The Discarded (31 page)

“Yeah, I know. Stay in the car. It’s becoming my mantra.”

“Tell me about it,” Nate said.

As Quinn put his receiver in his ear, he said, “Letter?”

Orlando pulled the sealed, white envelope out of her bag. The last thing they’d had Nadine do before they left Quebec was write Desirae a note and print the name of the contact on the envelope. Since none of them looked like they could be Desirae’s mother, it was the best plan they could come up with at the time.

“All right,” Quinn said. “Let’s give it a whirl.”

The mall was doing all-right business for a weekday afternoon. The mix seemed to be almost fifty-fifty local and tourist. Two things kept the place from looking like it could be anywhere in the United States. The first was the abundance of men wearing Hawaiian shirts, so many that Quinn felt like he stuck out. The second was the number of stores with Aloha in the title. Among these was the Aloha Kaneohe gift shop.

The store was brightly lit, with tables and displays of pretty much any type of souvenir a visitor might want. Quinn and Orlando entered separately. While Quinn browsed through the displays, Orlando headed to the checkout counter. On her way, she paused in front of a glass cabinet with locked doors.

“Well, looky here,” she said over the radio.

“What is it?” Quinn asked.

“A couple of very familiar-looking tikis.”

Orlando grabbed a hoodie off one of the shelves and a hat off another before entering the checkout line. By the time she reached the cashier, Quinn had moved over to the postcard rack not too far away.

“Aloha,” the cashier said. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“All set,” Orlando replied. “Thank you.”

The woman rang her up and Orlando paid with cash. As the bag containing her purchases was handed to her, Orlando said, “Oh my gosh, I almost forgot why I came in here in the first place. Does…”—she looked at the envelope—“Sandra Wiley still work here?”

“Ms. Wiley? Sure, she’s the manager.”

“Is she here right now?”

“Should be. Would you like me to check?”

“That would be wonderful.”

The cashier picked up a phone from the counter behind her. After she finished her call, she said, “You can wait by that door over there. She’ll be right out.”

As Orlando headed over, Quinn repositioned himself again to stay close and pulled out his phone. The moment the door opened and a thirtysomething woman stepped out, he activated the app on his screen.

“Hi, were you the one looking for me?” the woman asked.

Immediately a large circle appeared on Quinn’s display. It was filled with red dots, each representing a cell phone in range that it had just pinged. There was only one blue dot, Orlando’s phone. Right next to it, corresponding to where the woman was standing, was a red dot. Quinn tapped the dot and all the others disappeared as the app began tracking the woman’s phone.

“Are you Sandra Wiley?”

“That’s right.”

“So nice to meet you,” Orlando said, holding out her hand. “We have a friend in common.”

“We do?” the woman said, shaking Orlando’s hand. “Who?”

“Nadine Chastain.”

The woman looked at first confused, then surprised.

“I was in Montreal for a conference last weekend,” Orlando said as if she hadn’t noticed the woman’s reaction. “Nadine came down to meet me for lunch. So great seeing her again. When I told her I had meetings in Oahu this week, she insisted I stop by here and say hello. Oh!” Orlando reached into her pocket and pulled out the envelope. “She also wanted me to give you this.”

“What is it?” the woman asked, not taking it.

Orlando shrugged. “Just a note, I think.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I didn’t watch her write it.”

Wiley hesitated a moment longer before her full smile returned. “Of course,” she said, taking the envelope. “Thank you.”

“No problem. So…um…nice shop. Have you been here long?”

“A while. I’m sorry. I do apologize, but I need to get back to work. I hope you understand.”

“Of course. Have a great day.”

“You, too.”

The woman disappeared back the way she’d come.

The moment the door was closed, Orlando whispered, “I don’t think her good-bye was sincere.”

Quinn huffed but added nothing as he watched the screen.

The red dot representing Sandra Wiley’s cell phone had moved twenty feet beyond the door and stopped. Her office? That seemed logical. The dot flashed yellow, indicating the woman had sent a text. No way to know what it said or who it was sent to, but given the timing, Quinn had little doubt it had gone to Desirae.

As the dot moved again, he said, “She’s on the go.”

Instead of heading back into the shop, though, Wiley went in the opposite direction and made a sharp left turn.

“Service corridor heading north,” he said. He hurried out of the store to where Orlando had repositioned.

So that he didn’t have to focus on the phone, he handed it to her and began walking quickly through the mall, parallel to the path the woman was taking. Keeping his eyes on the shops, he searched for an unmarked entrance to the employees-only area.

Before he found one, Orlando said, “She’s descending.”

He spotted the nearest escalator and took it down to the ground floor.

“Which way?” he whispered, as he reached the central area where the three wings of the mall met.

“North…no, no, changing to northwest.”

Quinn looked toward the wing that jetted off to the right, just in time to see Wiley pass through another doorway to a service corridor.

“Nate,” Quinn said. “Wherever she’s going, it should be off the northwest wing somewhere.”

“Got it,” Nate said.

Quinn angled over to the access door Wiley had used and found it unlocked. As soon as he passed inside, he could see her in the distance. When she looked back at him, he kept his pace normal and acted as if he were another mall employee on some random errand. Given that she didn’t race away, he figured his ruse had worked.

About three quarters of the way to the end of the wing, she exited through a doorway on the right.

“Think she just went outside,” he said. “The northeast-facing wall.”

“Pulling into that area right now,” Nate replied.

As Quinn neared the door, he said, “Update.”

“She’s stationary,” Orlando replied. “Hasn’t moved for the last fifteen seconds.”

Quinn could think of only one reason for that. “She’s in a car. Nate, did you get that? She’s—”

“I see her,” Nate said. “A green MINI Cooper.”

“On the move again,” Orlando said.

“That’s because she’s pulling out,” Nate told them. “Am I go with follow?”

“Yes,” Quinn said. “Go!”

__________

T
HROUGH HER BINOCULARS,
Gloria surveyed the
narrow strip of land Martinez’s techs had narrowed the search area down to.

The mountain valley sat on the windward side of Oahu, northwest of the town of Kaneohe. According to official records, a total of eleven homes were scattered along it, each sitting on multiple-acre lots. Research in DC had run the names of all the owners and known residents, but only a few traffic tickets and one police response to a domestic dispute were kicked back.

By all appearances, just a quiet, if spread out, neighborhood.

She walked back to the sedan where her team was waiting.

“I’ve double-checked the maps,” King said. “The road peters out about a half mile above the valley so there’s only one way in or out.”

“Good,” she said. “We start at the bottom and work our way up. Everyone in.”

__________

N
ATE AND ABRAHAM
followed the
MINI Cooper east on Haiku Road and then north on Kahekili Highway, never letting the vehicle get more than four cars ahead.

“Relax,” Nate said, sensing Abraham’s tension.

“I am relaxed,” Abraham snapped.

“Really?”

“I mean…it’s just, well, we’re so close.”

Nate couldn’t begrudge him his anticipation. The man had been obsessing about this for seven years.

A few minutes later, the MINI turned onto Kamehameha Highway, but only stayed there for about a minute before turning onto a side road into what seemed a more residential neighborhood.

Nate gave the MINI a little more distance before he took the turn. When he did, he found himself at the top of a slope. The MINI had reached the bottom and was pulling off into what appeared to be a park. Nate angled across the street onto the shoulder and killed the engine.

“Call Quinn,” he said to Abraham. “Tell him where we are. But
stay
in the car.”

He jumped out before Abraham could respond, and headed down the small hill. Unlike Quinn, he was dressed for the islands, having put on shorts and a T-shirt before they landed. To finish the look, he pulled out a set of earbuds, plugged them into his phone, and started nodding his head to music that wasn’t playing.

When he reached the bottom, he saw that Wiley had pulled into a small parking lot next to the park. A few other cars were there, too—all, including the MINI, empty.

The park itself was not large. There was a basketball court near the parking area, and to the side a grassy area big enough for a decent game of international football. Near the center, close to the road, was a tan cinderblock building that had to be restrooms, and not too far away a sign that read:
LAENANI BEACH PARK
.

Nate entered the restrooms, going in only far enough so that he was masked by the shadows. There were three people in the park, a woman playing with a dog down at the far end of the grassy area, and two teenage boys shooting hoops. Sandra Wiley was nowhere in sight.

He looked past the parking area, wondering if she had gone into one of the nearby homes. As he swept his gaze back across the park, he noticed the top of someone’s head just beyond the edge of the park across from him.

The beach. It was below the level of the park a good four and a half feet. Needing a better view, he walked around the court to a picnic table near the ocean side and leaned against it.

The person on the beach was indeed Wiley, so he took off his shoes, hopped over the short wall onto the sand, and walked into the water. It was warm and inviting, just the way he liked it.

After a few seconds, he turned and started walking parallel to the land, expecting to see the woman still standing where she’d been, but instead she was heading back to the parking area access way.

What the hell? She was leaving, but without meeting anyone?

Maybe she’d been killing time until she was supposed to meet Desirae somewhere else. Which would mean he needed to get back to his car in a hurry. But wouldn’t she have left her shop later? He stepped out of the water intending to return to the car, but his gut was telling him he was missing something, that Wiley didn’t come here on a whim.

He looked toward the spot where she had been leaning against the wall, and noticed a crack between the blocks running halfway up from the bottom. Nothing special; there were other cracks. But this was the only one that had a spot of white peeking from it.

He looked toward the parking lot. The woman had almost reached her MINI. If he sprinted, he might be able to get back to Abraham before she drove past, but not without her seeing him and likely wondering what he was doing.

He moved back into the water, trusting his instincts, and started walking again. Behind him he could hear the MINI’s engine spring to life, followed soon by the roar of it driving away.

The crack was now only a dozen feet ahead and across the beach. He swung his gaze left and right, taking in the beauty of his surroundings. His pace didn’t falter as he passed the crack. No one would have been able to tell he had the slightest interest in it.

His gamble had paid off. The woman was now unimportant.

Jammed in the crack was a white envelope.

CHAPTER
31

O
RLANDO FLIPPED THE
page and stared at the words without actually reading them.

As soon as she and Quinn caught up to Nate and Abraham, she had taken over observation duty and was now sitting at the picnic table, reading a trade paperback copy of
Wool
by Hugh Howey that Abraham had been carrying around.

Since she’d moved into position, only two other people had ventured onto the beach, neither coming close to the crack containing the envelope.

“It’s starting to get dark,” she whispered without moving her lips. After the sun set, pretending to read would no longer be a viable ruse.

“You’ve got at least ten minutes,” Quinn said.

“Maybe we’ve already been made.”

“Let’s hope not.”

She let the appropriate amount of time pass and turned the page again.

“Car,” Nate said. He and Abraham had moved into the parking lot of the Episcopal church at the top of the rise. “Turning onto Laenani Drive now.”

“I see it,” Quinn said. “And old Jeep CJ7. Dark blue. Black hardtop. Pulling into the parking lot. Hold on…okay, got the license.” He read off the number.

“Running it now,” Nate said.

Quinn took up commentary again. “Door’s opening. I have…a woman exiting. She’s the right age but her hair’s black and long. Don’t have a good angle on her face so can’t say for sure. Heads up, Orlando. She’s headed your way.”

Orlando made no move to acknowledge the steps echoing off the asphalt behind her. She was just someone enjoying a good story. As the person from the Jeep moved past the table and onto the beach, Orlando turned the page again. The clacking echoes were now replaced by shifting sand along the wall.

Orlando softly clucked her tongue once, letting the others know the woman was heading toward the crack.

“Got an owner on the car. Karla Bishop. Age thirty-seven.” Nate read off an address. “Checking the map…okay, got it. It’s in the hills northwest another ten miles or so. Satellite image doesn’t really show much. Looks pretty overgrown.”