Chapter 11 #3
Foster ran his fingers across a computer keyboard and stared at the monitor. “No. He was off work that day.”
She frowned. “Was he here at the house during that time?”
The manager’s brow dipped in concentration. “Our records indicate he never left the house.”
“Did you or one of the other managers actually see him at all yesterday?” Teller asked.
Foster shook his head. “I wasn’t on duty yesterday.
I could call my counterpart and ask if he has laid eyes on Williams. But he would’ve noted when he left and came in, if he actually left the building.
There’s only one door they can use to enter or leave the house. The other is locked twenty-four-seven.”
“Is there always someone at this desk?” Teller asked.
Foster nodded. “Yes.”
“What about bathroom or smoking breaks?”
“Well, we make exceptions for those. We aren’t meant to be a prison, but rather a transition from prison to regular life.
” Foster leaned his elbows on the desk. “Look, I’ve only had a few conversations with Scott since he arrived.
His records indicate he’s sober now and plans to stay that way.
He also said he regrets what he did to his kid.
He told me he’s going to work hard to prove to the court he can be a good parent so he can regain custody of the boy. ”
“I really hope he is turning his life around,” Sachie said. “So many children would rather go back to a parent they know than to be passed around in the foster care system, even if they suffered some kind of abuse with that parent.”
“You say Mr. Williams is at work today?” Teller asked. “Did you record what time he left to go?”
Foster shook his head. “No. Bryan was on that shift. He would’ve made the entry.” He stared at the computer monitor, a frown denting his forehead. “Unfortunately, he didn’t record it this morning. I don’t know why I didn’t see that. Nor did he record the supervisor’s text.”
Teller tensed.
“I got here an hour ago and did get a call from Williams telling me he had an errand to run after he left work today, so he’d be later getting back than usual.
Hold on.” Foster picked up his cell phone and placed a call.
For a long moment, he listened without saying anything.
“Bryan’s not answering. That’s not unusual.
He’s probably sleeping since he had the night shift.
” He placed another call. “Hello, this is Mike Foster. Is Scott Williams at work today? He is? Do you know what time he clocked in?” His brow furrowed.
“Doesn’t he usually report in at four a.m.?
I see.” He nodded. “No. I don’t need to speak to him.
Just checking in. Thank you.” He ended the call.
“Apparently, Williams wasn’t scheduled to work today but got called to fill in for someone who was going to be late.
He arrived at eight and should get off at noon.
I can’t explain why it wasn’t recorded, but he is at the plant now. ”
“What plant is that?” Sachie asked.
“The one in Kapolei,” Foster said. “Are you going to pay him a visit out there?”
Sachie’s brow wrinkled. “Maybe. I’d like to ask him some questions, but I don’t want to get him in trouble with his boss. Does he take public transport, or does he drive his own vehicle?”
“A friend of his kept his car while he was in prison. It’s a gray sedan with a sticker of a turtle on the back windshield.”
Sachie rose from the chair and extended her hand. “Thank you for everything.”
“I hope you find the guy causing you problems,” he said and grimaced. “And I hope it’s not Williams. He seemed sincere about wanting to get his son back.”
“I hope it isn’t him as well,” Sachie said.
She led the way out of the house.
Teller pulled the door closed and descended the porch steps with Sachie.
She glanced back at the house and then ducked between the house and the one beside it.
“Where are you going?” Teller asked, hurrying to catch up.
“I just wanted to check something out.” She walked around the two-story building, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the house from every angle, making a complete circle around it.
Teller studied it as well. Nothing stood out until they rounded the other side, where a metal fire escape clung to the siding near the far corner next to a window.
“Think he might have slipped out a window and down the fire escape?” Teller studied the rusty metal. “Doesn’t look very sturdy.”
She shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”
Once they were back in the rental car, Teller asked. “Where now?”
“Kapolei,” she said. “It’s on the other side of the airport from here.”
“Do you think he could’ve left the house undetected and had enough time to fly to the Big Island, do everything he did and still get back in time to go to work at eight in the morning?
“There are early flights from Hilo that could get him back in time,” she said.
“And if he was home by noon the day before my cottage was broken into, he could’ve been on the Big Island the entire time, and the people at the halfway house wouldn’t have been any the wiser—seeing as they had no record of him going to work this morning. ”