Page 2 of Shark Cove

Bunuelos stood up. “No, we were just finishing up. Lei, have you met our newest detective, Harry Clark?”

“You look familiar, but I don’t believe so.” Lei advanced, her hand out. “Sergeant Lei Texeira, Homicide.” Clark’s grip was cool and strong; her honey-brown eyes and angular face still seemed familiar. “Have we worked a case together?”

Clark winked and smiled. “As a matter of fact, we have, Lei. About sixteen years ago.”

Lei stepped back, her brows snapping together. “Harriet Vierra? That Harry?”

“The very same.”

Lei swallowed as her throat went dry. She had a history with this woman—a history that came back in traumatic flashes of memory now and again, the stuff of nightmares and bogeymen under the bed. Her mind buzzed with questions, none of which she could ask in front of their eager audience.

Torufu was the first to break the awkward silence. “Sixteen years ago . . . that would put you both at about legal drinking age. I wouldn’t have minded meeting you girls back then.”

“I’d love to hear that story!” Bunuelos chimed in.

Clark grinned. “A girl’s got to keep some secrets, right, Lei?”

“Right.” Lei felt wobbly, ambushed, and a little bit terrified. “We’ll have to catch up sometime.”

“Yep, but now is not the time or place. See you around the office!” Clark sashayed off.

Lei turned to stare after her, watching the brunette enter one of the cubicles on the other side of the room. “She’s working in Vice?” Lei’s voice cracked on a high note.

“Harry and her partner, Pai Opunui, just got promoted to Homicide; she came over to pick our brains about it. She transferred here from Oahu about a year ago. She’s got a good reputation.” One of Bunuelos’s eyebrows quirked up in question. “Spill, Texeira. Did you party together back in the day?”

Best to fend off more questions with a version of the truth, rather than stoke her friends’ curiosity with secretiveness.

“As a matter of fact, we did,” Lei said. “One crazy, unforgettable week down in Mexico. But I haven’t seen Harry since. I’m just surprised to see her again, especially as a detective—and no, I’m not telling you why.” She waggled a finger at their loud groans. “On a bummer note, I came to bring you an updated file on the latest missing girl.” Lei removed a folder from under her arm and handed it to Bunuelos. “I just interviewed Stacey Emmitt’s parents and searched her room—they don’t have a clue what might have happened to her on her way home from school. I’m not happy there’s another girl gone, when we hadn’t made any progress on the one before. Stacey’s details are in the folder.”

“I hate this case.” Bunuelos’s mouth tightened; he was a proud and protective father of five. “Who knows what’s happening to these poor kids.”

“Those ‘kids’ have reached the age of being totally freakin’ annoying to their parents and the community in general.” Torufu swiveled his chair back and forth, beefy fingertips forming a triangle that echoed the tattoos running down his ripped forearms. “Every time I haul in some brat for tagging walls, ripping off cars, or panhandling, I remember why CJ and I decided not to have kids.” The thick gold wedding band on Torufu’s finger was still shiny; he and their station’s chief, Captain CJ Omura, had recently married.

Lei shook her head, smiling. She had two children at home and, like Bunuelos, loved her rich family life. “Thankfully, we haven’t had to cross the teenage hormone bridge yet, though our son is not far from that milestone.” She sobered. “I’ll be in touch after you read Emmitt’s file and we can set up a case review to make sure we’ve got everything covered and divided up.”

“Got it. I’ll pass this on to Abe after I read your notes.” Bunuelos was already studying the folder, topped by a school photo of fifteen-year-old Stacey that the parents had provided.

Lei waved to the guys and headed for the elevator. Her gaze flicked over to Harry Clark’s office in the corner of the room. Whatever had happened to the woman’s adopted daughter, Malia?

The baby they’d found in Mexico during that “crazy week” they’d spent together would be about the same age of the missing victims—maybe now was a good time to warn Clark about the disappearances.

Lei changed direction and headed for Clark’s cubicle. She rapped on the thin, hollow-core wooden door that gave an illusion of privacy in a network of open-ceilinged modules. “Come in!” a woman’s voice called.

Lei opened the door and peered around it. Pai Opunui, a lean, shaggy-haired Hawaiian man she knew from a few cases, sat across from Clark. “Hey, Pai! Can I get a private word with Harry?”

Opunui stood up. “Perfect timing. I needed to refresh my coffee anyway.” He picked up his MPD mug and left, brushing past Lei.

Lei slipped inside and shut the door, sitting on Opunui’s still-warm seat. She met the brunette woman’s light brown eyes. “I want to tell you about the case I’m working on.”

“I thought you might want to talk about ouroriginalcase.” Harry reached for a silver-framed photo set near her computer monitor, turning it toward Lei. Inside the frame, two young girls smiled. The older one was dark-haired, brown-eyed, with tawny skin and a curvy build. The younger, almost the same height, had rippling light brown hair, hazel eyes and a freckled nose. “Malia, who you met as a baby, is on the right. The one on the left is my biological daughter, Kylie.”

Lei took the frame into her hands to look at the picture more closely. “They’re beautiful!”

Harry leaned back in her chair, smiling. “They’re my reason to get up in the morning.”

Lei glanced at Harry’s left hand—no ring. “Not married? Your last name didn’t used to be Clark.”

Raw pain showed on Harry’s face for a moment as her full mouth turned down. She shrugged, a fake-casual movement. “My husband left us about a year ago. He’s a lawyer and lives in California now.”

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