Page 12

CHAPTER 12

Teller drove out of the neighborhood and merged onto H1, heading west to Kapolei. By the time they reached the outskirts, it was nearly noon.

“What’s the plan?” Teller asked. “Are we going to corner him in the parking lot and question him there?”

“Something like that,” she said. “We have to get there before he gets off to do that.”

They were within a block of the meat-packing facility when a gray sedan passed them going the opposite direction.

Sachie twisted in her seat and looked out the back of the sedan. “That was him. The car has a turtle on the back window. ”

Teller slowed, put on his left blinker and waited for a break in the oncoming traffic.

Sachie remained turned in her seat. “I can still see him, but he’s about to go around a curve.”

A gap appeared in the oncoming traffic. It wasn’t much of one, but Teller couldn’t wait any longer. He hit the accelerator and spun the steering wheel at the same time. Tires squealed as the sedan did a one-eighty, fishtailing until Teller had it headed straight ahead.

“I lost sight of him,” Sachie said, leaning toward the dashboard. “He can’t be too far ahead. The traffic isn’t moving that fast.”

The slow traffic didn’t help Teller catch up. Every chance he got, he wove around a slower vehicle and sped up again, only to get trapped behind another. As they rounded the curve, Sachie squinted, searching the road ahead. “I think that’s him, six cars ahead. He’s merging onto H1, heading back to Honolulu.”

The car in front of Teller slowed almost to a complete stop to take a right turn onto a side street. With another car passing him on the left, Teller had no choice but to slam on his brakes and wait for the driver to complete the turn. As soon as he did, Teller punched the gas, sending the rental shooting forward. Moments later, he flew onto H1, merging into traffic. With multiple lanes to choose from, he whipped around vehicles using the far-left lane and nearly passed the gray sedan as it veered to the right onto an exit ramp.

“He’s getting off!” Sachie yelled at the same time Teller had come to that conclusion. Quickly checking his rearview and side mirror, he swerved sharply, crossing three lanes of traffic and just making it to the exit to the sound of horns honking.

Ahead, William’s car slowed at a green traffic light and turned left.

By the time Teller reached the light, it was red. He would have blown through it except a police car waited at the light to his right, forcing him to come to a complete halt and wait for the cross traffic to pass, along with the police car, and for his light to turn green.

Sachie sat as far forward as she could and still be secured in her seatbelt.

“Still see him?” Teller asked when the light blinked green. He pulled onto the road and fell in behind the cars slowing for the next light in a long line of traffic lights at every intersection.

Sachie craned her neck to look over the tops of the vehicles in front of them. For a long moment, she said nothing. “I think I see him. No... Yes! That’s him. Second car at the fourth light in front of us.”

Teller did his best to catch up, but he was stuck in the gridlock, slowly moving forward. Fortunately, the lights synchronized in his favor, and although he moved at a snail’s pace, he didn’t have to stop at a red light.

Soon, the traffic thinned. Only three vehicles moved between them and the gray sedan with the turtle sticker. At this point, Teller was in no hurry to close the distance. He didn’t want Williams to know he was being tailed.

They’d left the busier four-lane streets and moved into a residential neighborhood with single-family homes and a park with fields for organized sports like baseball and soccer.

The last vehicle between them turned onto a side street.

Williams’s gray sedan slowed in a school zone across from a park. He pulled into a parking area dedicated to the park and stopped.

“Want to stop and talk with him?” Teller asked, slowing as they approached.

“No,” she said. “Drive on by, then turn onto the street flanking the park. I want to know what he’s up to.”

Teller drove past Williams in his parking area to turn onto the road that ran along the side of the park. “Think he’s meeting someone there for nefarious purposes? ”

Her lips pressed together, a frown pulling her brow low. “For all we know, he’s stopping to eat a picnic lunch. It is a pretty park.”

Like so many parks in the area, this one was a mix of walking paths through Banyan trees, baseball diamonds and soccer fields for children’s and adults’ sports leagues.

Sachie pointed ahead. “Pull into that parking area by the banyan trees.”

As soon as Teller brought the car to a halt, Sachie jumped out.

Teller hurried to join her as she set off on one of the paths, meandering through the massive trees with their thick canopies of leaves and arrays of aerial roots and prop roots dangling from the branches above.

Sachie moved quickly toward the other parking area, where the gray sedan was parked.

As they neared, Teller spotted Williams seated on a bench eating a sandwich.

Teller chuckled softly. “You called it. He’s having a picnic lunch in the park.

She stopped in the shadow of one of the banyans. “Why here? Why not at a park closer to the halfway house?”

A loud bell rang, drawing Teller’s attention to the school across from the park, and across from where Williams sat on the park bench.

As children streamed out into the playground surrounded by a chain-link fence, the man lowered the hand with the sandwich and leaned slightly forward.

Sachie moved closer to the man on the bench. “Is he watching the children?”

Teller reached for her hand. “In case he looks this way, he will only think we’re a couple walking through the park. “Do you think he chose this park because it’s across from an elementary school?”

Sachie shivered. “I hope not. It’s too creepy. Makes me want to call him out on it.”

When she started forward, Teller held onto her hand, bringing her to a halt. “Wait.”

She turned toward him and then glanced back at the playground.

A small boy chased a ball to the fence, bent to pick it up and paused. He glanced across the road as if looking for something or someone. Then, he grinned and waved.

Scott Williams waved back. He didn’t leave the bench or go to talk to the little boy but kept his distance.

At the angle they stood observing the man, Teller could see his smile .

The boy waved again, turned with the ball and ran back to play with his friends.

Williams sat on the bench until the bell rang again and the children filed into the building. Recess was over.

Williams gathered his trash, tossed it into a bin and headed for his car.

“Do you want to follow him?” Teller asked, ready to sprint back to their rental.

“No. That won’t be necessary,” Sachie said.

Teller turned to Sachie to find tears slipping down her face. He cupped her cheeks and stared down into her watery eyes, his heart squeezing hard in his chest. “Hey, why the tears?” Hell, he could handle bullets better than a woman’s tears, any day—especially this woman’s.

She gave him a weak laugh. “Just when you’ve lost faith in humankind, something like this reminds you that not everyone is bad or out to hurt others.”

Teller glanced toward the gray sedan pulling out of the parking lot. “You think it’s okay for a grown man to lurk outside an elementary school playground?”

“I recognized the little boy.” Sachie looked up into Teller’s eyes, her own filling again. “It was Aiden Williams, Scott’s son. He came to see his son.”

“What about him not leaving the house for an entire day and the house manager not recording that he left?”

“It could’ve happened as you suggested.” Sachie started moving back to where they’d parked. “Bryan might’ve gone on a bathroom break, not expecting anyone to leave at that hour. Williams wasn’t supposed to work today, but his supervisor said he was asked to fill in for someone else.” She shook her head. “I think it would’ve been a stretch for him to fly out to the Big Island, stir up all that trouble and get back in time to show up at work at eight.”

Teller opened the passenger door and held it for Sachie to climb in.

He rounded to the other side of the car and slipped in behind the wheel. “Now where?”

“I’d like to talk with Candice Franklin if she’ll see me.”

Sachie stared at the front windshield, images of a little boy standing on the other side of a fence waving at his father etched in her mind. She really hoped Scott Williams was committed to a better life for himself and his son. Like all children, Aiden deserved to live a happy childhood with a parent who loved and protected him. She’d never liked taking children away from their parents, but she couldn’t stand back and let a child be neglected or abused by those parents.

Teller checked the text Swede had sent for the address and brought it up on his map application. “Are you going to let Foster know where we found Williams?”

Sachie had rolled that question over in her mind before Teller had asked. “Though I like to think his picnic in the park is harmless, and he only wanted to see his kid, I’d hate to be wrong. So, yes. I feel like it’s my responsibility to let Foster know. I’m not sure if Williams has visitation rights with Aiden or if he has been ordered to keep his distance from the boy.”

The map led them back to H1 to another exit and back into a seedier neighborhood with homes that had seen better days years ago. Many had cars parked in the tiny front yards, some propped on concrete blocks, missing not only tires but their wheels as well.

If it wasn’t chickens wandering the streets, it was stray dogs that barely moved off the pavement as Teller eased along the narrow streets, coming to a stop in front of a dilapidated shack that appeared to be held together by plywood and duct tape.

Sachie’s heart went out to Candice Franklin. To live in such squalor was bad enough. To have an old boyfriend beat the shit out of her after being released from jail was taking it to the next level of horrible .

She got out of the car, not looking forward to stepping into this woman’s house. She’d been in homes no human or animal should live in. She suspected this was one of those.

Teller walked with her up to the door and knocked.

“Go away,” a voice called out from inside.

“Ms. Franklin, could we have a few minutes of your time?” Teller called out.

“I’m not buying. Ain’t got no money anyway,” she said and then erupted in a hacking cough. “Damn.”

“Candice,” Sachie called out, “we’re looking for Travis and hope you can help us.”

“You and everyone else,” Candice called out. “That no good, son of a bitch nearly killed me.” Again, more coughing.

“Please. We won’t take up too much of your time,” Sachie persisted.

“Door’s open,” the woman inside said. “Travis busted the lock.”

Teller pushed the door inward and stepped through the entryway.

Sachie followed and wished she’d taken a deep breath while she’d been outside.

The place reeked of what smelled like cigarettes and rancid trash. The small house was a hoarder’s nightmare, with dirty clothing littering various surfaces, old pizza boxes stacked in the corners and beer cans strewn across a carpet that had become the drop cloth of a desperate woman’s life. Candice Franklin lay on an old sofa, wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a faded and torn AC/DC T-shirt. One arm was draped over her eyes, the other in a cast and a sling across her belly. “What do you want? I already told the police I don’t know where that loser went. They should never have let him out of jail.”

When Candice lowered her arm, Sachie swallowed hard to keep from gasping.

Her narrow face was bright shades of purple and blue, with one eye swelled shut, her lip swollen to twice what would have been normal and a scabbed gash on her left cheek that would leave an ugly scar.

She must have seen the horror in Sachie’s expression because she snorted and said, “Travis likes to leave his calling card. Don’t you think I’m pretty?” She tried to smile, managing only to lift one side of her mouth, making it more of a sneer.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Sachie said. “We’d like to see him hauled back to jail. Did he say anything about where he was heading?”

“You think I wouldn’t have told the police already? I want him back in prison even more. He blamed me for putting him there in the first place, when it was what he did to my sweet Lily that got him arrested. He blamed me and that woman working with the police who stood up in court and testified against him.”

Candice squinted through her semi-good eye. “I know you, don’t I?” She squinted again. “I never forget a face. Names now are a different story. Were you one of the nurses at the hospital when they brought me in after Travis tried to remodel my face and ribs?”

Sachie shook her head. “No, ma’am.” She didn’t want to remind the woman that she was the one who had testified in court against Travis and Candice. They needed any information the battered woman could give them that might help them find Travis. “You say you don’t know where Travis went, but before he went to prison, did he have places he liked to go to get away from it all? Maybe to a family member or friend’s house? Doesn’t he have a grandmother who lives on the island?”

Candice snorted. “She won’t have nothing to do with his sorry ass. Last time he visited her, he stole the money she had hidden under her mattress. If he’d asked for it, she probably would’ve given it to him. She practically raised him after his mother went off with a younger man and didn’t want a kid tagging along. When Travis stole the money from his grandma’s stash, she cut him off. Told him she didn’t want to see him anymore. He won’t have gone there.”

“Friends?”

“He had some friends in that motorcycle gang. They wanted him to join, but he didn’t have a motorcycle. I’m not sure where they live, but they hang out at that dive of a bar—the Leather and Chains. If he ain’t with them, he might be hiding out on the other side of the island with his cousin, Reuben Jones, on the North Shore. He works on surfboards during the day and deals drugs when he needs extra income. You didn’t hear that from me. Never did like Reuben. That horse’s ass punched his girl in the gut while she was pregnant with his kid. Made her miscarry. Probably just as well. They didn’t need to bring a brat into that environment. He and Travis are sadistic bastards. Don’t care who they hurt, young or old.”

Candice closed her eyes and laid her good arm over her face. “Why was it you wanted to talk to Travis?”

“We think he might be involved in other attacks,” Sachie said, “and want to stop him before he hurts anyone else.”

“Shouldn’t the cops be doing that?” Candice said to the ceiling. “Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Travis can rot in hell for all I care. Just keep him away from me.” She opened her eyes again and stared at Sachie. “ I know you from somewhere, just can’t put my finger on it.”

“I’m sure it will come to you.” Sachie glanced around the small living area. “Can I get you anything?”

“A water bottle from the fridge would be great and save me from trying to get up to get it.” She coughed and held her ribs at the same time. “Dammit. That hurts.”

Sachie picked her way across the debris to the refrigerator, snagged a half-empty water bottle from the door and returned to Candice. “I hope you get well soon.”

“Thanks,” she said and scooted into a sitting position. “What did you say your names were?”

“Teller Osgood,” Teller said.

Sachie didn’t add her name to his announcement and wouldn’t unless Candice demanded her name. There was no use upsetting the woman further by letting her know Sachie had been involved in removing her daughter, Lily, from her home.

“The motorcycle gang and his cousin Reuben?” Sachie prompted. “Are those the only people or places he might go to?”

“Yeah. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m done talking. Leave. ”

Sachie turned, met Teller’s gaze and lifted her chin toward the door. “Ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and led the way out of the shack and down the stairs to the sidewalk.

Back in the car, Sachie sighed. “I guess you know where I want to go next?”

“If it’s to the motorcycle club bar, you’re crazy,” he said. “But I won’t say no, though I might have my team on standby.”

“Travis sounds like he hasn’t learned how to control his anger during his brief time in prison. We might need to call in reinforcements.”