Page 32 of Hidden Falls

They took quick photos of all the boxes to make sure they were accounted for and headed to the ladder. Halfway up, Jenkins got out his phone and called for another backup unit and a detective from Internal Affairs to come to the scene.

Marcella was relieved. Temptation was a brutal mistress, and they were better safe than sorry. It was nice to see that Jenkins was of the same opinion.

They closed the hatch with no further discussion and moved on to inventory the boxes of pills on the tables—photographing the bags, scales, and other paraphernalia. Within a few minutes, another cruiser had pulled up, disgorging two other detectives from Vice, and a third, containing Captain Omura and her aide, arrived as well.

Marcella’s stomach hollowed with apprehension; she didn’t want to face the captain’s questions about Lei’s whereabouts. “We should go hit Paulson’s house now,” she whisper-shouted to Jenkins. “Make an excuse. I’ll meet you at your cruiser.” She slinked away out the back entrance.

She hadn’t seen this side of the building on their original approach; the wall butted up against another warehouse’s fence, but no vehicles were parked here, either. Paulson appeared to be keeping a low profile and using underage workers to package, and probably distribute, the product.

Marcella pep-stepped across the empty tarmac over to Jenkins’s cruiser. He hurried to join her within a few minutes. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“I saw how you slipped out the back, there, avoiding any questions about Lei,” Jenkins said. “I told the captain I was going to scoop up Paulson before he got word of the raid. Omura said, “what are you still doing here?”

“Good.”

“They’re all excited by the big discovery of cash down below as well as pounds of pills above. That’ll make some good numbers for the department and keep Omura too busy to wonder about Lei for a while.”

Marcella and Jenkins got into the cruiser, and Jenkins put on the light. They pulled out with a screech of rubber.

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Marcella had never driven through the congested traffic of downtown Kahului as fast as she did with “J-Boy” at the wheel in a cruiser with the flasher on.

He called for backup to join them but not immediately, and she was relieved about that. “We want to get eyeballs on the scene first,” he told her.

Jenkins had matured a lot from the brash young detective she’d met on Kauai years ago when they worked on the serial killer case that had brought her and Lei together for the first time.

They turned into an entrance marked by a berm planted with palms and ornamental flowers and an artificial waterfall tumbling down into a black lava stone pool with the community’s name,Tropical Terrace, picked out in raised bronze lettering; the exclusive development on the slopes of the West Maui Mountains above Wailuku was definitely upscale.

Jenkins barely braked as he made the turn, though he cut the siren and lights. He powered the cruiser up a fairly steep street with gracious homes on acre-sized lots along each side. The GPS directed them to make one more turn, and they pulled into a driveway barred by a high, locked wrought iron gate. “Dammit.”

“Good news is he will be stuck in there, if he’s inside,” Marcella said.

Jenkins pressed a button on the kiosk beside the gate. “Maui Police Department here on official business,” he barked. “Open the gate immediately.”

No response.

Jenkins hailed the house again.

Still no response.

“Call the fire department. They have override codes for all these kinds of things,” Marcella reminded him.

Jenkins swore irritably, but called using his dashboard radio, then moved the cruiser out of the way and onto the shoulder so the fire truck would have access to get the gate open for them.

Marcella got out of the cruiser, inspecting the high black metal fence surrounding the property. Each steel rod was topped with a decorative arrow, and most of the fence was hidden by enormous tropical monstera vines; they softened the metal with their large leaves while preventing visibility into the property.

“Way to make a security fence look like a pretty barrier. He’s gone to some trouble to try to blend with the neighbors, even though none of them have this kind of security.” Marcella walked up to the gate over the lush, well-trimmed grass, spotting a hidden entrance portal for foot traffic right beside the main car driveway gate.

Jenkins joined her. “Fire department’s on their way.”

“Look. There’s a pedestrian gate hidden here. They usually put one in the fence for gardeners and such.” Marcella slanted Jenkins a glance. “You still have those bolt cutters in the trunk, don’t you?”

“Sure do.” Jenkins spun and returned to the cruiser. In a moment he pinched the lock with the long-handled cutters and got through the metal. “Good eye, Special Agent.”

“Hopefully Paulson’s still here.”

They drew their weapons, pushed open the gate, and hurried up the sloping crushed stone driveway.

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