by Toby Neal
Hopefully Wayne would want to help her in the restaurant when he got out of his program. He had always been just as good a cook as she was, and she could really use the help in the kitchen. With Wayne working there too, she might even get a day off once in a while.
Rosario had barely unlocked the front door of her house when her phone dinged.
She glanced down at the app that was connected to the restaurant’s brand-new surveillance nanny-cams. It pulsed red at her.
Rosario dropped her handbag just inside the front door and hastily locked it.
The phone beacon was alarming, and nervousness made her mouth go dry. She was almost afraid to see who was going into her fridge.
“Does it really matter?” she said aloud. But it did. Someone was taking food behind her back, and it had to stop.
She hit the app’s button, and a camera window opened up.
Visibility was dim around the door of the fridge, but she immediately recognized the tall, gangly, bushy-headed outline of Josef.
“Oh no!” Rosario covered her mouth with her hand. Her favorite young busboy and helper opened the door of the walk-in and held it wide, propping it open with a stool. “Oh my goodness, that’s why the electric bill has been going up so much!” she muttered. “Josef, I can’t believe it’s you!”
Her breathing tight with sadness and anger, she watched as Josef turned and gestured. With a start, Rosario realized that the office icon was also lit up. She hit the button to open a second camera window beside the first, and gasped at the sight of two children tugging flour sacks off the stack and onto the floor of Momi’s office. The dim security lights that they left on inside the building lit up a young girl, and an even younger boy.
Josef was clearly in charge. He came out of the refrigerator with his arms filled with food and the younger children met him as he returned.
Rosario swallowed a lump in her throat—the things they carried were the small pail of hard-boiled eggs that hadn’t sold at the counter, expired sandwich bread, a vat of peanut butter, and the overripe mangoes and pineapple cores from the plastic pig slop bin.
These kids must be starving. What had happened to their parents?
Josef was clearly careful not to take the good food that she needed to run the restaurant. Tears filled her eyes as the three children sat down on the floor in Momi’s office, and Josef made them peanut butter and mango sandwiches while the younger children gorged themselves on hard-boiled eggs.
When they had eaten their fill, Josef took all the remaining food back into the walk-in, closed the door and replaced the stool. The three of them walked into the office, and two of the kids arranged sacks on the floor. The children pulled the empty coffee and flour sacks over themselves, curled up, and went to sleep.
Rosario closed the surveillance windows on her app.
She had an answer as to what was going on inside the restaurant.
Clearly these children had somehow lost their parents. She tried to remember what Josef had told her about his family, but he had been evasive. She’d seen his high school ID card and it had been enough to verify his age to hire him—but she hadn’t known he was homeless! And he was taking care of a younger brother and sister.
She had to come up with something better for them, something that didn’t get them separated in foster care, or worse yet, deported from the United States without anyone to care for them.
Rosario clenched her jaw.
She would take care of Josef and his brother and sister. God hadn’t given her so much love and so many resources and no children of her own for all of her many blessings not to be shared.
Her mind was made up.
She turned briskly to walk into her own kitchen. She had some calls to make, and some beds to make up, and she was energized to do what needed to be done.
But still, it hurt that Josef hadn’t trusted her enough to ask for help. Made her eyes prickle to think of it. Poor boy. Carrying so much weight, all alone. Somehow, she had to convince him to trust her.
She’d prove to them she had plenty of room—in her heart, and in her home. Bringing Lei home at nine had already shown her that. Those children wouldn’t have to spend one more night sleeping in Momi’s office on sacks of rice and flour if she could help it.
Chapter Eight
Consuelo
Days seemed to have passed in the dim half-light that was the perpetual state of things in the ‘shoe.’ Consuelo tossed to and fro on her pallet. Her mind wouldn’t stop going over the series of events that had led to now: that glorious day she’d stolen an airplane, and grabbed up Angel on impulse, beginning a terrifying and exhilarating crime spree of robbing the rich and giving to the poor.
That exciting adventure had ended so badly. So many had been hurt. But she couldn’t take responsibility for where it had gone. She’d never intended any of what the Smiley Bandit movement had unleashed—but it was clear now that, yes, she needed to tell her story . . . or it would be permanently twisted into what others interpreted, and the media had promoted.
She finally slept.
Hours or only minutes might have passed when Consuelo heard the metallic grind of the door unlocking, and it opened.
Consuelo sat up. Aunty Marcie’s face was impassive. “You have a visitor.”
“I thought I couldn’t have visitors.” Consuelo’s voice was a thin rasp.
“Your lawyer is not considered a visitor,” Aunty Marcie said.
“Thank God.” Consuelo stood, her legs a little wobbly, and preceded the CO down the hall. Marcie put her in a bare conference room with a battered table, rather than the usual group visiting area. Consuelo sat on one of the molded plastic chairs.
Bennie Fernandez, his white hair standing up in a halo, wasn’t the only visitor. Lei Texeira, her eyes worried, followed him in, and right behind them, bright as a parakeet in a teal-green pantsuit, was Wendy Watanabe. Bringing up the rear of their little parade, was a haole man that Consuelo recognized as the warden.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Consuelo told Lei. “Thank you for coming.” She had to blink—her eyes were stinging. Lei sat next to her and touched her arm lightly—she wasn’t much for hugging.
Not so Wendy. “Oh, my God, girl. What did they do to you?” The petite reporter exclaimed, swooping in to engulf Consuelo in a waft of pikake perfume and strong, toned arms.
“The inmate was captured breaching the wall in an attempt to escape off of the property,” the warden harrumphed. “She’s in the isolation unit, standard intervention after a runaway attempt.”
“No, sir, I didn’t want to escape.” Consuelo extricated herself from Wendy’s grip. “I was fighting to get away from the other girls. I left a note under my mattress asking for help.”
“That’s why Warden Smith allowed this meeting.” Fernandez tugged his aloha shirt down over his paunch. “One of the COs, Marcie Porter, found it in your cell.”
“I was hoping someone would find the note, and know that I didn’t participate willingly,” Consuelo said.
Warden Smith’s face looked thunderously angry. He’d happily keep her in the isolation unit indefinitely, she was sure of it. She had to hurry and say what she needed to in front of witnesses before he found a way to do that. “I have information. About Fai’s uncle. He has contacts here in the prison, and he helped her escape. He’s a member of the Boyz.”
“Jose Taika,” Lei said. “I ran background on your roommate Fai already. She’s well-connected with organized crime.”
Smith’s eyebrows drew together. “Well. We didn’t have that information. If we had, I might have taken your concerns more seriously, Special Agent Texeira.”
Lei cocked a brow skeptically. “I’ve already called a contact at HPD that I’d like to have help with the hunt for the missing girls. I just came to verify that Consuelo was unhurt, and to see if she had any more information for us?”
“Yes, I do.” Consuelo swallowed. “But I’m afraid. Of what could happen. From Fai and her r
elatives.”
“I am requesting a change of location for you because of this incident,” Bennie Fernandez said. “I’m going straight to the judge who worked your case. And I’m sure Warden Smith plans different accommodations for you in light of all of this?”
Warden Smith opened his mouth. “Well . . .” he stammered, his face empurpled. “We can’t make exceptions. Aguilar has a sentence to fulfill.”
Wendy whipped a small recorder out of her pocket and turned it on, extending the device toward Smith while speaking into a mic she’d slipped onto her head. “This is Wendy Watanabe with KHIN-2 news. I’m here with Warden Smith of Oahu Youth Correctional Facility, doing a follow-up story about Consuelo Aguilar. This notorious folk heroine was recently involved with a breakout, and is now cooperating with authorities in the capture of the escapees. Warden Smith, what can you tell us about how the facility plans to assist in the capture of the runaways?”
“Ah. Yes.” Smith smoothed his tie over his shirt and sucked in his belly. “Every resource will be deployed to assist in the capture of the criminals at large.”
“And what is being done to protect Aguilar, a critical witness in this case?” Watanabe was relentless as she held the microphone of the recorder close to Smith’s sweating face.
“We’ll—move her to a protected isolation unit,” Smith said. “We appreciate law enforcement’s prompt, coordinated effort in recovering the escapees.”
“You heard it here first, folks. Every resource deployed and Aguilar will be protected.” Watanabe clicked Off on the recorder and smiled, a twitch of shapely scarlet lips. “Thrilled to hear it, Warden Smith.”
Lei made a shooing motion with her hand. “Mr. Fernandez and I need to speak to Consuelo alone regarding an active case and her sensitive information—not to mention her future testimony. Can the rest of you wait outside?”
Consuelo’s heart rate was still galloping as Wendy Watanabe and Warden Smith filed out. “Please. Get me a notebook,” she whispered. “I need to write while I’m in isolation.”
“Way ahead of you, girl.” Lei drew Consuelo’s precious notebook out of her backpack, along with a plain Bic ballpoint. “The pen sucks, but it passed regulations.”
Consuelo clasped the notebook to her chest. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome. Now tell me everything.”
Consuelo did: all she knew about Fai, her relatives, the escape plan, and their rendezvous point if separated.
She felt much lighter as she was led back to the isolation unit half an hour later, the notebook concealed under her shirt.
Chapter Nine
Lei
Lei strode out of the youth facility, Bennie Fernandez trotting in her wake. “Like we discussed, I’m filing for a change of venue to move Consuelo to a therapeutic correctional group home for girls in California,” Bennie puffed. “It’s a lot homier than this place.”
“Great, Bennie. You’ve done good by her. But don’t let me hear of you defending any of these scumbags,” Lei admonished, shaking a finger at him. “I’ll cite conflict of interest on you in a heartbeat.”
“All’s fair,” the defense lawyer said as they reached the parking lot. “In love, and in defense law. But don’t worry. I checked with my office. No Taikas or Afas on the client list.”
“Keep it that way.” Lei raised a hand to him as he got into a boat-sized Lincoln Continental.
Lei beeped open her truck and jumped in, peeling out of the lot. She put her cop light on and picked up her radio, checking in with Marcus Kamuela, the detective in charge of the OYCF’s manhunt.
“Got some new information from a witness,” she told the big Hawaiian detective. “Let’s rendezvous in five minutes.”
She met Kamuela and the other HPD operatives at the Kaneohe police station. There, she shared the intel Consuelo had gathered—the name of the warehouse where the fugitives were meeting with a contact to move them even further away. “A boat is involved,” Lei said. “That’s all my witness knew.”
“We need the Coast Guard in on this,” Kamuela said. “And SWAT. I’m making the calls. It’s on—we’re going to nail these Boyz.”
The multi-agency group of law enforcement personnel approached a rusty steel warehouse located at one end of the harbor area. The industrial zone of grubby older buildings draped in power lines was an urban blight that contrasted with sparkling turquoise ocean in the distance.
Lei stayed well back, remembering her ‘consultant’ role, as SWAT burst in the warehouse entrance with a handheld metal door cannon. There was a mad scramble inside the warehouse, the rattle of gunfire, and a burst of yelling. The roar of engines added further chaos, and a twin-engine speedboat zoomed out of the side of the warehouse butted up against the water.
Lei hadn’t entered with the team, and she ran along the outside of the building, her weapon in low ready position, tracking the fleeing boat.
Driving the boat was a suspect in a ball cap. Staring back at the shore from the craft, their faces pale with fright, were a heavyset girl with black hair and a slim blonde. And in the stern, raising a shotgun to fire at Lei, was another male suspect.
Lei ducked as a hole blew open in the corrugated metal wall near her with a noise like the world was ending. She swung back around and fired, aiming for the big twin Mercury engines. Fai Afa gave a cry and jumped back, grabbing the blonde Jadene in her arms as they dodged a ricochet off the motor’s protective shell. The man with the shotgun hit Lei’s shed again.
Lei fired back, still going for the engine, and this time the motor seemed to stutter—but the speedboat kept going, slamming into waves and bouncing high, a tough target to hit on a wide-open sea.
Lei didn’t want to hit one of the girls. She was already out of range for anything but a wild card shot, so she kept an eye on the boat as Kamuela arrived beside her, panting with exertion. “Interior’s secure. Looks like the girls got away.”
“How far out is that Coast Guard cutter?” Lei asked. “I did get off a couple of shots. Tried to hit the motor. Seemed like I did, but it’s still moving.”
As if in answer to her question, they saw the smaller of the Coast Guard’s intercept boats moving in on the speedboat, which had slowed a bit.
“Maybe I winged it,” Lei muttered, sheltering her eyes with a hand against the glitter of sunshine on the ocean.
“I think you did.” Marcus lifted his rifle in burly arms and peered through its scope at the distant, bobbing boats. “Looks like the Coast Guard’s superior firepower has intimidated them. They’re taking the craft in tow.” The big Hawaiian’s stern face split in a grin as he high-fived Lei. “Tell your girl Consuelo she did nice work. We scooped up some major players in the Boyz today, thanks to her.”
“I’ll make sure she gets that message,” Lei said. “We’re moving her somewhere safer to make sure she’s out of their range.”
“Good idea. And just in time for Christmas,” Marcus said, as they turned back to meet with their team and process the captives they’d taken inside the warehouse.
“Her lawyer’s working on a new placement, and if all goes well, she’ll be moved before the holiday.” Lei held up her hand. “Fingers crossed.”
Marcus laughed. “With you and that reporter following her case, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Consuelo gets that publishing deal everybody’s talking about, and ends up going to college.”
“That’s my hope,” Lei said. “Consuelo deserves a break, and she can do better for the world telling her story and fulfilling an education than sitting in a jail cell. I just hope the powers that be agree with Wendy, Bennie and me on that score.”
Chapter Ten
Rosario
Rosario rose early the next morning, dressing quickly. She wanted to intercept Josef before the children left; she suspected he got up and began his work shift for her at four thirty a.m., and probably let the younger ones sleep in.
She took the car this morning to shave time off her trip, parking it
a block away from the restaurant so as not to spook her visitors.
She checked on the app to see that the children were still sleeping on their makeshift beds in Momi’s office. She wasn’t surprised, however, when the app alerted her to movement outside the walk-in—Josef was bringing out the cold rice she’d made the previous evening to press it into blocks for musubi. Her heart seemed to give a little lurch and squeeze as she watched the gangly teen set up in the kitchen, carefully laying out all the ingredients for the musubi on the work counter, including a big roll of industrial-grade plastic wrap.
She couldn’t be angry with him. Josef was working hard, just trying to survive and provide for and protect his young siblings.
She went to the back door and inserted the key quietly, deactivating the alarm with her code before it could even beep. Then she shut the door soundlessly behind her, and tiptoed through the storage area, past Momi’s office closed door, and into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Josef,” she said, reaching for her apron which was hanging from its hook on the back of the door into the main restaurant area.
Josef started and spun toward her, his eyes going wide with fright. He was wearing earbuds, which had masked her approach. “Aunty!” He exclaimed in a loud whisper, his eyes glancing toward Momi’s closed office door. “What are you doing here so early?”
Rosario tied on her apron. “I remembered I had to throw out all the hard-boiled eggs from yesterday and that there wouldn’t be any for the front counter. I thought I’d come in early, get that done, help you, and we could get an early start on the day.”
“Okay,” Josef said. He had begun scooping rice into a press where it was compacted into rectangular blocks.
Rosario moved to stand between him and the office door. The kids probably had some escape plan for if they were ever discovered, and it probably involved climbing out through the window above Momi’s desk. She didn’t want to spook them into flight. She’d be just sick if they all ran away and she couldn’t help them. Keeping her voice low, Rosario took down the big pot she cooked the eggs in. “I know what’s going on, Josef, and I want to help.”