Page 45 of Shark Cove

“Let me run in and get my bag.” How could she turn this opportunity toward her search for Camille? Nothing occurred, but it would be good to be prepared in case it did. “I’ll be right back.”

Malia ran back into the house and upstairs, unplugging the burner phone and putting it in her purse. She grabbed her big black hoodie and pulled it on as she hurried back outside.

Dad frowned as she got into the driver’s side beside him. “Kind of hot for a sweatshirt.” It was still balmy, though clouds gathered on the mountains in a weather pattern usual for Maui.

“It’s a style thing.”

Dad pushed Malia’s sleeve back as she reached out to turn on the car. “Trying to hide something?”

Malia narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure Mom told you what’s been going on, but I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s not go there.”

Malia swiveled in her seat, carefully backing them down the driveway. Dad stayed silent as Malia mentally prepared to stop the car, get out and go to her room if he persisted trying to talk about her self-injury.

“Where do you want to drive to?” Dad finally said.

“I thought we could head into Wailuku town. Maybe we can get a coffee or something.”

They ended up at the coffee shop on Market Street, sandwiched in between the vintage Iao Theater and a pawn shop. Once they were seated at one of the outdoor tables and had their drinks in hand, Malia met Peter’s gaze. “Mom probably told you that I’ve been trying to find my friend Camille. She disappeared some days ago. Supposedly she’s at a fat camp somewhere in Idaho—that’s what her parents say, at least—but I don’t believe it.” Malia blew on her latte to cool it down.

“Why don’t you think so?” Dad sipped a cappuccino. Foam made a little mustache on his top lip. “Your mom told me your friend’s on a nine-day hike with no cell phones right now.”

“Yeah, supposedly. Her parents are acting squirrely. This is going to sound drastic, but I believe Ms. William has fed Camille poison to make her sick at least once, maybe more times than that.” Malia told him her concerns about Regina William. “One thing that could have happened is that Ms. William accidentally poisoned Camille too much, and Leonard is helping her cover up what happened while Camille gets better.” As she spoke the words, Malia felt the truth of them. This theory covered both Camille’s inability to communicate (except for that text, which was probably a hoax) and the strange sight of Camille’s parents, together. Maybe Camille was even on Leonard’s boat!

“Well, it seems like if you just wait and let the nine days she’s supposedly on this tech-free hike play out, the truth will emerge.” Dad’s intelligent eyes were on hers as he brushed a tendril of hair off her face.

Malia sat back, out of his reach, and pointed a finger at him. “You better not let us down.”

He sighed. “I don’t plan to. I’ve missed you, Malia. Why didn’t you come see me in California at Christmas? I loved having Kylie, but we both missed you.”

“And leave Mom all alone? Having to deal with Gram and her drinking?” Harry’s mom lived in Honolulu, and their annual holiday visit was something they all dreaded.

“I guess it wasn’t fair to put you in that position.”

“Why did you leave in the first place? And why did you do it the way you did? Not talking to us or giving us a chance?” The words burst out of her.

“Leaving wasn’t anything about you girls; it was about your mother and me, and the rut we were in. I needed more from our marriage—and your mother is married to the job. Still is, in fact.” Peter took too big a sip of his cappuccino, set it down hard, and coffee slopped into the saucer. “I thought you’d go on without me all right. I didn’t realize how much we all needed each other.”

Malia stood up. “Let’s get back on the road.”

Peter didn’t argue.

Malia decided to go up through the Valley View Estates as they drove out of Wailuku town. Her father made no objection; the discussion they’d had seemed to have put him in a dark mood, and he stared out the window silently as they drove past Camille’s house.

Malia blinked at the sight of Regina William’s SUV parked in the driveway. She never left the vehicle out unless she was leaving shortly; maybe she’d be gone in a few minutes, and Malia could do another search in the house for clues about Camille.

“You know what, Dad? My friend lives just up here.” Malia pointed to a lovely Asian-styled bungalow with a shiny new Beetle in the turnaround. “We need to talk about a big school project. Can you drop me off here and pick me up later?”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to wonder if the turn into this neighborhood was random after all,” he said.

“No, really, we have a project,” Malia said. “I didn’t know she’d be home but that’s her car.” It was amazing how good she was getting at lying.

“That’s fine, then.”

Malia pulled up at the bottom of the driveway. Dad got out and came around to the driver’s side. “Call me when you need a pickup. You know my number,” he said.

“Of course. Thanks, Dad.” Malia hugged him as a reward, feeling guilty, still unsure what she was going to do, and wishing Blake were with her with a sudden fierceness.

She watched Peter drive away, waving at his glance back in the rearview mirror. She turned and pretended to head up the driveway, then ducked behind the Beetle, glancing at the house—but nothing moved. She turned and trotted back down the driveway when the Focus was out of sight.

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