Chapter 15
By the time her father texted her that he and Stan were waiting for an Uber to take them to the airport, the sun prepared to set and Lainie had come to her senses.
Everything still hurt, emotionally and physically as the scrapes on her arm and face throbbed, and everything was still raw, but she was back in control of her emotions, and she met him in the hotel lobby.
“Sorry I wigged out on you, Dad. I’m not really sure how to handle all of this.”
He smiled. “I get it, baby, I get it.” He gave her a hug. “I don’t know that either.”
She looked around her father. “Where’s Stan?”
“Bathroom. The car will be here in a few minutes.”
“You don’t mind if I stay here and keep searching, do you?”
Before he could speak, Stan walked up. “What do you think you can accomplish? You’re not a cop here.” His tone was sharp and a little snarky.
Lainie waited for a beat before she responded. “I’m going to talk to the witnesses, get my own read on what happened.”
“You can do that?”
“Yamada said he’d send me the report.”
“Why don’t you just leave it alone?” he snapped. “She’s gone. You can’t bring her back.”
“I can’t let it go.”
For a second, they glared at one another.
Lainie knew that everyone handled grief differently.
As Stan’s anger incensed her, she realized she had her own anger problem.
She had no pity or compassion for him at that moment.
He was showing a side she’d never seen, and she didn’t like it any more than any of the other sides she’d already seen.
All she could think was, what did Evie ever see in him?
“Okay, okay.” Dad stepped between them. “Everyone is on edge right now. And I think our car is here.”
Stan turned away first, his gaze following her dad’s hand as he waved toward the Uber.
“Call me when you get home, Dad.” She gave him a kiss good-bye, then stepped back as they loaded their things into the car. Once they were gone, Lainie went back up to the room, hoping Yamada had sent the file he’d promised to send.
The detective came through: The report was waiting for her when Lainie opened her e-mail.
He’d included contact information for the witnesses.
She read through the statements. The woman who’d screamed and alerted everyone to the shark was identified as Gail Boyce.
She claimed she’d seen the shark and blood in the water, was certain she also heard a woman scream.
Boyce listed a local residence address and a workplace address in the Queens’ Marketplace.
Lainie guessed this was the woman featured on the tourist’s cell phone video.
Lainie made a mental note of the shop and planned to head over there when she rented a car.
According to the report, one of the men who had said he saw a shark fin was a tourist from Washington state. Lainie wrote down his phone number. The other local who said he saw the shark gave an address up the road in Waikoloa Village.
Briefly she considered the photo of what evidence had been located—a bit of snorkel and a mask.
A second newer e-mail arrived from Yamada where he explained about how Evie was now classified. Evangeline Moffit—missing, presumed victim of a shark encounter.
Swallowing tears, Lainie went back to the crime report. Nothing more was there than what she’d seen on the news. Lainie wanted to hear the story firsthand from the witnesses.
Oh, Lord, won’t you tell me why this happened?
Tears threatened anew. After getting up from her computer, she went to the bathroom and washed her face again, wincing at the sore red spot on her chin.
The emotional tenor of the day had drained Lainie of all energy.
She did not feel like leaving the room again for any reason, and her mind was too scattered to interview people.
She walked back to the report on her screen and saw that the witness from Washington state, Jerry Fontaine, should be home by now. After checking the time in his home state, she punched in his number. This was one interview she felt she could conduct. He answered after two rings.
“Mr. Fontaine?”
“Speaking.”
“My name in Lainie Jensen, Detective Lainie Jensen. I wondered if you had a couple minutes to talk to me about the incident in Hawaii?”
“The shark attack, ah, sure. But I told the police everything that day. I’m not sure I can add anything. They haven’t found her yet?”
Lainie cleared her throat. “No, they haven’t. Sometimes memories get clearer the further away one is from the trauma. Did you actually see the shark?”
“Ah, I think so. There was this woman on the beach screaming, ‘shark.’ She pointed, I looked to where she pointed. I think I saw a fin. I didn’t see the woman—you know, the missing one.”
“The woman yelling was certain she saw the shark?”
“She was making such a racket, everyone got out of the water because of her screams.”
He couldn’t tell her much else. She ended the call and then lay down on the bed.
First thing in the morning she would find out about renting a car.
She’d visit the shop where Gail Boyce worked and then find the local witness, Kimo Alonzo, to talk to him.
Would that help anything? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she had to try.
Ben returned to his room, still thinking about Elaine Jensen being hit by a car.
The only way he could find out exactly what had happened to her was to ask her, and he didn’t want to do that.
It might be possible to find out what kind of vehicle Crystal Benton had rented, but his hunch was so flimsy. Did Benton even know Detective Jensen?
Was it possible to be too suspicious of someone?
No, not someone like Benton.
Fatigue hit Ben at that moment, and he shut down his computer and left his room to get something to eat at one of the many restaurants in the resort. He needed to wind down, stop his mind from churning, and get some rest. Once back in his room, sleep came quickly.
The next morning Ben woke up feeling somewhat rested. As early as he could he went downstairs to take a swim in the huge Hilton pool before it filled with families and kids. Then he grabbed a coffee and a breakfast sandwich to take back to the room and eat while he reviewed everything anew.
The incident with Jensen and the car still weighed heavily on him.
He tried to put it out of his mind and return to the original problem: the shark attack.
He read over the police report he’d received from Yamada.
Specifically, the witnesses listed. He wanted to reinterview everyone he could.
A total of three people were listed as witnesses, one resided in Washington and another two were local.
He decided to visit the local witnesses first and then call the out-of-town witness later.
He called Mark to update him and got his voicemail. After that, he finished his breakfast, then showered and changed for the day.
When he left the hotel, he drove to the Queens’ shops first. There, according to the report, a woman by the name of Gail Boyce worked.
She was the main police witness the day of the attack.
Queens’ Marketplace was an open shopping area with a large market, several restaurants, and many specialty shops.
Boyce had told police that she was employed at a small shop that sold locally made items. He found the shop easily enough and was told that Gail’s shift started later in the afternoon.
He continued to the residence of the second local witness, in Waikoloa Village, about six miles away. Kimo Alonzo lived in a cluster of condos near a golf course. Ben knocked on the door, hoping Alonzo was home and not at work.
The door opened and a man, face scrunched with suspicion, peered out. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Alonzo?”
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m an FBI agent”—Ben held up his ID—“investigating the incident the other day, the shark attack. I just wanted to go over Mr. Alonzo’s statement. It concerns an insurance claim.”
The man relaxed visibly, opened the door wider, and leaned against the door frame. “I’m Kimo. What do you want to know?”
“Did you see the shark?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I heard the lady scream. I looked out into the water. I saw something. I was there with my cousins. I was more interested in getting them out of the water.”
“Did you see the woman who disappeared?”
He shook his head. “The woman who saw the shark, she was hysterical. I was afraid she’d have a heart attack. She got most of my attention. So much noise she made. I kept an eye on her. I’m training to be an EMT. I tried to calm her down.”
“Did you see the man who said his wife was gone?”
Kimo nodded. “I called 911 for him. He didn’t seem to know what to do.”
Ben hadn’t seen that tidbit mentioned. He’d assumed Moffit called the police.
“Did you see blood or anything?”
“Nah.”
“Is there anything you can tell me that maybe you remembered after you spoke to the police?”
Alonzo thought for a moment. “Something weird, but it was later, after the police came.”
“What happened?”
“The lady who screamed, and the guy, the husband, it almost seemed like they knew each other. They stood close for a minute and then separated to talk to the cops.”
It was Ben’s turn to pause. “After the police came? Before the search?”
“Yeah, I was leaving with the kids. They didn’t want to leave; they wanted to see everything. I made them go. I saw those two, and they were going to hug.”
“Maybe one stranger comforting another stranger?”
He shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“Can you describe the woman?”
“A tourist. Pale skin, dark reddish-brown hair to her shoulders, tall but not quite as tall as me. I’m six feet. She wasn’t really dressed for the beach. She had white shorts on and a flowery blouse.”
“Anything else?”
Kimo thought for a minute, then shook his head.
“Thanks for your help.”
“FBI? Was the attack a scam?”
“I don’t know. I’m just asking questions. If you remember anything else, tell the police, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Ben pondered what Kimo had told him. He stopped at his car, stunned, when a realization hit.
Kimo had described Crystal Benton. Though her hair was not reddish, it was brown.
Ben realized what was off about Benton when he saw her in the hotel.
There had been a reddish tint to her normally dark hair. And the cut was shorter than normal.
Evangeline Moffit had reddish-brown hair. Heart rate spiking, Ben hurried back to the hotel. He needed to pull up some photos and make some comparisons.