The Lava Witch, page 17
“Exactly what I’m thinking.” He looked at her. “I also think it might be good for you to have a change of scenery.”
“Paris? London?”
He grinned. “You wish. I want you out of here, yes—but I’m afraid it’s only going to be as far as O‘ahu. You’ve already talked to this kid and might be able to find him without spooking him. I want to get him back to Maui where we can track his movements more easily. And while you’re over there, see what kind of vibes you can pick up at the Wela Wela Cave.”
She nodded. “Okay. You want me to see if Larry Mahuka’s planning on taking his Cessna over to O‘ahu so I can catch a ride with him?”
“No need,” he said. “I know you aren’t crazy about flying, and since you’ve already been traumatized enough for one week, you’re expected on the afternoon ferry. And there’s a room reserved for you in Honolulu. You’re booked for two nights, but you can extend if necessary. I’ll have an officer stationed here during the day, and I’m going to spend the nights here on the boat while you’re gone.”
“Hilo will be thrilled.”
“He’ll have to sleep on the boat with me. I want it to look like your place is empty.”
“You just want to make sure no one takes a torch to your old tub.”
“True dat,” he said, glancing fondly toward the slope leading to where the Gingerfish rested in the water. “I already talked to your neighbors, and they’re going to let me keep my car—not the cruiser—parked over there at their house. With your Jeep gone, anyone wanting to cause you more grief might feel like they’ve got opportunity and an open invitation.”
A chill ran down her spine, thinking of the possibility of arriving home to find nothing left. The house was old, and small, and in need of multiple repairs, but every square inch of it held some precious memory, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it.
Walter seemed to intuit her thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Between me, Hilo, and your Icelandic strongman, we’ve got this under control.”
* * *
Kali made her way off the ferry at Honolulu Harbor’s Pier 19 and up toward the taxis that were queued along Kukahi Street. Walter had made her reservation at the Beach Gem Hotel close to the Diamond Head area, which had become the epicenter of the island’s growing homeless community. It was late in the day, so she unpacked the few belongings she’d brought, and went out to find something for dinner.
There was a small café open a few blocks from the hotel, and she went in and found a booth near the front windows. She’d lived in Honolulu for several years with Mike while they were both working on the municipal police force, but the city had never felt as comfortable to her as the greener, quieter landscape offered by Maui. She wanted to hear birdsong, not traffic. When her grandmother had left her the small house close to Hana, the move had seemed like the right one.
The café menu wasn’t extensive, but she ordered a grilled fish sandwich with macaroni salad and a glass of pineapple iced tea. Walter called while she was waiting for her food.
“I’m on the boat,” he said. “Your dog is sleeping on my bunk.”
“That’s because you don’t have a sofa onboard.”
“If you ever have kids, they’re going to be spoiled rotten.”
“I’m just going to have more dogs.”
Walter grunted. “How’s the hotel?”
“It’s fine. A little worn around the edges, but close to Diamond Head.”
“Are things as gnarly over there as I’ve heard?”
“I haven’t been over there yet. But I thought the Department of Land and Natural Resources did a big sweep about a year ago and cleared out most of the tents and cleaned up the debris.”
“They did. And it stayed clear for a couple of months—then the tents started popping up again. It’s a problem. There aren’t adequate facilities nearby to provide bathrooms and sanitary resources, so you can imagine the living conditions. If a virus or disease pops up in that kind of densely populated situation, keeping it under control is going to be impossible.”
“Well, if some of the population has been dispersed, it might make it easier to find Trey Carter.”
“Here’s hoping,” said Walter. “You’ve got a ride up there tomorrow. Officer Jennifer Kama from Vice is going to pick you up in the morning at the hotel and go up there with you.”
“I know her,” said Kali.
“She’s part of the team monitoring the meth network within the homeless communities.”
“How are the people there financing purchases?” asked Kali. “They can’t afford food, but there’s money for drugs?”
“Seems to be how it works. Think about the physical condition of confirmed, frequent users. Food is no longer a priority, let alone nutritious food.”
Across the line, Kali heard sudden barking in the background. She tensed. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Your dog,” said Walter.
“I hear him. What’s he barking at?”
“Bird. Some kind of petrel, I think. Hilo just dove off the side of the boat to see if he could catch it.”
She groaned inwardly, picturing the soaking wet dog shaking water all over the interior of Walter’s small cabin space.
“And did he?”
“Nah. Bird flew away. I think I heard it laughing.”
CHAPTER 28
Officer Jennifer Kama was standing by the hotel registration desk, chatting with one of the morning staff when Kali got off the elevator. Like Kali, she was dressed in worn jeans and an old shirt. Kali knew from the loose, oversized shirt that Jennifer was carrying a gun.
As Kali walked across the lobby and approached her, Jennifer turned away from the desk, meeting Kali in the middle of the lobby’s seating area.
“Good to see you, Kali,” she said.
“Same here.”
“I assume you’re up for a hike?” Jennifer looked down at Kali’s shoes, and nodded in approval. “Those should do. We’re heading up to Kapena Falls first. Some of the footing will be slick.”
“So much rain,” said Kali.
“Which means mudslides, of course.”
“And that means blocked roads, and traffic jams, and rental cars upside-down in ditches. Or worse.”
“Yeah,” said Jennifer. “You still driving that wreck of a Jeep with the giant dog riding shotgun?”
“I refuse to part with either one of them.”
“Well, you should have brought the Jeep with you.”
Jennifer had left her own vehicle, a small four-wheel-drive truck, parked under the hotel’s entrance portico. They set off on the road leading to the access point for the trail to the falls. Jennifer explained that she’d been brought up to speed on the situation on Maui, and that a description and photograph of Trey Carter had already been circulated. He’d been spotted on the CCTV camera at the passenger terminal wearing a large backpack and headed toward Nimitz Highway, presumably to hitch a ride. From that point, he’d disappeared.
Their route took them past the Foster Botanical Garden and Punchbowl Crater. They turned off the main road onto the Pali Highway. To their right was Pu‘u ‘Ualaka‘a State Park. A few miles along, Jennifer pulled over, and they struck out on the trail leading west across the Nu‘uanu Stream. By the time they’d been hiking for ten minutes or so, both were covered with mud spatters, and their hair had tangled in the wind.
Soon they saw encampments, and trash accumulated among the shrubs and trees. Just above the pool at the base of the falls, Kali could see four separate campsites. As they drew closer, a man and two women came into view, resting on sleeping bags spread out on a flat, rocky area. The women were talking, but fell silent as they caught sight of Kali and Jennifer.
One of them sat up.
“Hi,” said Kali. “We’re trying to find our friend’s campsite. Trey Carter—maybe you’ve seen him?”
“Don’t recognize the name,” said the woman, clearly suspicious.
“Well, this is what he looks like,” said Jennifer, pulling a sheet of paper out of the pocket of her jeans. It was folded, and she opened it up and held it in front of the woman and her companions.
“Nope,” said the woman who had already spoken.
The man watched them.
“What are you after?” he asked.
“Just Trey,” said Jennifer. “He promised us some stargazing.”
The other woman snorted. “I bet,” she said. “What are you really after?”
“A dry place to sleep,” said Kali. “I guess we’ll keep looking.”
“Yeah,” said Jennifer, her tone suggesting that she’d expected a little more camaraderie. “Thanks anyway.”
“So much for blending in,” muttered Jennifer. “Sometimes I think there’s a neon sign over my head that’s constantly blinking COP.”
They turned and followed the path to the falls that fed into Alapena Pool at its base. There was another campsite here, set into a small, clear area close to the edge of the rocky ledge above the cascading water. They could see an older man sitting on the rocks, his legs and feet dangling over the pool.
Jennifer pointed. “So this is a big part of the problem—why we have to keep clearing out these camps. A lot of these people are using the water to bathe in, and the whole area—including the pool below the falls—as a toilet. We’ve got big reservoirs up here, and the waters are becoming increasingly contaminated. A lot of experts are concerned about bacteria and viruses.”
“It’s not just here,” said Kali, gazing up at the man on the rocks. “It’s everywhere. Friends in California tell me stories about Los Angeles and San Francisco. And we’ve got a huge problem on Maui, too.”
They followed the path along the stream, heading south from the falls. There were several other campsites, but no one admitted to knowing anything about Trey Carter.
“I think we need better social programs,” said Jennifer, “but maybe trying a different approach from what we’ve done so far. Give people a better shelter—develop some of these countless empty retail spaces into living spaces.”
“Yes, but maybe the key is to also give people work. Something purposeful to do to help restore their sense of meaning and dignity. There are plenty of countries that offer paid work in exchange for simple, valuable labor, like keeping streets clean.”
Jennifer looked thoughtful. “I know. I don’t understand why communities aren’t trying that. I think it might actually work here.”
They’d gone for some way without seeing any more campsites, and Jennifer suggested that they head for the next location on Sand Island, which had a much larger population of displaced people. They made their way back to the truck. Retracing their route, they eventually turned southwest to find the access road to the island that skirted Ke‘ehi Harbor and led to Sand Island Recreation Area.
“These camps were cleared, too,” said Jennifer. She sighed. “Camping here was—and still is—illegal, but as you can see, we just don’t have the manpower to keep up with it.”
Again, they parked and headed toward the beach, where rows of ramshackle tents could be seen. The area was chaos: Bicycles, furniture, cooking equipment, and piles of trash were interspersed with makeshift tents, as well as tents that looked as though they’d come straight from a high-end camping outfitter.
They walked among groups of people who were gathered together, as well as numerous single individuals sitting, standing, or lying among the confusion. No one had seen Trey or remembered seeing anyone like him. Finally, they stopped in front of a woman with a small boy of five or so who was sitting beneath a tarp that had been stretched across a bent tent frame. The woman glared at them, muttering to them to go away and leave her alone, but the little boy reached out and took the printout of Trey’s picture from Jennifer’s outstretched hand. He studied it solemnly, then turned and pointed to the thick shrubs set back from the main beach.
“Sleeping man,” he said, his soft voice blurring the edges of the words.
“Thank you,” said Kali, smiling at him. She glanced at the woman, who looked away.
The boy stepped out from the shade of the tarp and watched as Kali and Jennifer navigated the crowded area, moving between a cooler and a collection of suitcases. They walked in the direction the child had indicated.
Kali could see the tip of a blue tent behind a clump of bushes. It looked like the same tent she’d seen on Maui. She stepped forward carefully, not wanting to scare Trey away if he was there.
Like before, she could see his long feet protruding from the opening of the tent, his body too tall to fit comfortably inside. And like before, the feet were bare and splayed apart, resting on the ground.
This time, however, there was no twitching. Kali moved closer and looked inside, then stepped back. She turned to Jennifer.
“It’s definitely him,” she said. “But he isn’t sleeping.”
CHAPTER 29
By the time Kali and Jennifer had made their way back to the parking area where they’d left the truck, Trey’s remains had been relegated to the care of Honolulu’s chief medical examiner.
A heavily foliaged area about twenty feet from the blue tent had revealed several large garbage bags containing a variety of paraphernalia that suggested someone had recently disposed of multiple items commonly used in the production of crystal meth. A hazardous materials response team was called in, confirming that the trash bags were filled with exactly that: used coffee filters, cat litter, funnels, salt, rubber gloves, and empty boxes of cold medication tablets.
There were also several empty gasoline cans, and because of the associated hazards, the area was cleared of people. As Kali and Jennifer were leaving, a large group of angry people had been assembled to be organized for transfer to a city shelter.
Kali saw the little boy standing next to his mother, who was arguing with a police official. The boy stood quietly, then turned to Kali and lifted one hand, waving shyly.
“Let’s talk to the mother and child before they leave,” said Kali. “The boy was close to the tent and saw Trey at some point, which is why he told us he was sleeping. He may have seen other people going in or out.”
“You go ahead. I need to get this area confined so that it’s not contaminated any more than it already has been.” She gazed around. “Lot of people here. Either someone knows that somebody was cooking meth, or they saw this debris being dumped here, possibly without realizing how dangerous it is. Our camera shots of Carter getting off the ferry showed he was wearing a large backpack, but if you think this is the same tent you saw on Maui, it’s unlikely he had room in his pack for anything else, like a portable lab.”
The two women regarded the black garbage bags glistening in the sun as it dipped in and out of the clouds racing overhead.
Jennifer’s concern seeped through into her face. “People find this trash on the sides of roads or in the parks, or in their rental units when they’re cleaning up after the renters have gone. Most of them have zero idea of how dangerous it is. Besides the explosive nature of the chemicals the meth chefs use, a lot of this stuff can even be radioactive.”
Kali nodded. “It’s being dumped all over the place.” She sighed and glanced over at the mother and little boy. She pulled out the detective’s shield that hung on a chain beneath her shirt. “Okay. I don’t think this will take long. Here’s hoping this poor kid is allowed to speak without his mother drowning him out.”
She walked over to the officer who was standing patiently as the boy’s mother continued to argue. She absolutely refused to join the other people who were heading to an area where small transport buses had been gathered to bring people into the city.
As Kali approached, she signaled to the officer that she wanted to speak privately with the woman. He nodded and stepped to one side with the child. Immediately, the woman turned her indignation on Kali.
“We’re not leaving,” she said. “They told me we have to leave everything here and go with them.” She looked at the meager possessions stacked in and around her shelter. “This is all we have in the world. I’m not leaving without it.”
“I understand,” said Kali. She recognized that the woman was simply distressed and frightened. “But I’ll need you to be quiet for a minute and listen to me.” She spoke evenly. “A man has been found dead very close to where you sleep. Your son might be able to help us figure out what happened, and it’s vital that you let him speak. Do you understand?”
The woman looked nervously at the blue tent, just visible from where they stood. Police had already taped off the area.
“I saw them carry him by,” said the woman, more quietly.
“Did you speak to him, or see anyone in or around his tent?”
“No.” The woman shook her head. “He just got here last night. He walked past us, carrying his stuff. He said hello to my son. He seemed . . . okay. You know, like a normal person. Not a serial killer that might shoot us all up in the night. I try to pay attention.”
“Your son might have walked over to talk to the boy in the tent at some point. Do you know if he did?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t think he did, but he was here by himself, playing, when I went to fill our water jugs this morning up near the public restrooms.”
“Will you allow me to ask him a few questions? It could be really important.”
The woman seemed deflated. “I guess so. I mean, if there’s something we can do to help.”
Kali gestured to the police officer, who walked over holding the small boy’s hand. The woman reached out and stroked the child’s hair.
“It’s okay for you to talk to this lady,” she said. “I’ll be right here with you.”
“Hi,” said Kali. “My name’s Kali. What’s yours?”
“Justin,” he said. “Are you a lady policeman?”
“I am,” she said. She knelt down slowly, so that he didn’t have to look up at her. “I was just wondering if you ever talked to that boy in the blue tent.”
Justin looked at Kali, his face serious. “He was asleep. I didn’t want to wake him up.”
