an eagle eye?” Wang called out, clearly irritated with this unnecessary delay. Do they plan this crap or just make it up as they go? “You can’t see anything from there.”

“I don’t have to, because the rest of the body is up here in the wall.”