Page 16 of Shark Cove

“I’m an equal opportunity slanderer,” Malia said.

“No. Hell, no. You’ve unfairly targeted me. Count the posts—my buddies and I have, and you’ve featured ‘the latest on Blake’ way more often than anybody else.”

“You’re clickbait.” Malia fiddled with the pepper spray. “I said I was sorry.”

“Because you’re supposedly Camille’s best friend, and she’d be upset if I turned you in, I won’t—but that site has to die. Like, now. Today.”

“Can we use the site to find Camille first? Let me show you something.” Malia’d brought her burner phone, and she opened the screen. “Twenty-seven new text messages since I last checked, all responding to Camille missing. Someone could know where she is.”

“Why wouldn’t we be the ones to know where she is, since we’re her best friends?” Blake’s breath was warm on Malia’s cheek as he turned to her.

Friends? Blake and Camille were a couple—he was certainly acting like they were.

Blake grabbed the phone out of her hand, clicked on the closest text. “‘Nomination of Shelly Okawa to go with Blake to prom.’ I bet this is twenty-six more stupid-ass votes.” And in a movement faster than Malia could track, he hurled the phone out the window into the dark trees of the overgrown vacant lot.

“No!” Malia cried. “You don’t know what you just did!”

“Phase one of Operation Wallflower Shutdown complete,” Blake said.

Malia jumped out of the car. “I have to find that phone! I’m using it to help find Camille!”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Blake said, and drove off.

Malia trudged back to the house to find a flashlight. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked Blake, Camille?” she muttered. “What other secrets were you hiding from me?”

There was no answer but the sound of wind in the java plum trees and the wail of a distant siren.

Chapter Seven

Lei followedDetective Harry Clark up the driveway to a Mediterranean style mansion in the exclusive Valley View Estates development the next morning. Regina William, a well-maintained blonde somewhere between forty and sixty, wearing an ice-blue satin robe with fuzzy white mink slippers, stood in the entranceway. “It took you long enough to come to interview me,” she snapped at Harry.

Harry didn’t bat an eye. “Good to see you, too, Regina. MPD is not on your payroll.”

Clearly there was no love lost between these two mothers of teenaged best friends. Regina made a growling noise but stood aside, ignoring Lei. “Come sit in the living room.”

Lei entered behind Harry. She glanced around at lustrous wood and terra-cotta tile in the downstairs area; a shining staircase swooped up to a second level of the house. Harry took the lead and followed Ms. William into a sunken lounge area decorated in shades of cream, overlooking a stunning view of Iao Valley’s sculpted green slopes.

“I don’t believe I introduced Sergeant Leilani Texeira to you; she’s heading up your daughter’s missing person case,” Harry said.

Regina nodded to Lei, her tone warming slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sergeant. Would you two like some coffee?”

“None for me, thank you.” Lei sat down on an overstuffed suede couch.

“I’ll take some, thanks, Regina,” Harry said. “May I smoke?”

“Yes to coffee, no to smoking in my house,” Regina said, and whisked out of the room into a separate kitchen area.

Harry turned to Lei. “Fancy place she’s got. This is the first time I’ve been inside, though Malia practically lives here. According to my daughter, Regina did well in her divorce from Leonard William.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing this view every day,” Lei said.

Regina returned and handed Harry a porcelain cup of plain black coffee. “What is being done to find my daughter?” She aimed her question at Lei.

“First, we have some questions for you about the timeline of Camille’s disappearance,” Harry said. “Tell us about her day.”

Lei let Harry take charge of the interview, curious to watch her friend at work.

They established when and where Camille had last been seen—at school before she drove herself home. Regina handed Harry a note in a creamy envelope. “This is definitely my daughter’s handwriting, though I can’t emphasize enough that I don’t believe she ran away.”

---