Page 35 of Talk Story

Madison snorted. “We’re a locally based development company trying to bring some progress to this backwater. See that beautiful parking lot we created in Ohia? Built at our expense! Everything you’ve brought up is circumstantial.”

Pua’s gaze was fixed on Victor. “A version of this situation is still possible where you cooperate, and your attorneys negotiate something. You get a slap on the wrist the way rich guys do.” Her silver-streaked bob swung, catching the light. “And there’s another version, where you run and the cops have to chase you. It’s embarrassing to the family. It adds to the charges against you and makes everything worse. You’re a smart man, cousin. Choose what serves you better; know when to cut your losses.”

Victor already had his hat in his hands; he clapped it on his head and pushed away from the sideboard. “I’ve heard your pitch, Pua, and it’s a no for me. Come, Madison. We have business to take care of. So unless you’re making a citizen’s arrest, Ms. Smith, we’re leaving.”

I opened my mouth, wanting to yell at them to stop, that they were under arrest—but Victor Chang was right.

We didn’t have anything concrete tying them to . . . anything.

Madison stood up and smirked. The two brushed past us, walking through the dining room and out the door. A moment later we heard the roar of the big Escalade’s engine as it peeled out.

Pua slumped suddenly into a chair and dropped her face into her hands. “I tried,” she said. “I had to. They’re family.”

“You sure surprised me, showing up like that.” I patted her shoulder. “You made a solid attempt. What about the post office? What’d you do? Throw a closed sign on the door?”

“Yes. I overheard your phone call. I had to try to persuade Victor to turn himself in.”

“Meanwhile.” Pearl set aside her latest golden crane. “For a moment there, I thought Kat and Madison were going to shoot up my place like the O.K. Corral.”

“I’m not sure what Madison had in mind, pulling a gun on you,” I replied, “But it helped that mine was bigger.” I turned to Pua. “You said what needed to be said to someone who needed to hear it, even if he didn’t listen. That counts for something.”

“Yeah. That I’m a traitor to the Chang family.” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Not that it’s news to any of them.”

“But you’re true to yourself. And to our town,” Pearl said. “And I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

My phone buzzed on my hip; I tugged it out of my pocket and answered when I saw it was Lei. I put her on speaker. “You’ll never guess who tried to strong-arm Pearl, Lei.”

“You’ll have to catch me up later,” Lei said, her voice tinny with wind in the background. “I’m about to breach that warehouse in Kahului with my team. Want to watch the raid through my button cam to an app on your phone?”

“Heck yeah,” I yelled. “I want to be there!”

“Next best thing thanks to modern technology,” she said. “I’ll text you a link.”

“As long as Pua and Pearl get to watch too,” I said.

“Fine with me,” Lei said. “Let’s go get those petroglyphs!”

The call ended. I hurried to drag a chair over between Pua and Pearl. We gathered close around my phone, Pearl in her wheelchair, Pua and I seated too—and then my phone dinged with the incoming text. The raid on the storage facility was about to begin.

The video link from Lei’s button cam opened on a jolting, fish-eye camera view of a gravel lot baking under the Kahului sun. Pua, Pearl, and I leaned in over my phone, watching like gamblers cheering a horse they bet on coming around a turn.

“Turn it up,” Pearl commanded from her wheelchair. I thumbed the volume to its highest setting.

Lei’s button cam rode somewhere around sternum height, so the world tilted and swung with her stride: cracked asphalt, a chain-link fence sagging under a riot of bougainvillea, and ahead of her, the backs of four officers in tactical gear moving in a tight, practiced formation toward a corrugated metal warehouse the color of an old nickel. No signage; a roll-up bay door, rusted shut, with a man-sized steel entry point beside it marked with faded lettering and featuring a hasp and a heavy padlock.

“That’s the name of the shell company Sophie traced,” I murmured. “Pacific Heritage Collections.”

“Shh.” Pua had pulled her chair right up against mine. Her shoulder pressed against my arm; her knee was bouncing with nerves she’d never shown in front of her Chang cousins.

On-screen, the lead officer hammered a gloved fist against the steel door. Lei’s voice came through, raised with authority. “Maui Police Department! We have a warrant to search these premises. Open the door immediately.”

Nothing. Just the tick of heat on metal and, far away, the drone of an outbound jet climbing out of Kahului airport.

The officer pounded again. “Maui Police! We are serving a search warrant. Open up or we will force entry.”

Silence.

Lei’s cam swung as she stepped back and gestured. “Do it.”