Page 13 of Shark Cove

“What? Lei had friends before me?” Lei could hear the dramatic sound of Marcella pretending to slap her forehead. “I thought Sophie and I were your only BFFs.”

“Hard to believe, but yes, I did have a few friends before I joined the police force. I lost touch with them, though.” Kelly, her college friend, flashed into Lei’s mind with her bright blue eyes, blonde hair, and fun-loving spirit. They’d lost contact after Lei moved to the Big Island, and though Lei had thought of her over the years, never so much as now, when she’d met Harry again. “I’m going to transfer all of my notes to you, so you can add it to your file.”

“That sounds good. I’ll wait to receive it.”

Lei said goodbye, then booted up her computer and sent documents from her case files to Marcella over a secure server. She powered down the computer and locked the office door, another security measure to prevent the kids accessing their work and the safe where she and Stevens stored their weapons. As she headed down the hall, she heard the low rumble of Stevens reading a chapter book to Kiet in the kids’ bedroom.

She peeked in from the door. Rosie, her eyes closed, lay on her back in her crib, one side lowered now that she was a big girl, and she could climb in and out. She was listening to the story too, a thumb in her mouth and her favorite quilt, made by her godmother Esther, drawn up under her chin. She’d need a bigger bed soon; they were considering bunks so the kids would have more play area.

Stevens lay on Kiet’s bed with their son, his dark head pillowed on Stevens’s shoulder, as Stevens read a sci-fi novel. Rosie usually fell asleep halfway through, but her vocabulary was advanced because of exposure to words like “propulsion” and “fission.”

Lei smiled as she headed into the kitchen to put away the leftover food. What would their life be like without their children? Quieter and more peaceful, that’s for sure, but she wouldn’t trade that for the laughter and joy the kids brought.

Child-free CJ Omura and Abe Torufu would be snuggled up on their couch with their French bulldog Pepe, probably watching some gruesome detective show with the volume up. “Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” Lei muttered as she portioned the leftovers into Tupperware for a quick lunch at the station the next day. “Instead, we have science fiction stories and picture books.”

She glanced out the back window to where her grandfather Soga’s tiny house took up a corner of their large yard. Her only remaining relative on her mother’s side had joined them two years ago, settling into their lives as if he had always been a part of it. Light from Grandfather’s reading lamp poured out one of the windows. Lei smiled to see his face for a moment before he turned the light out; the eighty-something man’s bedtime followed that of their children.

Lei entered the living room, pausing to pet Conan’s head, grateful she’d had the big male Rottweiler to ease the loss of her beloved Keiki when the old girl passed of age, her resting place marked by a petroglyph carving in a private corner of the yard.

Through the front windows, light still shone around the curtains of the little cottage where her father, Wayne Texeira, lived with his wife, Stevens’s mother Ellen. The two had fallen in love through shared, tumultuous life experiences and their bond as grandparents, and had settled happily in the vintage cottage surrounded by ti plants and red flowering hibiscus.

Now that Stevens’s brother Jared and his wife Kathy had married, too, everyone closest to Lei was settled, and that brought her a contented feeling. Lei turned off the living room lamp and headed for bed, filled with gratitude for the loving‘ohanathat surrounded them.

Chapter Six

“Malia,come help me with something in the garage,” Harry said that evening, after they finished the meatloaf dinner Kylie’d made with Malia’s help.

Malia followed her mom out and wasn’t surprised when they went to the screen door that opened into the seldom used, weedy backyard. Harry lit a cigarette and blew the smoke outside. “I wanted to tell you that Regina called me about Camille going missing, and I took the situation to Captain Omura. She gave me the green light to pursue it, because even if Camille ran away, that puts her at risk from these kidnappers.”

Malia spontaneously hugged her mom. “Thank you! I’m so glad you’ll be looking for her.” She met Harry’s eyes. “There’s something off with Regina William.”

“What makes you say that? She was distraught today, a very worried mom. Everything I would be, if you ran away.” Her mother’s eyes were suspiciously shiny as she gazed at Malia through a curl of smoke.

“There’s rat poison in Regina William’s bathroom,” Malia blurted. “And all sorts of pills.”

A long silence as Harry studied Malia. “When did you see that?”

“Last time I was over there.” Malia looked down and rubbed her toe in a chip in the cement floor. “Camille was taking a shower, and her mother was out. I was . . . curious.”

“Yeah, you love poking into people’s private things.” Harry narrowed her eyes. “You’ve always been curious.”

“Well, I was rocked when I saw that poison. Remember that time Camille got so sick and they found that ingredient in her stomach? Her mother said she was trying to commit suicide, but Camille swore she didn’t know how she could’ve eaten it—but ever since, I’ve noticed that she won’t eat at home.” Malia’s voice rose, her words pouring out in a rush. “I think Camille’s mom fed the poison to her! She does stuff to Camille to get her sick, and then she makes a drama about it, drags her to doctors, tries to make her ex pay more . . .”

“Could be Munchausen’s,” Harry turned to face the backyard, frowning. “That might fit. I’d have to have a lot more information.”

“I can get information for you,” Malia said. “And what’s Munchausen’s?”

“Nothing. Too soon. But when did you start wondering about Regina and Camille’s relationship?”

“From when we started being friends. I never liked how Camille’s mom was always trying to get her to do things to herself—beauty things.”

“No crime in that.”

“I know, but it’s weird, right? All that working out and tanning and waxing? And never asking Camille if she wanted to or needed any of that. Then, the rat poison thing. I thought at the time that Ms. William was just milking it, making like Camille was all disturbed to get back at Camille’s dad and make him pay for all the therapy and psychologists they brought in. But now, I think she did it to Camille herself. And maybe more stuff.” Malia flung up her hands in frustration. “Ms. William is a weirdo, Mom. A freak show. Botox on a sixteen-year-old? And she’s got Camille so brainwashed . . . Maybe Camille finally had enough.” Malia sat down on an overturned bucket as tears filled her eyes. “I think Ms. William did something to Camille.” Malia felt sick. The omission of how she’d come to her knowledge about Regina William rolled around in her gut, waiting for her to trip over it and land on her ass.

Harry put a hand on Malia’s shoulder and squeezed, comforting her. “Well, now that Camille’s disappearance is officially a case, I can’t talk about it with you anymore, honey. But thanks for this information; I’ll look into it. Keep me posted on anything more you hear around the community or at school. Now let’s go in and clean up the mess your sister made in the kitchen, before she thinks we’re the ones who ran off.”

Later that night,safely ensconced in her room, Malia typed in “Munchausen’s” and then its subtitle, Munchausen’s by proxy, on her laptop. On a medical site she found a paragraph that chilled her:“Munchausen by proxy syndrome (MBPS): relatively rare form of child abuse that involves the exaggeration or fabrication of illnesses or symptoms by a primary caretaker. Also known as ‘medical child abuse,’ MBPS was named after Baron von Munchausen, an 18th-century German dignitary known for making up stories about his travels and experiences to get attention. ‘By proxy’ indicates that a parent or other adult is fabricating or exaggerating symptoms in a child, not in himself or herself.”

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