Page 11

CHAPTER 11

Teller didn’t have any problem chasing down answers as to why a teen had felt so trapped he’d committed suicide, but only after they found the person bent on terrorizing Sachie. Whoever it was must have known about the teen’s suicide and was tapping into her inevitable nightmares to scare her even more.

But why?

He hoped to get the answers soon. With Swede working the internet, he might be able to learn more about the people who’d publicly threatened Sachie at some point. But while they waited for word from him, they’d do some of their own sleuthing.

Sachie gave him directions to the Hawaii Police Department .

When they walked in, she asked to see Detective Mahalawai. The desk sergeant made a call. Moments later, they were shown into the inner sanctum of the department, weaving between desks to an office in the corner.

Though the door was closed, Sachie knocked on the doorframe.

A man in uniform swiveled in his desk chair and glanced up. “Sachie, come in, come in.” He rose and greeted her with a hug. “How are you?” His brow furrowed as he stared down at Sachie.

“I’m okay,” she said.

Teller wanted to tell the man that was a lie. She was being stalked and had almost been killed. In Teller’s books, that wasn’t okay. But he held his tongue. This was her sandbox, and people she knew and had worked with.

Sachie turned to Teller. “Jim, this is Teller Osgood. He works with the Brotherhood Protectors, an organization based on the Big Island. He’s prior service Army Delta Force, and he’s helping me with an investigation.”

“I’ve heard of them, but you’re the first one I’ve met.” He held out his hand to Teller. “Nice to meet you and thank you for your service.”

“Nice to meet you,” Teller said..

After the detective released Teller’s hand, he turned back to Sachie. “I’d heard you’d moved to the Big Island. What brings you back so soon?”

“The same reason I left,” she responded. “I thought I’d get away from whoever broke into my apartment in Honolulu by moving to the Big Island.”

Jim’s lips thinned. “Didn’t work, did it?”

“I don’t know if you get the reports from Hilo, but someone broke into my house the night before last. He was armed and fired at least three rounds.”

“Damn, Sachie.” The detective ran his gaze over her. “Are you all right? You weren’t hit, were you?”

She shook her head. “No, but Teller was while protecting me.”

Detective Mahalawai’s eyes rounded, his glance shifting to Teller.

Teller raised a hand. “Only a flesh wound.”

“Did you get a look at the perpetrator. Could you identify him?”

Sachie shook her head again. “No. And he didn’t stop at breaking into my house. My office in Hilo burned to the ground in the early hours of yesterday morning, and I was attacked by a drone while staying with a friend at Parkman Ranch. I need to find out who’s doing this and end it.”

The detective nodded. “Were they able to lift prints? Were any clues or messages left behind on any of those attacks? ”

“No prints, just like at my apartment here. But yes, on messages. I had a voicemail on my cell phone from an Unknown number stating, You failed me. Now you will pay . And You Failed Me keyed into the side of Teller’s SUV while we were dealing with the fire.”

“Have you done anything to anyone lately that would make them want to hurt you?” His lips twisted. “I’m sure there’s a long list of angry parents when you removed their children from their abusive homes. I’ll need names. And what about the kid who committed suicide? Did he have family or friends who might blame you? I’ll need their names as well. Have you had a breakup with an obsessive boyfriend who might be angry at being dumped?”

Sachie snorted. “No, on the boyfriend.” She handed the detective the names of the two people she’d noted from Dr. Janek’s patient database. “These two were parents of small children who’d been physically abused and moved into child protective services. They each swore they would get me.”

“But the message stating You Failed Me sounds more personal,” the detective said. “It’s more personal, like from someone you were counseling who didn’t benefit from your work with them.”

Sachie’s brow furrowed.

Teller could almost guess who Sachie thought of first. She didn’t need someone to tell her she’d failed Luke. But he was dead. He couldn’t be sending those messages. If the harassment was revenge for allowing Luke to go through with the suicide, they had to find someone who had cared enough about the teen to blame the last person who saw him alive for allowing him to successfully kill himself.

All the more reason to dig into Luke’s family and friends.

Teller’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

While Sachie briefed the detective on her reasons for pulling the names she had, Teller checked his text messages.

Swede had already gotten a hit on those names Teller had given him.

When Teller clicked on the link, he landed on a video of a woman screaming in a courtroom as a man was led out in a prison uniform and handcuffs. The man glared at the woman and glanced over his shoulder at someone else, who was out of range of the camera. He shouted something that sounded like, I’ll make you pay for this.

The woman, her hair in disarray, dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and gaunt like those poor souls who were strung out on drugs, screamed at the judge until he slammed down his gavel and called for order. She had to be forcibly removed from the courtroom by the bailiff. The article accompanying the video clip reported that the man, Travis Finkel, had been sentenced to two years in prison for child abuse. The woman, Candice Franklin, had her child officially remanded into the custody of Child Protective Services, as Ms. Franklin had been accused of neglect and endangering her child. She’d been determined unfit to care for the girl. The report was dated six months ago.

A moment later, another link appeared in a text message from Swede.

It was a link to a news article from a Hawaiian online news source, reporting the same woman, Candice Franklin, had been rushed to the hospital after her boyfriend, fresh out of prison after only serving six months of a two-year sentence for child abuse, had violated his parole, brutally attacked her and then disappeared. The police had issued an All-Points Bulletin for Travis Finkel, warning the public he was dangerous. The article was dated two weeks ago—around the same time Luke had shot himself and Sachie’s troubles had begun.

A man fresh out of prison might be interested in dishing out some payback for the ones responsible for putting him there, especially if he’d promised to do just that during his hearing.

Swede also sent the name, address and phone number of Finkel’s parole officer and the man’s grandmother, who lived on the opposite side of the island.

“We’ll check into these people,” the detective said.

Teller glanced up. “My contact says Travis Finkel was released from prison two weeks ago and has since put Candice Franklin in the hospital. You’ll have to find him before you can ask if he’s the one who has been targeting Ms. Moore because he’s since disappeared.”

The detective frowned. “I hadn’t heard, but I’ll be sure to let you know when we find him.”

Teller’s eyes narrowed. “Hopefully, before he finds Ms. Moore.”

Detective Mahalawai looked from Teller to Sachie. “Will you two be staying on Oahu?”

Sachie’s gaze met Teller’s. “We’ll be here until we determine who’s stalking me.”

Teller added, “And put a stop to his terror campaign against Ms. Moore.”

Mahalawai nodded. “I take it you’ll be looking into the potential suspects as well?”

Teller nodded.

“I’ll let you know what we find,” the detective said. “Please keep us informed on anything you uncover or names of other people you might suspect.”

“We will.” Sachie slipped her hand into the crook of Teller’s elbow. “Thank you for your time, Detective Mahalawai.”

Teller led Sachie back through the maze of desks to the exit.

Before they reached the exit, a police officer waved at them from across the room. “Sachie Moore, is that you?”

Sachie smiled and waited while the man made his way toward them. “Officer Roland, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has.” He shook her hand. “What was it? The case with the teen runaway who was reported missing?”

She nodded. “I think that was the one. What was it, almost two years ago?”

Roland nodded. “It’s good to see you. Are you still consulting for the Child Protective Services?”

Sachie shook her head. “No. I moved to another island. I’m only on Oahu for a brief stay.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure they miss you with all the work you did helping get kids out of bad situations.”

The officer frowned. “Did your move have anything to do with the teen who committed suicide?” The man shook his head. “That had to have been a traumatic experience.”

Sachie nodded, but didn’t respond .

“What makes a kid do something like that?” the officer asked. “Did he tell you what was bothering him?”

“He was a troubled you man. I thought he was on his way to getting his life together and then—” she waved her hand. “I was shocked.”

Roland touched her arm. “I’m sure you were. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m sorry it happened to him.” Sachie gave the officer a stiff smile. “I need to go. It was good to see you again.”

She turned and hurried toward the exit.

Once they were in the rental car, Teller reached across the console and took her hand without saying a word.

She didn’t pull free but covered both of their hands with her other hand. She sat staring at them for a long moment. “I guess I’m still too close to what happened. I’m fine one minute and a complete basket case seconds later.” She looked up with a weak smile. “But I didn’t come here to indulge in uncontrolled weeping. I came to find the bastard who won’t leave me the hell alone.”

With each word she spoke, she straightened a little more until she sat up with her shoulders back and chin held high.

She’d been through so much, and yet she wanted to see this quest through, even if it put her life in danger. The woman had guts.

Teller admired that in her. He squeezed her hand gently and pulled his free, placing it on the steering wheel.

Before he could ask where they were going next, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He dug it out and checked the sender. “It’s Swede again,” he said. “He looked up Scott Williams, expecting to find him in Hawaii’s main prison, the Halawa Correctional Facility. He wasn’t there. He was released over a month ago after serving half of his sentence and completing behavioral counseling to learn to control his anger. He’s living in a halfway house. Swede sent the address.” He glanced up from his cell phone. “Do you want to let the detective know about Williams?”

“Yes,” Sachie said. “But maybe not until we have a chance to check him out first.”

Teller shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking space in front of the station. “So, we’re going to the halfway house first?”

Sachie nodded. “We don’t have to confront the man. We could ask the house manager if any of the residents broke curfew the night before last. If they can prove Williams was here during that time, it takes him out of the suspect pool.”

Playing devil’s advocate, Teller pointed out, “For doing the job himself. What if he hired someone else to follow you to the Big Island?”

Sachie’s lips twisted. “That would be harder to prove.” Her eyes narrowed, and she touched a finger to her chin. “We could ask for his phone number. You said your guy, Swede, can tap into databases. Can he tap into his cell phone provider’s database and see the numbers coming in or going out, or track where he’s going or where he’s been?”

Teller’s brow dipped. “I’m not sure. But remember, we’re not cops. The house manager might not be willing to divulge that kind of personal information about a resident.”

“I can claim I’ve been assigned as his court-ordered counselor, and I want to get ahead of our sessions.”

“I’d think the court-ordered counselor would already have his number.”

She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. We can come up with something.”

“I’m not trying to be negative. I just want us to be prepared for pushback.”

“We’re here on Oahu, and we need to start somewhere.” Her chin set in a stubborn line. “Let’s get there and see what we’re up against.”

Teller nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Using the map application on his cell phone, he drove through the city streets, heading away from the tourist-crowded areas of Honolulu into the hills where the full-time residents who worked the resorts and businesses lived. In an older neighborhood with homes that probably dated back to the sixties and seventies, the directions brought them to their destination in front of a two-story house, the wood siding thick with many coats of paint, the steps up to the front porch worn in the middle.

Teller had to park a block away, as the house didn’t have a garage or carport, much less a driveway.

Sachie pulled her hair back, securing it in a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Ready?”

Teller gave her a mock salute. “I’m ready, detective.”

Her lips twisted. “If we happen to run into Mr. Williams, I’d rather he didn’t recognize me immediately.”

“I’m sure he won’t. You look like one of those real housewives of whatever city they’re in now, not the mild-mannered counselor who ruined an abusive father’s life.”

“Shut up,” she said, her lips quirking on the corners. “Let’s get this over with.” Wiping the smile off her face, she pushed open her door and stepped out onto the sidewalk .

Teller met her at the back of the sedan and walked with her to the halfway house. He didn’t knock. Instead, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Taking the lead, he went in first.

“Can I help you?” a male voice called out through the open door to the left.

“We hope so,” he answered and waited for Sachie to step in beside him.

She breezed past him with a friendly smile on her face, her hand held out to the man seated at a desk in what might once have been a sitting room. “Good morning, Mr....” She tipped her sunglasses downward and stared around the room as though looking for a nameplate.

“Mike Foster.” The man rose to his feet and shook her hand. “What can I do for you?”

Sachie shot a brief smile toward Teller. “I could tell you that I’m a representative of the federal prison regulatory board here to conduct a survey of halfway houses and their residents as part of a statewide effort to ensure our federal tax dollars are being spent wisely, but that would be a lie.”

Foster crossed his arms over his chest. “Strange way to start a conversation.”

“I know.” She took off her sunglasses and sighed. “It’s not in my nature to lie. It is, however, in my nature to get answers—especially when my life depends on it. I’m Sachie Moore. I’ve consulted with the Hawaii Police Department and Child Protective Services. One of my cases was a child beaten by his father...one of your residents recently released from prison. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve had my apartment broken into here in Honolulu, my cottage broken into when I moved to the Big Island and my new office there burned to the ground. I’ve received threats and even been attacked by a drone. I need to know who’s doing this and stop him.”

“And you think it might be one of our residents?” Foster motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat.” He waited until she sank into the chair before he settled into his seat behind the desk.

“I’m going through cases that ended up in court where the abusers’ parting words were a threat to me. Scott Williams was one of those. He was released recently, and I have to start somewhere.”

“What do you need to know?” Foster asked.

“Has he broken curfew in the past two weeks?” Teller asked.

“Mr. Williams works at a meat-packing plant. Either I or the other house manager is in contact with his supervisor to make sure he arrives on time and confirm what time he leaves the facility. He goes to work early in the morning and is off by noon. It’s not the usual arrangement for our residents to work an irregular shift like that, but it can be hard to place them in gainful employment with a felony record.”

“I can understand,” Sachie said.

“We know how long it should take for him to get to the facility, wait for a text from his supervisor when he arrives and record those times. He gets to work on time and gets back to the house on time unless he calls ahead to inform us that he’s going for a haircut or to the grocery store, which he will be doing today.”

“Did he work yesterday morning?” Sachie asked.

Foster ran his fingers across a computer keyboard and stared at the monitor. “No. He was off work that day.”

She frowned. “Was he here at the house during that time?”

The manager’s brow dipped in concentration. “Our records indicate he never left the house.”

“Did you or one of the other managers actually see him at all yesterday?” Teller asked.

Foster shook his head. “I wasn’t on duty yesterday. I could call my counterpart and ask if he has laid eyes on Williams. But he would’ve noted when he left and came in, if he actually left the building. There’s only one door they can use to enter or leave the house. The other is locked twenty-four-seven. ”

“Is there always someone at this desk?” Teller asked.

Foster nodded. “Yes.”

“What about bathroom or smoking breaks?”

“Well, we make exceptions for those. We aren’t meant to be a prison, but rather a transition from prison to regular life.” Foster leaned his elbows on the desk. “Look, I’ve only had a few conversations with Scott since he arrived. His records indicate he’s sober now and plans to stay that way. He also said he regrets what he did to his kid. He told me he’s going to work hard to prove to the court he can be a good parent so he can regain custody of the boy.”

“I really hope he is turning his life around,” Sachie said. “So many children would rather go back to a parent they know than to be passed around in the foster care system, even if they suffered some kind of abuse with that parent.”

“You say Mr. Williams is at work today?” Teller asked. “Did you record what time he left to go?”

Foster shook his head. “No. Bryan was on that shift. He would’ve made the entry.” He stared at the computer monitor, a frown denting his forehead. “Unfortunately, he didn’t record it this morning. I don’t know why I didn’t see that. Nor did he record the supervisor’s text.”

Teller tensed .

“I got here an hour ago and did get a call from Williams telling me he had an errand to run after he left work today, so he’d be later getting back than usual. Hold on.” Foster picked up his cell phone and placed a call. For a long moment, he listened without saying anything. “Bryan’s not answering. That’s not unusual. He’s probably sleeping since he had the night shift.” He placed another call. “Hello, this is Mike Foster. Is Scott Williams at work today? He is? Do you know what time he clocked in?” His brow furrowed. “Doesn’t he usually report in at four a.m.? I see.” He nodded. “No. I don’t need to speak to him. Just checking in. Thank you.” He ended the call. “Apparently, Williams wasn’t scheduled to work today but got called to fill in for someone who was going to be late. He arrived at eight and should get off at noon. I can’t explain why it wasn’t recorded, but he is at the plant now.”

“What plant is that?” Sachie asked.

“The one in Kapolei,” Foster said. “Are you going to pay him a visit out there?”

Sachie’s brow wrinkled. “Maybe. I’d like to ask him some questions, but I don’t want to get him in trouble with his boss. Does he take public transport, or does he drive his own vehicle?”

“A friend of his kept his car while he was in prison. It’s a gray sedan with a sticker of a turtle on the back windshield.”

Sachie rose from the chair and extended her hand. “Thank you for everything.”

“I hope you find the guy causing you problems,” he said and grimaced. “And I hope it’s not Williams. He seemed sincere about wanting to get his son back.”

“I hope it isn’t him as well,” Sachie said.

She led the way out of the house.

Teller pulled the door closed and descended the porch steps with Sachie.

She glanced back at the house and then ducked between the house and the one beside it.

“Where are you going?” Teller asked, hurrying to catch up.

“I just wanted to check something out.” She walked around the two-story building, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the house from every angle, making a complete circle around it.

Teller studied it as well. Nothing stood out until they rounded the other side, where a metal fire escape clung to the siding near the far corner next to a window.

“Think he might have slipped out a window and down the fire escape?” Teller studied the rusty metal. “Doesn’t look very sturdy.”

She shrugged. “It’s a possibility. ”

Once they were back in the rental car, Teller asked. “Where now?”

“Kapolei,” she said. “It’s on the other side of the airport from here.”

“Do you think he could’ve left the house undetected and had enough time to fly to the Big Island, do everything he did and still get back in time to go to work at eight in the morning?

“There are early flights from Hilo that could get him back in time,” she said. “And if he was home by noon the day before my cottage was broken into, he could’ve been on the Big Island the entire time, and the people at the halfway house wouldn’t have been any the wiser—seeing as they had no record of him going to work this morning.”