Chapter 11 #2
She didn’t pull free but covered both of their hands with her other hand.
She sat staring at them for a long moment.
“I guess I’m still too close to what happened.
I’m fine one minute and a complete basket case seconds later.
” She looked up with a weak smile. “But I didn’t come here to indulge in uncontrolled weeping.
I came to find the bastard who won’t leave me the hell alone. ”
With each word she spoke, she straightened a little more until she sat up with her shoulders back and chin held high.
She’d been through so much, and yet she wanted to see this quest through, even if it put her life in danger. The woman had guts.
Teller admired that in her. He squeezed her hand gently and pulled his free, placing it on the steering wheel.
Before he could ask where they were going next, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
He dug it out and checked the sender. “It’s Swede again,” he said.
“He looked up Scott Williams, expecting to find him in Hawaii’s main prison, the Halawa Correctional Facility.
He wasn’t there. He was released over a month ago after serving half of his sentence and completing behavioral counseling to learn to control his anger.
He’s living in a halfway house. Swede sent the address.
” He glanced up from his cell phone. “Do you want to let the detective know about Williams?”
“Yes,” Sachie said. “But maybe not until we have a chance to check him out first.”
Teller shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking space in front of the station. “So, we’re going to the halfway house first?”
Sachie nodded. “We don’t have to confront the man. We could ask the house manager if any of the residents broke curfew the night before last. If they can prove Williams was here during that time, it takes him out of the suspect pool.”
Playing devil’s advocate, Teller pointed out, “For doing the job himself. What if he hired someone else to follow you to the Big Island?”
Sachie’s lips twisted. “That would be harder to prove.” Her eyes narrowed, and she touched a finger to her chin.
“We could ask for his phone number. You said your guy, Swede, can tap into databases. Can he tap into his cell phone provider’s database and see the numbers coming in or going out, or track where he’s going or where he’s been? ”
Teller’s brow dipped. “I’m not sure. But remember, we’re not cops. The house manager might not be willing to divulge that kind of personal information about a resident.”
“I can claim I’ve been assigned as his court-ordered counselor, and I want to get ahead of our sessions.”
“I’d think the court-ordered counselor would already have his number.”
She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. We can come up with something.”
“I’m not trying to be negative. I just want us to be prepared for pushback.”
“We’re here on Oahu, and we need to start somewhere.” Her chin set in a stubborn line. “Let’s get there and see what we’re up against.”
Teller nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Using the map application on his cell phone, he drove through the city streets, heading away from the tourist-crowded areas of Honolulu into the hills where the full-time residents who worked the resorts and businesses lived.
In an older neighborhood with homes that probably dated back to the sixties and seventies, the directions brought them to their destination in front of a two-story house, the wood siding thick with many coats of paint, the steps up to the front porch worn in the middle.
Teller had to park a block away, as the house didn’t have a garage or carport, much less a driveway.
Sachie pulled her hair back, securing it in a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Ready?”
Teller gave her a mock salute. “I’m ready, detective.”
Her lips twisted. “If we happen to run into Mr. Williams, I’d rather he didn’t recognize me immediately.”
“I’m sure he won’t. You look like one of those real housewives of whatever city they’re in now, not the mild-mannered counselor who ruined an abusive father’s life.”
“Shut up,” she said, her lips quirking on the corners. “Let’s get this over with.” Wiping the smile off her face, she pushed open her door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Teller met her at the back of the sedan and walked with her to the halfway house. He didn’t knock. Instead, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Taking the lead, he went in first.
“Can I help you?” a male voice called out through the open door to the left.
“We hope so,” he answered and waited for Sachie to step in beside him.
She breezed past him with a friendly smile on her face, her hand held out to the man seated at a desk in what might once have been a sitting room. “Good morning, Mr....” She tipped her sunglasses downward and stared around the room as though looking for a nameplate.
“Mike Foster.” The man rose to his feet and shook her hand. “What can I do for you?”
Sachie shot a brief smile toward Teller.
“I could tell you that I’m a representative of the federal prison regulatory board here to conduct a survey of halfway houses and their residents as part of a statewide effort to ensure our federal tax dollars are being spent wisely, but that would be a lie. ”
Foster crossed his arms over his chest. “Strange way to start a conversation.”
“I know.” She took off her sunglasses and sighed.
“It’s not in my nature to lie. It is, however, in my nature to get answers—especially when my life depends on it.
I’m Sachie Moore. I’ve consulted with the Hawaii Police Department and Child Protective Services.
One of my cases was a child beaten by his father...
one of your residents recently released from prison.
In the past couple of weeks, I’ve had my apartment broken into here in Honolulu, my cottage broken into when I moved to the Big Island and my new office there burned to the ground.
I’ve received threats and even been attacked by a drone.
I need to know who’s doing this and stop him. ”
“And you think it might be one of our residents?” Foster motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat.” He waited until she sank into the chair before he settled into his seat behind the desk.
“I’m going through cases that ended up in court where the abusers’ parting words were a threat to me. Scott Williams was one of those. He was released recently, and I have to start somewhere.”
“What do you need to know?” Foster asked.
“Has he broken curfew in the past two weeks?” Teller asked.
“Mr. Williams works at a meat-packing plant. Either I or the other house manager is in contact with his supervisor to make sure he arrives on time and confirm what time he leaves the facility. He goes to work early in the morning and is off by noon. It’s not the usual arrangement for our residents to work an irregular shift like that, but it can be hard to place them in gainful employment with a felony record. ”
“I can understand,” Sachie said.
“We know how long it should take for him to get to the facility, wait for a text from his supervisor when he arrives and record those times. He gets to work on time and gets back to the house on time unless he calls ahead to inform us that he’s going for a haircut or to the grocery store, which he will be doing today. ”
“Did he work yesterday morning?” Sachie asked.