Page 8 of Shark Cove

Lei’s face broke into an involuntary smile. She hadn’t seen her friend Marcella or her ex-partner Ken Yamada in months, and it was always a treat to work with them. After briefing SAC Waxman on the latest disappearance, Captain Omura expressed her desire to see some sort of curated announcement about the disappearances on the media. “We are working on that, in connection with the governor’s office,” Waxman assured her. “A press conference is scheduled for tomorrow, so island wide, young women can be on alert.”

“I’ll call Special Agent Scott ASAP to coordinate our efforts. Thank you, SAC Waxman. We look forward to solving this together.” Lei ended the call to the FBI cordially, then sat back in her chair after grabbing a malasada from the pink box. “I think we are finally going to get somewhere with this. Happy that Agents Marcella Scott and Ken Yamada will be assigned to the case. I can vouch for their effectiveness from our shared work in the past.”

Omura steepled her shiny nails. “Glad we will have the resources of the FBI, too, because I need to reassign Torufu and Bunuelos to the County Council murder.”

Lei opened her mouth, preparing to protest, but Omura held up a finger. “As you may know, Mayor Costales was asked to set up a committee tasked with developing ways to diversify the economy on Maui away from tourism, and to replace the sugar industry in the use of open lands. That committee’s work has been derailed by Councilman Agora’s recent hit-and-run death, and last night Councilwoman Tavares was found dead in her bed, cause unknown. Dr. Gregory’s preliminary review says it looks like a medication interaction accident, but I’m worried that there’s a trend here—someone doesn’t want anything but tourism driving our island’s economy.”

Lei frowned as both Torufu and Bunuelos burst out with protests about where they were on the case, and the need for boots on the ground finding the girls missing here on Maui.

A knock came from the door, interrupting the spirited discussion, and Detective Harry Clark stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I have some information I’d like to share with the team.”

Lei’s heart did a little skip of alarm at the sight of the other woman; clearly, Harry had not slept well. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her thick hair was every bit as rumpled as Lei’s. The life of a single mother, even with older kids, seemed to leave a bodily impression.

“Welcome, Detective Clark,” Captain Omura said. “You’re a good distraction right now. Have a seat and help yourself to something to eat. You look like you need a little nourishment.”

Harry smiled, but it was more of a twitch of her lips than positive emotion. “Thanks. No time for breakfast.” She grabbed a paper plate and helped herself. “I want to let the team know that my daughter is concerned because her best friend Camille is missing. Camille William is sixteen, right in the age range of disappearances that have been occurring. Camille wasn’t at home when she was supposed to be, and when I talked to her mother, Regina, she said that she arrived home from school because Camille’s phone was left on her desk. She left a note, though, and clothing is missing.” Harry paused to chomp down a malasada and chase it with a gulp of coffee.

“Sounds like a runaway, then,” Lei said. “Not that she won’t be in danger because of that.”

“Regina isn’t convinced that her daughter ran away, and neither is Malia, my daughter. She says, ‘Camille just isn’t the type.’” Harry paused to cram another malasada into her mouth, chewing rapidly. “I actually agree with Regina and my daughter; from what I know of Camille, running away is uncharacteristic. Malia says Camille would never go anywhere without telling her.” Harry picked up several skewers of fruit and slid their contents off the bamboo and onto her paper plate; she was fueling her body out of sheer necessity. Lei could relate to that style. “Anyway, I told Regina I would bring it up with the team and fast-track a missing person report for Camille if you agreed, Captain. But I didn’t let on to Ms. William that we had a pattern of missing girls on the island.”

Omura was typing rapidly on her laptop, her nails clicking like delicate castanets. “We just got off the phone with the FBI. They will be putting on a press conference to warn the public about what’s been going on with these disappearances, and then the cat will be out of the bag. I’m sorry to hear that another girl is missing for whatever reason, but we should be cautious in jumping to conclusions. If the girl left a note and her clothes were missing, then there’s a viable possibility she left on her own. She’s not necessarily one of our victims.”

“Being a runaway does put her at risk,” Lei injected. “I agree with Harry that we should treat her disappearance with urgency.”

“Yes.” Harry polished off her plate and wiped her fingertips with a paper napkin. “Lei told me yesterday to keep an eye on my daughters, who are in the age range to be targets, and I appreciated the heads-up, especially when I came home to hear about Camille.” She poured herself a clear plastic cup of water and chugged down a few gulps. “Camille is a beautiful girl. She is also from a wealthy and well-connected family, not that it helps at all in this situation.”

Omura frowned. “How well-connected?”

“Her mother is a successful art gallery owner, and her father is a shipping tycoon. Leonard William is also rumored to be an arms trafficker, though I don’t believe there has ever been an official investigation into his activities. Camille is their only daughter, and Regina is the type to shout her news from the rooftops. It would behoove us to get out in front of it.”

“Here we go with the racist, classist imbalance of law enforcement and the justice system,” Pono said, eyes narrowed. “No one has cared this much about local kid runaways getting nabbed.”

“I didn’t say all of that to perpetuate some racist double standard,” Harry snapped. “I’m half Hawaiian myself. My daughter Malia is Mexican, adopted at birth. I’m just telling you background that could be pertinent in moving forward.”

“And I appreciate the perspective,” Captain Omura said. “We need to have as much information as we can. I’d like you to work on this case with us, Detective Clark, and liaise with Lei and Pono about anything you need to know moving forward. Pai Opunui can pick up your current cases if it gets to be a full-time commitment.”

“I would appreciate you letting him know that,” Harry said. “He might not like getting left holding the bag on our current investigations.”

“Consider it done. Detective Clark, why don’t you meet with Lei to make an action plan to follow up on the situation with Camille William, then divide up who does what, since Bunuelos and Torufu are being reassigned. Lei oversees this investigation. You should also be aware that there are teams on each of the islands, and this case has now moved to the FBI level.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Harry’s voice vibrated with emotion. “I have a particular hatred for sex traffickers.”

Lei met her newly rediscovered friend’s beautiful, light brown eyes and nodded. “You and me both.”

Chapter Four

Malia wokeup the next morning with a crystal-clear intention:she was going to find out what had happened to Camille.

After their usual hurried morning routine, Harry left for the MPD and Malia tried Camille’s phone.

When her friend still didn’t answer, Malia grabbed one of Harry’s personalized notecards from her desk and forged a note from her mom for a dentist appointment. She changed, dressing for comfort in a tank top, shorts and sneakers. She threw her big black hoodie on to cover everything up.

Soon the bus, a sixteen-passenger van, dropped Malia and Kylie off at the gracious turnaround of Paradise Prep, and, after making sure her grumpy sister had headed off to the middle school area, Malia hurried into the main school office. She handed over the notecard to Mrs. Spelling, the front desk clerk, a papaya-shaped lady with pillowy hips and too-tight skirts in upholstery fabric. “I have to leave right after homeroom. Don’t know why Mom bothered to have me come in.”

Mrs. Spelling eyeballed Malia over half-glasses and nodded. “Okay. Who’s picking you up?”

“Mom—but she said she’s in a hurry. Can I just sign out now and meet her outside the gate?”

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