Page 69 of Shark Cove

“No! Stop! You can’t take her!” Malia jumped to her feet. “I won’t let you!”

“Sorry, miss. We’re just here to transport Camille William to the psychiatric side for observation and stabilization,” one of the men said soothingly.

“No!” Malia threw herself bodily over Camille. She grabbed the red button attached to the frame and pressed it repeatedly. They tried to grab Malia; she fought and kicked, screaming, “Fire! Fire!” Her mom had told her nothing got people moving to help like a cry of ‘fire.’

The two men pried Malia, still screaming “Fire! Help!” off Camille, just as her dad appeared in the doorway.

“Let go of my daughter!” Peter yelled.

This gave Malia a second to lunge over and pull the fire alarm on the wall.

The hospital corridor erupted in flashing lights and beeping noises, and the two attendants let go of Malia, shaking their heads.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” one of them said. “We’re calling security.” They rolled the gurney back out.

“You might have bought a little time, but it seems as if, according to Dr. Gelanno, he might be justified in trying to put Camille in psychiatric care. He says his assessment has nothing to do with Regina William. Camille’s been trying to hurt herself.” Peter held up one of Camille’s bandaged wrists.

“She’s traumatized and grief-stricken because her dad was murdered. Putting her in a padded room and shooting her up with drugs is terrible! She needs familiar places and loving people to get over this!” Malia gulped back a sob, hugging her unresponsive friend. “Let’s take her home to our house!”

The door opened, and this time it held two uniformed security guards.

“We need to clear the room,” one of them said. “And you need to come with us, young lady. Pulling a hospital fire alarm under false pretenses is a police matter.”

Peter Clark took out his wallet and handed the security guy his card. “This is my client, Camille William, and this is my daughter, Malia, her best friend. She got a little hysterical finding out that Camille is going to psych. Her mother is a police detective. We will certainly deal with her behavior at home.”

“Afraid that’s not good enough,” the security guard said. Malia looked frantically at her dad as, one on each side, the men took hold of her arms.

“Don’t fight. Go with them.” Her dad squeezed her shoulder as he met Malia’s frightened eyes. “We’ll handle this legally, the right way. I’ll stay with Camille and keep her safe.”

Peter already had his phone out, calling someone, as Malia shut her eyes and went limp, dropping to the ground, making the men drag her down the hallway.

The security men took her in the elevator down a couple floors and pushed her into a small conference room with nothing in it but a table, chairs, and a trash can. One wall held a whiteboard and pen.

“What are you doing with me?” Malia cried, but they just walked out. Malia heard the door locking.

She sat down at the table, then got up and paced. It felt weird and awful to be trapped in here with nothing to do and no way to communicate. She hadn’t realized how seldom in her life that had happened to her; and she flashed to the missing girls’ ordeals. “Oh, Camille. How can they be doing this to you?”

Malia mentally scrabbled over her options—there were none. She tried the door handle.Locked.

She’d write out her concerns about what Camille had told her with the erasable marker on the whiteboard for something to do; maybe someone would read it.

Malia wrote out all her suspicions and what had led to her rescue of Camille.

It took a long time.

Standing back to look at the board, holding the pen in her hand, Malia felt better somehow. Hopefully, someone would read it before they scrubbed it off.

She sat down at the table and leaned her head on her folded arms, exhausted by the drama. She must have dozed off because she woke up to the sound of the door unlocking.

Detective Harry Clark stood in the opening. Her mom looked pale but resolute, her jaw set. “Malia, for goodness’ sake! Can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes?”

“They’re taking Camille to psych!” Malia wailed. “Her mom’s having her committed to an institution!”

Harry held up a finger to the security guards in the hall, entered the room, and shut the door. Out of view of the little glass panel in the door, she pulled Malia close and spoke quietly into her ear.

“You couldn’t reach me because I was in the interview room with Regina William. A witness we found turned on her, bargaining with us by telling us that Regina tried to set Leonard up by inciting Camille’s kidnapping. Phone records to a burner we found in her possession confirm this. She’s been arrested for conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and medical child abuse. She won’t be making any decisions about Camille’s welfare anytime soon.”

Malia hugged her mom desperately tight, tears flooding her eyes. “But what’s going to happen to Camille now?”

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