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There’s just enough inflection for me to catch what she isn’t saying. “Yet,” I fill in. I do some considering of my own, reach a logical conclusion: “Your eighteenth birthday?”
“Given Mac’s profile, it’s important for everything to be perfectly proper.”
“Proper as in waiting to have sex with the barely legal girl who should be like a daughter to him?”
“My body, my choice.”
She states the words calmly. They still break my heart. The depth of naivety, of believing she’s the one making the decision, when someone older and smarter has been manipulating her all along. There’s a saying that the devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he didn’t exist. That’s what MacManus, like so many other abusers, has done—convinced his victim he’s not evil.
Between Keahi’s and Lea’s stories, I don’t know who to believe, but I know this much is true: MacManus is taking advantage of his position of power.
“I’m here for you,” I repeat to Lea, trying to drill into her the depth of my sincerity. “Keahi may have asked me to start this search, but I don’t work for the family; I work for the missing. I care about you.”
“There’s no need.”
“And yet, here I am.” I restart the UTV, resume our bouncing journey to the owner’s lodge. I need to think. She said versus she said. Both probably with some truth, and both probably with a few lies. Of all the pieces, the lies will be the most telling and what I need to figure out first.
Especially as Keahi Pierson has escaped from death row.
While my lifeline to the mainland, Victoria Twanow, is now at death’s door.
I AGREE WITH MacManus’s assessment: one way or another, Keahi will do her best to find him and Leilani. Given the difficulty of accessing this island, we should have some time to prepare. Except I have another troubling fact still to consider.
We pull up to the lodge, the freshly furnished front porch beckoning cheerfully. I don’t say a word as I lead Lea up the steps. I open the front door first, noticing she has no problem remaining tucked behind me as I make a brief inspection of the space. When I confirm all rooms are empty, Lea takes a hesitant step through the door and seems to eye the main room for herself before finally walking into the kitchen. She takes down a glass and fills it with water.
She doesn’t offer me one, a pointed reminder it’s time for me to go.
I have one last card to play. I gesture to the notepad tucked beside the refrigerator.
“Give me your phone number. If I learn anything about Keahi, I promise to contact you immediately.”
After a moment, Lea picks up the pen and complies.
At the last minute: “Anyone else I should contact? A friend from home? Someone to notify in case of emergency?”
Her expression is more unsettled, but once again, she jots down the info. I take the piece of paper from her, give a nod of acknowledgment.
“Hope you feel better soon.” Then I’m out the door, note still clutched in my hand. I wait till I’m back in the UTV before I dare to look at it. It’s not the information I care about. It’s how it’s written.
In small, precise lettering, so straight it might have been penned using a ruler.
In other words, the exact opposite of the large, childish script used for both the messages I’d seen signed by Leilani Pierson. Meaning someone else had authored those notes.
Who? To what end?
And where are they now?
Because I’d discovered the second note in this house. On this remote atoll.
One of the most inaccessible places on earth.
Which doesn’t matter, if the threat is already here.
CHAPTER 24
I PARK THE UTV AT THE rear of the mess hall, entering the kitchen with my mind a million miles away, and immediately come to a halt. There are three people now working the prep space, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to determine none of them are happy about it.
Trudy has a very large knife in her hands and is dicing carrots in a dazzling display of speed and force. Ann stands across from her at the giant mixer, where she’s dumping ingredients into the bowl in massive puffs of white flour. Both appear thin-lipped with barely contained fury.
