Page 3 of Shark Cove

“Oh, that must be hard.”

Harry nodded. “The girls have taken it badly. Particularly Kylie—she adored her dad. Malia and I . . . we’re still close.”

Lei set the photo frame down. “I thought I should tell you that Malia is the prime age for a ring of human traffickers that we think are operating in Hawaii. We’re coordinating efforts with the FBI on all four of the major islands since every county is experiencing the disappearance of teen girls, mostly runaways. Yesterday, a girl was snatched on her way home from school.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I heard about the runaways. How is it a homicide case, though?”

“We found a body—one of the runaways who disappeared washed up in Kahului harbor with restraint marks on her wrists a few months ago. Like I said, we suspect these girls are being trafficked. I just wanted to warn you—now’s a good time to keep a close eye on Malia, as well as Kylie.”

Harry frowned. “Why isn’t the case in the news?”

“We didn’t realize this was such a big problem until recently, but with this latest disappearance, a 15-year-old on her way home from school . . . the time’s come to go public. I’m bringing it up to Captain Omura in our next team meeting.”

The color had drained from Harry’s cheeks. “I guess human trafficking isn’t just happening in Mexico.” The experience they’d shared in Mexico lay between them—a dark secret Lei had done a good job of trying to forget.

Lei shook her head. “No. Unfortunately.”

“Well, my girls go to a private school, Paradise Preparatory Academy, and it has pretty good security. They take a bus to and from campus. Neither of them goes anywhere alone in the community, and their father and I have drilled stranger danger into their heads as well as self-defense techniques. I’m sure they’re as safe here as they would be anywhere.”

Lei stood up. “I just thought I should mention it, considering Malia is close to the age of the victims.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Hey, any chance you want to come by our house after work? You can meet the baby you first saw sixteen years ago and see how she’s grown up.”

Lei took her phone out of her pocket and checked it. “As a matter of fact, Icanstop by. My husband is picking our daughter up from preschool, and our son has a ride home from his soccer game with another mom. I can come by for a few minutes, sure, provided you don’t live too far away.”

“No. We are right up near Wailuku. Not far at all.”

“Then it’s a date. Give me your contact info.” Harry’s address and phone number were soon added to her contacts. “I’m looking forward to meeting both of your daughters.”

Malia hungher backpack on the hook on the wall, toed out of her shoes, and lined them up beneath it. She shrugged out of her favorite giant black hoodie, hanging it over the backpack. She still had some homework, but she’d get to it later after she checked the Wallflower texts and put some new things up on her secret gossip site.

Her sister Kylie had been dropped off earlier by a friend rather than riding the bus, and Malia spotted her backpack, thrown behind the couch. Muttering, she picked it up and hung it on the hook, then retrieved the eleven-year-old’s shoes, kicked across the room, and set them next to hers. If she didn’t, tomorrow morning would be awful with Kylie running around looking for missing items.

It wasn’t just that her little sister was messy—it was as if she shed everything when she reached home, peeling herself like a banana and leaving the skin for Malia to slip on.

“Kylie!” Malia hollered. No answer.

She found Kylie upstairs, lying in the middle of Mom’s bed, eating a bag of popcorn as the sixth grader watched a teen reality show.

“Did you hear me call you?”

“No.” Kylie shoved in another handful of popcorn, chewing, her cheeks bulging like a hamster’s—and she still looked way cuter than Malia would ever be.

Harry had adopted Malia in Mexico and married Peter Clark a year later. They’d thought their family complete until Kylie had come along, a total surprise. It had always given Malia a secret comfort that Kylie didn’t look like Harry; their mom had Hawaiian blood that showed up in olive skin, brown hair and bold features, and Malia looked more related to her than Kylie did.

What had Malia’s birth parents looked like? Who had she inherited her short stature and curvy build from? There was no one to ask; according to her mom, she’d been abandoned at an orphanage as an infant. Meanwhile, looking related to Harry saved a lot of the “I’m adopted” questions, while Kylie was the image of their good-looking dad.

“Homework before screens.” Malia turned the TV off. Kylie threw a handful of popcorn at her, scowling. “Have fun picking that up.” Malia turned and headed back downstairs.

Annoyed guilt, the usual feeling Kylie brought out in her, dogged her steps. It sucked to be saddled with babysitting a sister who’d been mopey and sassy ever since Dad left. No secret that Kylie was his favorite; she’d been devastated by his departure, and Malia shouldn’t have to pick up the pieces he’d left behind when her own heart was bruised.

Malia had caught her parents kissing or snuggling numerous times when she was younger—but after Harry was promoted to detective and often worked twelve or more hours a day, their parents had cooled down to roommate status. Dad got more and more into his spirituality, going on “juice cleanses” and “silence retreats” and practicing meditation on the deck outside their former house on Oahu, until finally, in the kind of well-planned lawyer move Peter Clark was known for, he’d filled two suitcases and left. Just weeks later, a packet of divorce papers had arrived in the mail.

Harry had been blindsided by the whole thing. She had refused to sign the papers. They’d fought bitterly on the phone. Malia still remembered overhearing her mom imploring. “I can’t raise the girls without you! Give me another chance. I’ll change my job if that’s what you want!”

But he hadn’t believed her, and in her heart of hearts, Malia didn’t either.

Harry loved her job. She ate, slept, and breathed law enforcement. Home and family were her retreat, her nest, her recharge station; she’d just taken them for granted a little too long.

---