The Green Room by Deborah Turrell Atkinson Page B

woman’s emotions.
    Ben slumped in the passenger seat of Storm’s car. “I’d better get home.”
    â€œWant me to call your mom and tell her you’re with me?”
    â€œNo.” Ben’s voice was much more abrupt than it needed to be, and Storm once again wondered about the dynamics between him and his parents. There were secrets in that family, and Uncle Miles’ warnings about family secrets and how no one came out on top in a bitter divorce chafed like sand in a bathing suit.

Chapter Fourteen
    Ben had only monosyllabic responses to any of Storm’s attempts at conversation on the way back to Haleiwa. He did direct her down the street where Nahoa lived, and they crawled past his dark, closed cottage. Two newspapers in their waterproof plastic bags sat on the front step where the paperboy had tossed them. It was obvious no one was home.
    Storm dropped him off at the townhouse where he and Stephanie lived and declined a polite, but perfunctory invitation to come in. On the way from Haleiwa to Laniakea, she stopped at the Food Town and bought a few grocery items, but her mind was occupied with whether she’d been as moody as Ben, Goober, and Sunny when she was their age. She’d probably been worse.
    At sixteen, she had endured the Big Island police department’s scrutiny for allegedly cultivating pakalolo , which she was definitely doing; they just hadn’t located her patch in the sugar cane fields—yet. Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone didn’t doubt her activities for a minute, so they shipped her to O‛ahu, Miles Hamasaki’s household, and a much stricter high school. At seventeen, she was depressed enough to flirt with the idea of ending the struggle like her mother, with a bottle of pills. If it hadn’t been for the Hamasakis, Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone, she’d have checked out.
    With those thoughts, the beach cottage felt empty and lonely. She poured Yoshida’s Teriyaki Sauce over a chicken breast and settled it on the grill, then went back inside to call Hamlin.
    â€œDon’t you ever check your phone?” he asked her.
    Sure enough, there were four messages on her mobile phone. “I didn’t hear it ring. But I was running around quite a bit.”
    â€œWere you back in the mountains?”
    â€œYes, Nahoa’s girlfriend, Sunny, shares a house with some other surfers in Pupukea. The signal is probably weak back there.” She went on to tell him about how Nahoa hadn’t shown up for a date Monday, so she and Ben had gone to talk with Sunny. She also filled him in on her cousin’s reputation with women, the upcoming tow-in surf contest, and Stephanie’s fears.
    â€œWhen are you coming back to town?”
    â€œCould I talk you into coming out for the tournament?”
    â€œWhen does it start?”
    â€œFrom what Stephanie told me, the holding period started today and the surf is coming up. If the swell is big enough, they’ll start the qualifying round Thursday or Friday afternoon.”
    â€œI’ve got two depositions on Friday, but I could leave town around five. Come back and we’ll drive out together.”
    â€œI want to hang around and see if I can find Nahoa. I’m worried about him.”
    â€œYou need to talk to the police.”
    â€œI did. I talked to Brian Chang.” She told him about Matsumoto’s injuries and how she wanted to ask some of the locals if he’d received a package like Nahoa’s.
    â€œStorm, I worry about you out there alone, asking questions.”
    â€œChances are, Nahoa pissed someone off over a woman. He’s probably lying low for a while. I’m mostly just going to surf. If I’m lucky, I’ll see him. At least I’ll see some of his friends.”
    â€œBe careful, okay?”
    â€œI will and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    The next thing on Storm’s list was to touch base with Leila and see if she’d