by Hester Young
“Were any of these guys especially interested in her? Did anyone follow her around, call her a lot, anything like that?”
“Not that she said. The only one totally obsessed with her was Elijah.”
“Okay. That’s good to know.” I don’t call him out on the little crush I suspect he nursed. Kai’s been a good sport. No need to make things awkward. “Well. I’ll let you get back to Eco Day.”
I start down the path toward the pier. When I look back, he’s still watching me. Those blue eyes and freckles make him look young, so young.
“Hey,” he calls. “You really think she’s alive?”
I pause. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”
* * *
• • •
BACK ON THE PIER, Rae seems to be engaged in a rather intense conversation with Brayden. I can’t make out their words over the lapping waves, but Brayden’s brow creases as he speaks and Rae listens intently. Not wanting to interrupt what could be a useful source of information, I double back to the car and take some time to process what I’ve just learned from Kai.
On the positive side, nothing he told me hinted at any kind of abuse on Victor’s part, and if Victor isn’t about to win any upstanding-citizen awards, an affair with a consenting adult is a far cry from raping your child. Maybe Frankie is the mysterious older guy, after all. If Frankie broke Lise’s heart and she was feeling vengeful, she might’ve flirted with the idea of statutory rape charges. Could Frankie have had a hand in her disappearance?
In the parking lot, a truck tows a huge metal boat to the edge of the grassy area, where a group of people with windbreakers and cameras now gather. A woman barks directions, warning people with injuries and heart conditions about the bumpy ride ahead. Tourists, I determine, preparing for a marine tour of the lava flow. I haven’t seen this many tourists in one place since Volcanoes National Park. On this side of the island, the beaches are rocky and wild, the weather humid and unpredictable. If you aren’t a surfer, charmed by the untamed sea, then lava is your only draw. Nothing to do here but sit back and watch the island burn.
I lean against the trunk of our rental. Kai has returned to his garbage collecting, ridding the park of refuse at his plodding pace. All those tears—who knew such a sensitive soul resided behind those baby blues? The kid certainly confirmed the level of self-delusion going on in the Nakagawa family. My heart goes out to the girls, stubbornly maintaining faith in their father when confronted over and over with the truth. I don’t know about Lise, but if my conversation with her sister the other day is any indication, Jocelyn still hasn’t accepted what’s staring them all in the face.
Jocelyn. I feel a prickle of anticipation.
Her busted alibi could be a promising development, a sign that she knows more than she’s let on. Something must have happened that night her sister went missing, something that prevented her from studying for her test.
Did Lise call her, begging for help? Did they meet up somewhere?
You know that expression “You reap what you sow”? Jocelyn told me. Lise didn’t sow anything good. But she didn’t sound afraid for Lise’s life when she said it. On the contrary, she seemed exhausted by her sister, bitter even. Like someone well versed in Lise’s shenanigans, someone tired of running interference.
It would make sense for Lise to go to her sister in a time of trouble. Jocelyn has nerves of steel. She’s a planner, an organizer. She’d know exactly what to do, how to handle any mess that Lise found herself in. And if Lise needed her, really needed her, how could Jocelyn turn her away? However different the Nakagawa girls might be, they’re still sisters. Twins.
“There you are!”
I look up, see Rae jogging toward me.
“Man, I thought I’d never get away. That Brayden kid can yap.” She opens the passenger-side door and tosses me the car keys. “Your turn to drive.”
“Did Brayden say anything useful?”
“Nada. He was mostly sharing his philosophical insights about life.” Inside the car, Rae quickly reapplies lipstick and adjusts a few curls. “He did say Victor was too controlling of his daughters, but when I asked for examples, he basically just objected to curfews and having to let your parents know where you are. Run-of-the-mill parenting stuff.”
“I don’t suppose he mentioned anything about Lise and Frankie ever being an item? Or any other guys who might’ve prompted the statutory rape questions?”
“I got nothing,” Rae says ruefully. “How’d you make out with Kai? Collecting garbage together—nice way to build rapport, detective.”
I’m in no mood for her lighthearted banter. “We need to find Jocelyn,” I say as I start the engine.
Across the park, the tourists have begun to board the lava boat, eager to watch molten rock cool as it hits the sea, to witness the creation of new land. I wish that I could join them, but I need to be with Jocelyn now. I have to protect her—and her sister—from whoever has been prowling those dark woods. But I can’t do that without some answers.
“She knows something, Rae,” I say. “Jocelyn knows something big.” I let the words sit on the tip of my tongue, testing their truth before I finally say them aloud. “I think she knows where Lise is.”
twenty-two
According to Kai, Jocelyn is off saving the world with the Environmental Club, so I leave the girl to her recycling and wait until afternoon to make my move. In the meantime, Rae and I traipse half-heartedly around Hilo, a run-down town by the water that balances its touristy souvenir shops and art galleries with car dealerships and grocery stores.
At Lili‘uokalani Gardens, we ramble through a picturesque park with giant banyan trees, ponds, pagodas, bridges, and a Japanese tea garden. Populated mainly by haole tourists and a few homeless men, the gardens strike me as a peculiar tribute to their namesake, a queen who fought against colonialism and ended up under house arrest while white businessmen seized control of the government. Today, the rich white women in straw hats and swishy sundresses who stroll these grounds seem an affront to Lili‘uokalani’s fierce Hawaiian nationalism.
I can’t pretend I’m not one of them. When Rae and I end up sipping Frappuccinos in a local Starbucks, I know the American conquest of the islands is totally and devastatingly complete.
At three o’clock, I drop Rae off at the hot ponds for a couple of hours and drive over to the Nakagawa home. Though I feel bad about ditching Rae, my gut tells me I’ll get further with Jocelyn alone. Two inquisitive adults might put her on her guard. Far better for me to show up at the house before Victor returns from work and pretend it’s him I’m there to see.
As it happens, no one’s at home when I pull into the driveway. The carport is empty, and I get no answer when I knock. Did I miss her? Is Jocelyn still out doing her project for Eco Day? Before I can decide what to do, a sporty silver car pulls up behind mine. Jocelyn steps from the passenger side, squinting at me.
I assume a Big Dumb Adult smile and wave.
Jocelyn sighs as she recognizes me. “It’s okay, Ember,” she tells the plump blond girl at the wheel. “Just someone here for my dad.”
The blonde gives her a thumbs-up and pulls sharply out of the driveway, tires screeching.
Jocelyn trudges up the ramp toward me. “If you’re looking for my father, he won’t be home for another hour.”
“Well, shoot. I was hoping I might catch him. I should’ve called.” My cringeworthy performance will not win me any Oscars, but maybe Jocelyn’ll buy it. “Hey, did I hear you were working on a project for Eco Day? Something with the Environmental Club?”
She eyes me suspiciously, as if displeased that I’ve been asking around about her. “As a matter of fact, we turned in three hundred pounds of recyclable plastics today.”
“Wow! Impressive!”
“We’re donating the money to the Conservation Council for Hawai‘i,” she says. “This was the first time we’ve don
e this, but I think we’re going to make it an annual thing. And I pretty much organized it all, so . . .”
I grin. “You’re building quite the résumé, aren’t you? I don’t see how Stanford could turn you down.”
“They won’t.”
Sensing I’ve generated all the goodwill that I can, I make my request. “Listen, would you mind terribly if I hung around until your dad gets back? He’ll be so disappointed if I miss him.”
“Okay . . .” She unlocks the front door reluctantly. “I mean, I guess so.” She holds the door open for me, pointedly removing her shoes when I forget to remove my own.
Now that I’m in, she can’t get rid of me. “You know,” I say, like the idea has just occurred to me, “maybe you could fill in some details for my article while we wait.”
“Me?” Her body stiffens. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, I’ve heard all about Victor Nakagawa the scientist and athlete. But I’ve yet to learn what kind of dad he is.”
Jocelyn stares blankly at me, but I know she must be remembering the scene I witnessed in the square yesterday, all the things Kai accused her father of. “My dad’s busy,” she says. “Obviously.”
I follow her into the kitchen area. “So . . . an absent dad?”
“It’s not like I never see him,” she objects. “When he’s training, we work out together sometimes. We’ll do laps at the aquatic center or bike. I tried to run with him a few times, but I can’t keep up. He’s really fast.”
“That’s great info.” I break out a notebook and jot this down. “Do you and your dad share any other interests?” I want to put her at ease, get her relaxed before I steer the conversation to Lise.
“Just, you know, I think his work is really cool.” Jocelyn opens the fridge and reaches for a pair of Diet Cokes. The refrigerator light flares bright and then winks out, its bulb suddenly dead. “Power surge,” Jocelyn grumbles, offering me a soda can that I wave away. “Our solar panels have been a little wonky lately.”
I follow her over to the sitting area, where she curls up in a chair with a teal cushion. I sit across from her on the wicker couch. “Has your father taught you much about volcanology?”
“Sure. When I was a kid and home sick from school, he’d bring me to the observatory with him.” She smiles at the memory. “He’d give me these samples of volcanic rock. Pumice, reticulite, Pele’s hair.”
“Pele’s hair?”
“They’re these long, thin strands of volcanic glass that really look like hair. They form when lava hardens while flying through the air. Anyway, it was interesting, all the graphs and equipment and stuff. I used to fake sick sometimes so I could hang out with him.”
It’s a sweet confession that also strikes me as a little sad. “You must really admire him.”
“He’s achieved a lot.”
“So has your mother.”
Jocelyn pops the top on her can of Diet Coke. “My mother would’ve done more if she hadn’t had her accident. She just teaches now. But that’s not her fault.”
Her comment seems to dismiss everything Sue has been through and all the work she’s done for her students, but I hold my tongue. “Must have been quite an adjustment for you all after the accident.”
“We adjusted.”
“You sound like your dad,” I tell her. “Stoic in the face of hardship.”
“What are you supposed to do? Crumble when things go wrong? Accidents happen, things you don’t plan for. My mom understood that.” From her suddenly skittish gaze, this is not a conversation Jocelyn wants to be having. “She handled it. We all handled it.”
“And your sister? She handled it, too?”
Jocelyn traces the rim of her soda can with her finger. “You’re very interested in my sister.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You were asking about Elijah the other day. I don’t see what he has to do with my father.”
“Your father is a complicated man,” I say. “Just trying to provide a complete picture of him. I’d be remiss as a journalist if I ignored his missing daughter.”
“You’d be remiss as a journalist if you printed rumors about Elijah.”
So much for pleasant conversation. Jocelyn knows I’m up to something.
“Elijah was under investigation,” I state. “That’s not a rumor, that’s a fact. It doesn’t mean he had anything to do with Lise going missing. But it affects your father, who’s the subject of my article.” In truth, I have no plans to drag all the Yoon family garbage into my article for Outdoor Adventures, but I figure it’s better to pretend my interest is professional and not personal. “This business with Elijah has weighed heavily on your dad, I’m sure, given his friendship with Elijah’s mom.”
“Honestly? I’m getting a little sick of having this Naomi conversation every time I see you.” Jocelyn slams her can of Diet Coke on the coffee table, so hard that some fizzes out and drips down the sides. “If you put stupid rumors about that woman in your article, I will seriously sue you.”
I have to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing. I have no doubt whatsoever that sixteen-year-old Jocelyn would march into a law office and secure an attorney if I published unflattering gossip about her family. Against my better judgment, I like this girl. She’s feisty. I can see why Kai has stayed with her, why Lise would turn to her in times of trouble. Jocelyn is a good person to have in a foxhole.
“Relax,” I tell her. “I’m a journalist. I deal in facts, clear and verifiable facts.”
“If it’s facts you’re after, you can leave the Yoons out of it,” she returns. “The police would’ve charged Elijah if they could support a case. There’s no evidence anything bad happened to my sister, anyway. It’s a missing person case, and she has a history of running away.”
“I sense law school in your future.”
“Maybe.”
I try another tack. “You were friends with Elijah, weren’t you? Hung out with him in the woods, listened to him play music. What did you think of him?”
“That’s relevant to your article how?”
“Not relevant at all. Call it curiosity, pure and simple.”
“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t feel the need to satisfy your curiosity.” She glowers at me. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I’ve read all about you.”
“Did you?” There is no way I will let Jocelyn see how much it tears me up to be judged for some humiliating Google results. “I’m sure that made for interesting reading.”
“Interesting? More like sad. No offense, but I really don’t get the whole psychic thing. I mean, what, did Marvel call you out here? Do you people have some secret network?”
“I’m not here at Marvel’s request. I’m a journalist. If you’ve been reading up on me, you know that.”
Jocelyn grabs her hair and sweeps it over one shoulder. “You went to Columbia, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a good school,” she says. “And crazy expensive. Was it really worth all that tuition just to become a journalist? Seems like a lot of money to throw down.” She pauses. “But I guess your parents helped.”
If she thinks I grew up like one of the pampered rich girls at Free Thought, she’s pegged me all wrong.
“I had a pretty good scholarship,” I tell her. “I’m sure you’ll get one, too.”
“I can’t go to school unless I do. Geology and teaching are only slightly more lucrative than journalism. Even with a scholarship, I’ll have loans out the ass.”
I study her for a moment, the tilt of her chin and the determined brow. She has her mother’s perseverance and her father’s ego, but there’s another layer to Jocelyn, too—one I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re hiding something?”
“Me?” Her head whips toward mine at the
accusation. “I thought you were after Elijah. What did I do?”
“I wish I knew.”
“I don’t think you want to talk to me that way, Charlotte. Not if you want my dad to cooperate with you.”
I lean back against the wicker couch, impervious to her threats. The more this girl challenges me, the more I’m convinced she’s covering for her sister. And I have my ace in the hole.
“You know, I had a chat with Kai today.”
“Kai? Why?” She doesn’t blink. If she’s worried about anything her boyfriend might’ve said, it doesn’t show. The girl should play poker.
“I wanted to know about Lise,” I say. “And I wanted to know about you. Where you were the night she went missing.”
“I knew you came here about Lise. I knew it.” She waits a beat. “What did Kai tell you?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know. That he wasn’t with you. That you lied to the police.”
Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Big deal. So I’m a loyal girlfriend. Kai was using drugs that night. I covered for him.”
“Oh, I know what Kai was up to. What I don’t know is how you spent your evening.” I give her a reproachful sigh. “A D on a math test? You obviously weren’t studying.”
“Is there a point to this? Because so far all you’ve proven is that my boyfriend has a big damn mouth.” Jocelyn tries to feign boredom, but I don’t buy it. “If you want to say something, then say it.”
“Okay, I will.” I drop the friendly tone, let my voice turn hard as the rocky shores of South Point. “I think you know damn well where your sister is. In fact, I think you helped her get there.”
For once, Jocelyn has no quick retort. She falls silent, the wheels in her head turning. “You don’t understand,” she says at last. “You don’t understand me and Lise.”
“Probably not. Enlighten me.”
She draws her legs close to her chest. “What do you think love is?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I mean, what does love look like? How do you know someone loves you?”