Chapter 23

I droveout to Kahului to meet Lei first thing in the morning, grateful my ribs were steadily improving and no longer bothering me every time Sharkey hit a bump. Lei joined me in the parking lot of the big central police station and led me over to her silver Tacoma.

"Is it me or does it seem like at least half the people on this island drive a Toyota truck?" I said.

She laughed. "Seems like it. How're you doing?"

"I'm better physically, but this thing with the girl in the window hits pretty close to home."

"Goes with the job," Lei said as we got into the truck.

I lobbed a fuzzy stuffed toy into the back seat of the extended cab, where it landed in a child seat that had to be her daughter's. "I have to constantly remind myself that I'm in the ‘justice' business and not the ‘saving' business. I guess that's why I'm pretty fired up about what we're about to check out."

"Do you think Child Welfare Services dropped the ball?"

"I think I appreciate you letting me come along to find out," I said.

We soon arrived at the CWS headquarters, which, along with the Maui School District office, was located in an office building in Wailuku.

"They work out of a number of places here in town," Lei said. "But I checked, and this is where they keep the files on the temporary foster kids."

At the front desk, Lei flashed her gold MPD badge.

"What can I help you with?" said the blue-haired coordinator. "Do you have an appointment with anyone in particular?"

"I'm investigating a possible child endangerment situation," Lei said. "May I see the social worker assigned to Maile Ortiz?" She spelled the name.

The manager typed it into her computer.

"It's Candace's case. She's out on a home visit. I can call her for you."

The social worker answered the call, and the receptionist told her that two police officers were there to see her. I glanced at Lei to see if she was going to correct the woman that I wasn't actually an officer with the department, but she just lifted a brow to indicate she was going to let it slide.

The coordinator listened to the other side of the call and then hung up. "She's on her way back now. Do you want to wait or leave your card for her to call you?"

"It's urgent that we speak. We'll wait."

We sat on metal tubing chairs in the waiting area and worked our phones to pass the time; I sent Keone a text message with some ‘kiss' emojis on it, asking to get together. I was missing him and ready to prove it.

Ten minutes later, a trim young woman with dark-blonde hair wearing an aloha shirt in a muted taupe and black print and khakis came in through the door. She lugged an eight-inch stack of manila files in one arm, and a tote bag bursting with additional files in the other. Her sunglasses were perched on her head and she had a sheen of perspiration on her nose.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," she said. She set the heavy tote on the floor and shifted the bundle of files from her right side over to her left. She then stuck out her hand, and Lei shook it. "I'm Candace Casey, and these are this week's case files."

Lei introduced herself and introduced me as simply, "Kat Smith from Ohia."

We followed Candace back to her tiny cubicle. Her desk seemed like a city with stacks of files standing in for skyscrapers.

"I knew when I took this job that we'd be understaffed," she said. "But ever since the pandemic it's been like being caught in a riptide."

"You surf?" said Lei.

"Not anymore." She grimaced. "No time."

My indignation over CWS being negligent was quickly being replaced with the realization that the demands of the job were impossible to keep up with.

Candace flopped into her office chair and gestured for us to squeeze in along the cubicle's wall. "I got a call from Haiku School yesterday about Maile's attendance but haven't had a chance to follow up. Barbara Long, Maile's temporary Family Resource Parent (FRP for short) isn't one of our gold star guardians, but she's never had a real complaint we could nail down. There have been rumors about her care, though. What's going on?"

I told Candace about my visit to Haiku Elementary to check on Maile's attendance, which had triggered the call to her office. I was relieved when she didn't press to see my credentials.

"Tell you what," Candace said. "I'm not scheduled to do another home check out there for a couple of weeks, but I have a bad feeling. What say we pay our FRP an unannounced visit right now?"

"We were hoping you'd say that," Lei said.

Candace rummaged through the piles on her desk and pulled out a slim manila folder.

"May I see Maile's file?" Lei asked.

Candace handed it over. Lei flipped it open. A three-inch school photo was stapled to the inside of the cover. I only got a quick peek at Maile's hopeful smile, but it made me gasp with recognition: I could tell that the girl's sweet face nearly matched the sketch I'd developed with Doug Beachum. Lei slanted me a glance, and I nodded. "That's the girl the UPS guy saw."

We hunched over the slim file and skimmed through information that matched what I'd gathered at Haiku School. Lei filled Candace in on how we'd reached this point in identifying Maile as a possible homicide victim.

"We'll need a copy of all of this," Lei told Candace. "Digital is fine. Send it to my email at MPD." The two put their heads together and got that going.

I stared at Maile's large brown eyes in the file's headshot. I sneaked my phone out and took a picture of it to keep for myself. I wanted her image close to me.

"Ready to find this girl?" said Candace, standing up. She crackled with energy in that moment, and I revised my opinion further: this social worker DID care—the system had just buried her under too many manila folders to keep up with.

We nodded and followed the blonde woman out to head for Haiku.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later,we pulled up outside the plantation cottage that Rita and I had visited yesterday. We went up the cement walkway to the front door in single file: first Lei, then Candace, and finally me, bringing up the rear. The two women who had the authority to get through that screen door were poised to do so.

Up on the porch, Lei rapped briskly on the doorframe. When Barbara Long appeared, a silhouette behind the screen, she flashed her detective ID and Candace followed with her CWS ID.

"I know who you are," Ms. Long said. "What can I do for you today?" My, how the foster mom's attitude had changed as soon as she glimpsed the gleam of the ornate badge on Lei's belt.

"We're here to do a check on one of your temporary foster kids," Candace said. "May we come in?"

"Of course," she said, stepping back and holding the door open. "Don't mind the mess. With these darn kids coming and going, it's hard for me to keep up."

The inside of the house was shabby and cluttered, but not especially dirty. Once again, the TV was blaring in a corner of the room.

"Please turn off the television," said Candace. "We need to talk."

The woman hesitated, then went over and flipped off the TV.

"I'll get right to the point," said Lei. "Is Maile Ortiz currently at this residence?"

The woman's eyes darted to the door. I half expected her to make a dash for it, her long braid flying out behind her, so I stepped in front of the screen to block it.

"Yes or no, ma'am, it's a simple question," Lei rapped out.

I'd never heard Lei call an older woman "ma'am;" she usually used "auntie." She clearly wasn't in the mood to be messed with.

"Maile's not here right now. Why should she be? It's a school day." Barbara Long fiddled with her long braid.

"But she's not at school, either," Candace said. "We're here about her lack of attendance. We are here to physically see her. NOW."

The foster mom gripped her hands into clawlike fists. She stared down at the threadbare rug on the floor.

"I'm going to check the house for her," Lei said. No one spoke as Lei moved out of the room. We heard her in the hall opening and closing doors.

Lei returned. "No one else is on the premises. Where is Maile Ortiz?"

We waited for Ms. Long's response, but she stayed silent. My chest squeezed; it must've been so frightening for Maile to have been left here with someone so unfriendly.

Candace broke the silence. "Was Maile still in your custody when I came out here almost two weeks ago? At that time, you told me she wasn't on the premises because she was attending an after-school activity."

"No. She ran away." Ms. Long said in a low voice.

"What do you mean, ‘ran away'?" said Candace. "She's ten years old. Where would she go? And—why didn't you report that to me? CWS is responsible for her."

"Well, I thought she'd come back. I mean, she's a feisty one, that girl. She was mad about her mom being busted and she tried to take it out on me. One day, I took her and some of the other kids to the Goodwill Store down in Kahului to do a little shopping. The next thing I knew, she'd up and taken off."

"When was this?" Candace continued.

Lei took out a little notebook and began taking notes.

"Weeks ago. I can't recall the exact date."

"And you never once considered calling and letting us know?" Candace's voice had risen. "There will be consequences for this. Severe consequences!"

Lei stepped in. "When you noticed Maile had gone missing in Kahului, how did you imagine she'd make her way back here to Haiku?"

"Well, that girl's tough. I figured once she'd had enough of living on the street, she'd hitchhike or take the bus or something back to my place. She'd want to return to where she got three meals a day and her own bed. Frankly, I'd had enough of her lip. She wasn't much for following rules, let me tell you."

The room went quiet. I picked up a faint thumping noise, much like what I'd heard when Rita and I had been out there the day before.

"Do you hear that?" I said, frowning. The sound seemed to be coming from behind the house, as if something padded was hitting the back door.

"I don't hear nothin'," said Barbara Long.

"I do," said Lei. "It sounds like someone thumping or knocking. Is there anyone else on the premises?"

Long shook her head. "I still don't hear nothin'."

Candace seemed spooked; her cheeks had gone pale. "You have two other children to care for besides Maile. Where are they?"

"The other children are at school," Long said.

Lei headed for the door. "The noise is coming from outside, behind the house."

The three of us hurried out the front door. We went around the building in single file, until Lei drew her weapon and gestured. "You two stay back. The sound is coming from that shed."

We plastered ourselves against the wall as Lei approached a stout wooden shed in the backyard, her gun held in the ready position. Now that we were closer, we could hear that the thumping was punctuated by a keening sound.

"Come out with your hands up," Lei ordered.

The banging stopped. Then, a small voice said, "I can't. I'm in time-out."

Lei holstered her weapon and grabbed the padlock on the door's hasp. "Candace, get the key."

Candace spun on her heel and marched back into the house through the back door. A few moments later, Barbara Long exited with Candace shoving her to keep her moving forward.

"Unlock this shed," Candace said. "Right now."

Long took a handful of keys out of her pocket and unlocked the shed's padlock. She stood blocking the door as she undid the hasp and slowly opened it. From the darkness inside, a child's high-pitched voice said, "I'll be good. I won't do it again. Please let me out."

Lei shoved Long out of the way and entered the pitch-black shed. Candace followed her. I stood beside Long to prevent her escape.

Candace found an overhead light and pulled a short chain. A bulb turned on, illuminating a little boy wearing dirty shorts and a well-worn T-shirt. He was huddled in a corner, barefoot. The shed held no light, furniture, blankets or any evidence of food or water, though a camp bucket emitted toilet smells. The wood floor was completely bare.

"What in the name of heaven is going on here?" said Candace.

"He's in time-out," said Barbara. She fiddled with her braid nervously.

"This isn't ‘time-out,'" said Lei. "This is imprisonment, and it qualifies as child abuse."

Candace took a deep breath. "I'm going to need to write this up and you will be permanently removed from our rolls as a Family Resource Parent."

"I was told I could use appropriate discipline when necessary. Nothing physical, and I haven't laid a hand on him. Check that boy. There's not a mark on him," blustered Long.

Candace squatted down. "What did you do to get ‘time-out'?" she asked the child.

He hung his head. "Nothin'." Then he seemed to think it might be better to come clean rather than risk being locked up again and added, "I took some bread and ate it in the bathroom. I was hungry after dinner. I'm sorry."

"See?" said Barbara Long. "He admitted to stealing. I think I have a right to put a stop to that kind of behavior."

Candace stood up to her full height, all but vibrating with rage. "And I have a right to make sure your version of discipline never happens again. Like I said, you're no longer employed by Child Welfare Services. And I can't speak for the Maui Police Department, but this detective will no doubt be checking into charging you with child neglect and abuse." Candace took the little boy by the hand. "How about we go get something to eat?"

"Yes please," he said meekly. She led the child out into the sunlight and toward her car. As they were getting in I heard him say, "Am I in trouble?"

"You are definitely not in trouble. You and I are going to go get some lunch. What would you like to eat?" I couldn't hear his response, but the gratitude on his face made me want to break down and cry.

As they pulled away, Barbara Long squinted at me. "And just who are you, missy? You haven't said much."

I locked eyes with her. "I'm the one who just got you fired. And you know what? I wish I could've done it years ago."