Page 47 of Shark Cove

Stevens put away Lei’s phone, and she pressed a little harder on the gas as they drove past Ho‘okipa, the famous surf and windsurfing spot. The early morning light was just striking the ocean as it came over the top of Haleakala, lighting the waves and surfers below, as they passed by. “I bet Jared’s out there,” Stevens said enviously. “My little bro has the best schedule as a firefighter.”

“Can’t disagree with that,” Lei said, “Though you could take a surf break anytime you want to log off.” She frowned, concentrating on the curve in the Hana Highway as it led past famous Mama’s Fish House Restaurant. “My money is on that little psychopath Avila to be at the front of this. He’s a deviant bastard.”

“Agreed,” Stevens said.

“Reminds me of our first case and Jeremy Ito, with those hair samples,” Lei said. “Ito took hair trophies, too.”

They exchanged another glance; Stevens set a hand on her leg and squeezed comfortingly. “Sometimes it’s the ones you don’t see coming that are the worst. I can just imagine those naïve teenaged girls going with Avila anywhere he asked them to.”

“We got Ito. We’ll get Avila too,” Lei swore. “I just hope Stacey Emmitt is still alive when we take him down.”

They soon pulled up at the Kahului station, and Lei ran into Harry as they were going in. “Harry! Good to see you. I want to catch you up on what’s been happening.”

Harry looked more put together than usual: her long thick hair was shiny and curled, and she was dressed in a red shirt and black jeans that made the most of her rangy figure and tawny skin. “Oh good. I had to take the morning off for personal family business. I’d love to hear what’s happening.”

“I just need a minute.” Lei tugged her friend into an empty cubicle and gave her a quick rundown. “Our highest priority is finding Keo Avila. We’re going to do interviews with the older guy we picked up at the warehouse, Keith Evenson, but I have a feeling he’s out of the loop for the most part, even though he has a connection to the Changs. He claims he’s being set up, and Avila would be the guy to do that.”

“Makes sense,” Harry said. “I don’t like that thing with the hair samples. Sick.”

“Nasty business.” Lei shivered. “How are your girls?”

A shadow crossed Harry’s light brown eyes. She looked down and rubbed her naked ring finger. “We’re having problems, actually. I had to take the morning off because my ex came into town so we could have a family meeting. Malia has gotten into some trouble.”

Lei frowned. “Oh no! Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Harry shrugged. “I doubt it, but thanks. That girl is way too nosy for her own good.”

“You know, we have some teenaged CIs. Maybe Malia could be one. She could keep an ear out for youth-related crime and keep us informed. It could be a way to redirect her curiosity.”

“I’ll think about it. Maybe talk it over with her dad. But the last thing we need to do is encourage Malia’s inquisitive side. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Said the pot, calling the kettle black.” Lei gave Harry a little punch in the shoulder. “Why do you think we became detectives?”

Chapter Twenty

Malia had never seenMs. William without makeup. The woman's face was almost gaunt, her skin grayish, and her usually vivid blue eyes must be contacts, because today those orbs were the tepid shade of a shallow wading pool.

“What are you doing at my house?” Ms. William frowned. A bulky black duffel bag rested beside her. She pushed it out of sight with her foot.

Tears welled in Malia’s eyes at the woman's harsh tone. “Ms. William, I know you've never liked me, but I’m just so worried about Camille. I miss her so much. Is there any way to get a hold of her? Just to encourage her?”

“No, there isn’t. I’m sure she's fine at Camp Willowslim, and it won't hurt her a bit to toughen up and lose a few pounds," Ms. William said, an eerie echo of Leonard William’s comments to Malia on the phone.

Malia's temper ignited. “You thought it would be easier if everyone who knows and loves Camille was freaked out because you pretended that she ran away?"

“I don't like your tone, young lady.” Ms. William straightened, angry color flooding her sallow face.

“And I don't like how you've been hurting Camille," Malia said, hands on her hips, eyes hot. "I'm onto you, you poisoning child abuser."

Ms. William’s mouth opened and closed. She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. “You get off my property this minute, or I'm calling the cops! Your mother won't be able to protect you from a slander charge!”

Malia backed up, feeling for the step behind her. “Know this, Regina William: whatever lies you've told everyone else, even my mom, I'm onto you. I'm going to do whatever I can to find and protect Camille, no matter what it takes." Malia turned and ran, hearing the front door slam behind her.

Malia ran to the end of the driveway and hid behind the neighbor's hedge, panting with rage—but her knees were also shaky with fright. Hopefully, Ms. William wouldn’t call the police.

No, she wouldn’t; the woman wouldn’t want more attention. Regina William was up to something, and Malia wasn't going to leave until she found out what.

“I hate her. I’m going to take her down,” Malia growled. She trotted back up the driveway and circled around the outside of the house, staying below the sight line of the windows, until she reached Ms. William’s office on the first floor.

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