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My heart leaps into my throat, and I feel my palms go clammy.
And then, suddenly, there they are. Willow darts past a camera, shrieking with laughter without a stitch of clothing on her. Clara is close behind her, reaching out with one hand and clutching a towel in the other.
“Get back here, you little nudist!”
I burst out laughing before I can catch myself. I’m not going to tell Clara about the cameras, at least not now that Willow has officially streaked past at least four of them. Seems like the woman has her hands full as it is.
Something in my chest squeezes tight. It whispers,We need to go back,and other annoying, tempting suggestions.
I shake my head. No—I have to see this through. This can’t be a wasted trip.
It’s not long before I’m at the Migration Services building. If my hunch is correct, they will have records of American immigrants dating back at least ten years or so. Helen Cooper may not be Helen Cooper anymore, but she was when she moved here.
And how many American medical examiners could be living on the island, anyway?
“None” is the answer I’m given at the front desk. The receptionist sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have anyone by that name in our database.”
“That’s impossible.” I drum my fingers on the counter as I try to think of a new angle. “Helen Cooper was from Las Vegas. She would have arrived around ten years ago.”
He shrugs with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. Frankly, I wouldn’t be able to tell you if we did.”
I sigh as well. I’m starting to feel like I’m chasing a ghost.
“Except…”
I whip my head up. “Except?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I can’t?—”
Like before at the fish shop, I pull out a wad of local cash and wave it under his nose.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
“I’m just trying to help us come to a mutual understanding.”
“Americans,” he mutters under his breath. “Keep your money. And don’t let the others see you flashing that around.” He casts his gaze around the room, where several local police are chatting and generally scanning the place. “I can’t help you. But I can tell you that sometimes, people find it easier to do a layover in Hawaii before going full-push. Spend a few years there, reinvent themselves…”
“Change their names.”
He shrugs. “It’s possible. It happens. This is just speculation, of course.”
“Of course.”
Of fucking course. It’s brilliant, really. Hawaii is still an American state, so she wouldn’t have needed a passport to get there. And after a year or two living as a resident, she’d be able to legally change her name, establish the new identity with a Hawaiian address, then order a new passport and get the hell out of Dodge.
Which only cements the need to find her. For someone, anyone, to go throughthatmuch effort to flee the Las Vegas Police Department?
Something went seriously wrong.
I thank the clerk for his time and not-so-accidentally “forget” a few of the bills on his counter.
“Pav,” I bark into my phone as I charge out.
“What’s up?”
I squint in the tropical sun and duck beneath a coconut tree for some shade while I call Stateside. “I might have a lead. I need you to do some digging for me. You might have to rope Bambi into this one.”
“Ooh, I do love a good challenge. Hit me.”
