by Debra Bokur
“Captain, what would you like me to do?”
“I would like,” said Walter, standing next to Abraham, “for you to remind this citizen that this is an official police interview, and unless he would like to spend the next hour in a holding cell, he should wait quietly outside the building in his vehicle.”
“You have no authority over my husband,” interrupted the woman, scowling menacingly.
“Am I to understand you are Ruth Waters?” asked Kali, stepping past the counter. She had imagined a gentle, passive woman—not the angry, rabid one in front of her.
“Yes, that’s my name,” Ruth snarled. “My family and I answer to a higher power.”
“Well . . . that may be true eventually,” said Walter, keeping his cool. He looked directly into Ruth’s eyes. “However, in the present moment, you, your husband, and your grandson will all answer to the Maui police authority. Now, I need to hear verbal confirmation from both of you that you will not cause a disturbance while we’re interviewing your husband. Have I made myself clear?”
Ruth looked toward Abraham, who gave a brief nod.
“Fine,” said Ruth. “My husband has graciously indicated that you may speak with him. We will wait.” Her eyes swept from Kali and Walter to Hara. “My grandson and I will pass the time praying for each of you, that you may see the True Light.”
Walter’s eyebrows rose. Kali could tell from the way his lips moved that he was doing his best not to laugh out loud.
Hara looked at Ruth in disbelief. “Captain, should I . . .”
“Not necessary, Hara,” said Walter. “These people will wait outside.” Walter turned to the duty officer. “Should either of these individuals attempt to enter the building while I am interviewing Mr. Waters, they are to be placed under arrest for obstructing a police investigation. Feel free to interrupt me in the interview room.”
Walter turned away without another look at Ruth or Nathan, and spoke directly to Abraham. “This way, Mr. Waters.” He glanced at Kali. She followed them as they came through the barrier into the interior of the station and walked to the interview room. Walter led Abraham inside, directing Hara to get a glass of water for him. Kali stood just outside the door, fingering the tip of the coroner’s report in her pocket, and watched as Walter checked the recording equipment. When Hara returned, Walter joined her outside of the interview room, closing the door behind him, leaving Hara to guard over Abraham.
“I’d like you to ask the questions,” he said. “I’ll jump in when I need to, but I think it will throw him off his game a bit to be questioned by a woman. Hara will be watching though the one-way glass so there’s another official observer.”
She nodded, then pulled the report from her pocket and thrust it into his hands. “Get a load of this,” she said.
Walter read it, frowning. He looked up, his face clearing. He whistled through his teeth, the sound low and full of astonishment. “Damn,” he said. “This is unexpected. What’s your conclusion?”
“I’m not sure. But I don’t want Abraham to know we have this information right now, so let’s keep it to ourselves for the moment. Have you already offered him legal representation?”
“Yup.” He snorted. “He says there is no legal authority in existence except for his partner in the clouds.”
“Just checking all the boxes.”
He nodded. “Have to do it. You ready?”
Kali nodded her assent. As they entered the interview room, Hara left to take his place out of Abraham’s sight, behind the glass. Abraham looked up and smiled, his sparkling eyes unfathomable. Kali studied his blue shirt and his white linen trousers. She could see one of his sandals sticking out along the side of the table; his tanned foot matched the sun-browned tone of his face and arms. His silvery, coal-streaked hair was tucked behind his ears, curling over the neckline of his shirt. He looked comfortable, completely at ease. She felt sickened by his proximity.
“Nice to see you again, Detective,” he said. His voice was caressing.
So that’s how you’re going to play it, she thought to herself. She was more than familiar with suspects who sought to dominate an interview in exactly this way—by speaking first and giving the impression that they were in control of the conversation. She ignored him, sitting down in one of the two chairs that faced him. Walter sat down beside her. He reached toward the voice recording device on the table, his finger poised on the switch that would activate it.
“We’ll be recording our conversation today,” said Kali. She signaled Walter, who turned on the recorder. Kali stated the date, time, and the full names and titles of all who were present. She read Abraham his rights again. Her voice was flat, without emotion. When she’d finished, she focused her gaze on him.
“We’ve heard a lot about your program at Eden’s River, Abraham,” she said, deliberately choosing not to address him as Mr. Waters. “I’m particularly interested in the relationships you developed with the women members of your cult.”
He seemed to understand that her choice to use only his first name was meant to demonstrate a lack of respect. He looked up, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes unblinking.
“Cult? My goodness, such a dark word. Eden’s River is a church, inhabited by God-fearing, God-loving individuals who seek to develop respectful, healthy lifestyles that lead to happiness and harmony.” He shook his head gently, as though she were a child who had somehow disappointed him. “Shame on you, Detective.” He turned his gaze to Walter. “You suggested we would be having a conversation—yet this feels more like an interrogation than it does an interview.”
The musical cadence of his voice made the words seem almost like a song.
“Does it?” Kali said. “Let’s talk about what’s led you here. I understand that you are the surgeon who ruined the career of a young soccer player, destroying any chances for his future with a professional team.”
“Stories always have more than one side,” he said. “If God has meant for someone to excel at a sport, they will do so, led by Him.”
Kali narrowed her gaze. “So you feel comfortable using your God as a scapegoat?”
His smile was enigmatic. “I realized when you came to my home and questioned me that you are a person without any faith.”
“We aren’t talking about me, Abraham. We’re talking about you. Just you. You were quite active in your church in Chicago, and some of the wealthier members of your congregation apparently felt you were a good investment. A lot of money was funneled your way to set up and open your retreat on Lna‘i, and to keep you going for quite a few years. Your members turned over property and financial savings to you. What is it that they received in return—other than personal ruin and the destruction of their marriages and families? Is your God proud of you for all of your hard work building a pedestal for yourself?”
There was a flicker across his brow. “All that I do, all that I have done, all that I shall undertake in the future, is for the glory of God.”
“The glory of you, you mean. Accumulation of wealth and real estate, control over other people, adoration from your followers that feeds your distorted sense of self-worth. That’s not about any God. That’s about Abraham.”
“Every worldly possession and every donation received by Eden’s River has been used to further our ministry.”
“Well, I’ll admit to being impressed that you didn’t use it to build yourself a mega-church complex, or to buy a fleet of private planes, or a castle, as so many successful evangelists have done before you. At least you’ve kept it simple in the material goods department. But what about the lives you’ve taken control of and destroyed? Perhaps you could attach a rough estimate to what they’ve been worth?”
He looked at her, appearing genuinely sorrowful. “You are blind. Everything you’ve mentioned has been freely given. Gifts directed by God.”
“Have I hurt your feelings, Abraham? I didn’t take you for the sensitive type. Tell me about the punishments you meted out, the spankin
gs and humiliation. Did you sleep with all of the female residents of Eden’s River, or did you have some kind of age restriction?”
Abraham shrugged, still outwardly composed. “Isn’t it considered rude to ask a woman her age?”
Walter shifted in his chair. Kali could feel the heat from his body, as though his temperature were rising in response to Abraham’s closeness. She knew that Walter was most likely thinking of his own three daughters.
“Are you saying you are unable to make the distinction between a woman and a child?” she continued, keeping her voice calm. “Or are you saying you are simply unwilling to make that distinction?”
Abraham leaned forward. “I have done nothing wrong. Are you arresting me? If so, please explain the charges. You asked me to come here to tell you about our community, and I have done so.”
Kali ignored him. “Clearly, based on numerous witness reports, you were unconcerned with whether or not these women were of age, or whether they were married or in relationships with others.”
There was a scrape of metal on the cement floor of the interview room as Abraham sat back in his chair. He regarded her solemnly. “When I was a young medical student, I had a revelation. A vision, you might say. I saw myself saving lives and healing people. I was able to do that through my work as a surgeon, but it wasn’t enough. I knew my calling was higher, that my reach needed to be wider. The idea of the Eden’s River community was born of the desire to serve my God. I do not expect you to understand that, or to respect it. Nevertheless, it is the truth. I believe that those lost souls who come to me are led by a divine spirit. I do not question their relationship status, or demand the details of their lives prior to our meeting. They share what they choose to share.”
“Yet, you urged them to cast all of that away. Entire lives. Families.”
“I ask nothing of the sort. Those who do so were and are inspired by something far beyond me. Far beyond you.”
“Seems like your wife might have minded a little bit. All those beautiful young women with their lithe, smooth bodies. And there she was, aging in the sunlight right beside you. Is she a jealous woman?”
“She is not. She is a willing and generous servant of the Lord.”
“Who likes to spank other women?”
“Discipline is a valuable teacher.”
“You were quoted as saying you felt your God working through you when you performed surgery. Based on your performance history and that poor soccer player, it seems as though He may have taken a few days off now and then.”
“Miracles cannot be explained,” Abraham said. His smile was benign. He said nothing more, but sat looking at her.
Kali reached into her pocket and pulled out the tiny anchor charm. She removed it from the plastic bag and held it up, then pushed it across the table toward him.
“And what about this? Was this a good luck charm you carried in the pocket of your scrubs just in case God wasn’t answering the phone?”
Abraham leaned forward, examining the small object. A look of absolute disbelief flooded his face. He looked up at Kali and Walter sharply, then moved his chair closer to the table. He reached forward and lifted the charm from the table.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice losing its smooth cadence. Kali felt Walter shift beside her, and tried to hide her own surprise at the response. Abraham’s reaction struck her immediately as genuine. Though his shock at seeing the charm appeared to be sincere, he clearly recognized it.
“Never mind where I got it,” she said. She spoke her next words emphatically. “Do you know who it belonged to?”
The expression on Abraham’s face had become guarded. His eyelids drooped slightly. He looked down at the charm again, then up at Kali. He had regained his composure.
“This is a common Christian symbol,” he said. “As for whom it might have belonged to . . .”
“Perhaps a young girl, wearing a bracelet with tiny anchors dangling from it? Your daughter Abigail, for instance. We have reason to believe this anchor charm belonged to her.”
Abraham shrugged, but Kali could see that he was disturbed. “Children’s baubles. She had so many. I’m sure I can’t say with any certainty.”
“Perhaps you could say why this anchor and two others identical to it were found buried with human remains in the pineapple field just beyond the property line of Eden’s River?”
His face tightened. Kali had no doubt that he was struggling to parse this information, and that he was troubled by it.
“How interesting,” he said. “I suppose I should be grateful that these remains you mention were not found on the church property.” He grew suddenly restless. “I assume that now I’ve answered your questions, I am free to leave?”
“Certainly,” said Kali. She turned to Walter. “Is there anything you’d like to add or ask before Abraham gets on with his day? He must be very busy with the details of his new property on Maui, and with making sure he develops a sales pitch to attract a new batch of young women to colonize it.”
Walter addressed Abraham. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Waters. Please do not leave the island. I feel confident that we’ll have more questions for you quite soon.” He stood up, and Abraham rose to his feet. Kali remained in her chair, her hands folded in her lap, smiling up at Abraham.
“I look forward to chatting again, Abraham. Until then, enjoy your day.”
Walter signaled to Hara at the glass, and he appeared in the doorway to escort Abraham out of the room. Walter and Kali listened as the front door to the station opened and closed. Hara rejoined them, and they sat back down at the table together.
“He was really taken aback to see the anchor charm, wasn’t he?” said Hara.
Kali nodded. “Shocked.” She looked thoughtful. “I’d like to get Bill Bragden in for more questioning. Let’s bring him over here to do it. I’d like to get him away from his house where he’ll be less comfortable.”
“Will do,” said Walter. “We’ll bring him over first thing in the morning.” He looked at Kali, a question in his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything to him about what’s in that autopsy report you showed me?”
“I’m saving that,” she said. “It might be more effective to show it to Abigail.” She took the paper out of her pocket and handed it to Hara, who scanned it quickly.
Hara looked from one of them to the other. His face grew flushed and he fidgeted slightly.
Walter sighed and shook his head. “What is it, Hara?” he asked.
“I’m just wondering, Captain.” Hara looked at Kali. “Detective Mhoe, does all of this implicate Abigail Waters in the killings?”
“I don’t know if we can prove that she was physically there, or if maybe she was a small part of some ritual that involved the killings,” answered Kali. “She didn’t move a refrigerator on her own. But her bracelet was certainly there. And I think we can safely use the term murder now. None of this was spur-of-the-moment.”
CHAPTER 28
Instead of going directly home, Kali drove to the hospital to pick up Makena. She was preoccupied with processing the things that Abraham had said, and couldn’t keep her mind from speculating about all the things he hadn’t said. There was little conversation on the drive. By the time she’d parked the Jeep and helped Makena up the steps and inside the house, the light was growing dim. Hilo had rushed out to greet them when she opened the door, and had followed Makena to the sofa. She reached out to scratch his back. He wriggled happily at her touch.
“Let me fix you something for dinner,” said Kali, wondering if she had anything in the refrigerator to make up a meal.
“Oh, now you talk to me,” said Makena. The testiness had returned to her voice. She leaned against the back of the sofa and glared at Kali. Hilo lay down by Makena’s feet, panting.
“Sorry,” said Kali. She realized too late that she’d hardly spoken to Makena throughout the drive. “I’m not ignoring you intentionally, it’s just . . .”
“That you’re trying to solve a crime, and that’s more important,” said Makena. She pushed herself off the sofa and moved to the table. She pulled out a chair and sat down. “No worries. I’m used to it. Dad was the same way. I know where I fall on the list of what’s important and what’s not.”
Kali bit her lip. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of eggs and a small plate that held half a stick of butter. She rummaged around in the crisper drawer that held a few miscellaneous vegetables and removed a half-empty bag of spinach and part of an onion that was wrapped in plastic.
“It’s not like that,” she said. She tried again. “Why don’t you make us a pot of tea, and I’ll make omelets?”
“Did you learn to cook?” asked Makena, making no effort to hide her sarcasm.
Kali froze, holding the bag of spinach in one hand, the onion in the other. She looked at Makena, then burst out laughing, unable to help herself. To her surprise, Makena began to laugh as well.
“You’re thinking of those brownies, aren’t you?” Kali said, recalling a long-ago afternoon when she’d attempted to bake brownies from scratch, using a recipe from a cookbook she’d found on one of Mike’s kitchen shelves. The results had been inedible, and Kali had been appalled to see the level of disappointment reflected on the faces of both father and daughter when they’d bitten into the dry, crumbling squares of chocolate.
Makena got up and walked over to the counter where the electric kettle was plugged into a wall socket. “Yeah. That and everything else.” She glanced at the food Kali was transferring to the counter. “Is there any cheese?” she asked.
Kali looked back into the fridge. “A little goat’s cheese,” she answered. “It’s got herbs in it. Is that okay?”
Makena nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” She eyed the vegetables in Kali’s hands. “But no onion for me. Gives me heartburn.”
