“I’m not looking at the phone and the only thing I am anxious to hear is what he found out,” Josie mumbled.
“Don’t be absurd. I know love sick when I see it.”
Stephen took off his glasses. He put his fingertips to his eyes and rubbed gently so as to “not to get all wrinkly like an old lech”. Josie swung away from the computer.
“How hard can it be to put your hands on a missing person’s report and some medical records?”
“Government isn’t always accommodating and it is Saturday. Besides, even the army doesn’t keep records in perpetuity,” Stephen reminded her.
“The army keep records on everything and everyone forever,” Josie assured him.
“Maybe records that relate to their warriors,” Stephen countered. “Your mother was a spouse. Quite a different thing, if you ask me.”
“You can find anything if you look hard enough. Archer will find it.”
Josie ran over the notes she had input into a file, unhappy with the minimal information she’d been able to dredge from her own memory. She couldn’t remember the name of the family that lived beside them that last awful year at Fort Hood. She thought of contacting her best school friend during that time but she wouldn’t know anything about Josie’s parents. The years in Hawaii before they moved to Ft. Hood were a blur. Her mother was like all the other army wives, exceptional because she was Josie’s mother and Joseph’s wife.
“You are as optimistic as you are selfish, Josie. You just want what you want, don’t you?” Stephen laughed.
“Takes one to know one.” Josie shot him a grin. “What about you? What have you got?”
“A confusing labyrinth of corporate crap, I fear,” Stephen sighed. “I had a bloody hard time trying to track who owns that damn place. Ha Kuna House is a subsidiary of MPS, Incorporated, which is all well and good. MPS is a supplier of hospital goods and are, in turn, owned by another corporation that has a stake in the administrative operations of VA hospitals around the U.S. So, we have a slim connection to the military which might – if we stretch the thread thinner – somehow put your mother into an institution that had some contract with the armed services.”
“Spouses aren’t treated at the VA,” Josie pointed out.
“As I said, a stretch by anyone’s imagination.” Stephen flipped to the next page on his notepad and read his notes. “MPS is a huge concern. They have distribution centers for medication and hard goods, they handle offsite administration and record keeping for more than a dozen private hospitals and seventeen hundred VA hospitals, clinics, community living centers, and domicillaries.”
“Okay, then maybe there was some kind of exception and the Ha Kuna House is a domicillary. That would make total sense. I was just under the impression that kind of thing was for vets only.”
“Me, also!” Stephen barked as if surprised he and Josie were on the same wavelength. “That’s why I drilled down a bit. There is no domiciliary run by the VA in Molokai. There is one on Honolulu and some community outreach on some of the islands but not Maui or Molokai.”
“Curious.” Josie wriggled her fingers, urging him on.
“MPS’s mother company is even larger and has R&D, operational development, medical device manufacturing, and educational materials. They have their thumbs in many pies.”
He relaxed, tossed the notes and rested his crossed arms on his belly.
“Does it not seem odd to you that either of these concerns would own a place like Ha Kuna House? It wouldn’t be more than a mosquito bite of an entry on their big balance sheet. Annoying to deal with I’d imagine, and doubtfully lucrative enough to pay for its own upkeep.”
“At least we’re in the right ballpark,” Josie said. “It would make some sense that MPS would supply and/or own nursing homes.”
“Ah, glad you brought that up.” Stephen waggled a stubby finger her way. “I’ve checked the HCIAS directory for nursing homes and Ha Kuna House isn’t listed. Granted, that agency has strict licensing parameters and since there are no registered nurses or physicians on staff, the facility might not qualify to be listed. If it is a domiciliary, elder care or some such, there is no state licensing that I know of for that. They have an EISN. It’s on the paperwork they completed when doing business with Keoloko. I’ll have my accountant run it down on Monday and try to find a business license and tax returns. Since they are a holding of a publicly traded corporation, we should be able to find them on an annual report. Ha Kuna House is like a bastard child. It exists and yet no one wants to claim it.”
“It still comes back to money for me. Who is paying for it?” Josie flipped her pen and caught it.
“I know a lovely lady over at the Medicaid offices. She says there is an ongoing research grant from Health and Human Services that folds Ha Kuna House into the mix. I’ve given her the names of the four folks under Reynolds’ care. She’s going to see what she can find on those individuals. You know, Medicaid payments, perhaps social security information.”
“Can we find out what the terms of the grant were?” Josie asked.
“I doubt it’s top secret,” Stephen chuckled.
“Then I suppose we can extrapolate that Ian Francis was a professor researching neurological problems and was possibly covered under this grant. The government isn’t paying for a privately held facility but granting an award to an individual. Ian chose Ha Kuna House from which to do his research and that makes things legal.”
“And he shared that amazing windfall with Reynolds or whoever was here before him? I doubt it. An individual grant wouldn’t be enough to heat the place or pay an administrator and staff,” Stephen reminded her.
“That we know of,” Josie countered. “Anyway, lucky Ian to get a job when he was sane and a facility at his disposal when he went bonkers.” She tossed the pen again and it seemed to rotate lazily before she caught it. “It would sure change things if Ian was dealing with something viral and not psychological. Maybe that’s why this is all so secret. Think about it, Stephen. The guy was doing his research thing and then years later comes down with whatever ails the subjects he’s supposed to be studying. If that’s the case, then it makes sense that Ha Kuna House is so remote. Do you think we should be looking at the CDC?”
“You mean like the lepers? Wouldn’t that be quite the irony to stumble on a new colony on Molokai? Only instead of people losing their ears and noses, they lose their minds. I shall want the rights to that museum. I’ll make a bloody fortune.”
Josie crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at him.
“Worse things could happen to a bloke,” Stephen insisted. “Ha Kuna House is a kind of a proper place, don’t you think? No one is in any pain. They are happily unaware that they are unaware. If I lived there I’d make me a fantasy that I was an Arab prince with a harem.”
“That is your real world. And don’t forget, Ian is dead and Amelia has inherited his obsession. Not a happy ending.” Josie pointed out just as his phone rang. He was on and off in less than a minute.
“This is an interesting turn. Robert Cote is the name on the deed of Ha Kuna House. Land records, Josie. The land upon which the place is built is the stone no one would think of turning over. Copies of the records will be sent along. It was purchased for cash in 1986. It was a private transaction.”
“That makes no sense.” Josie swiveled back to her desk and found the copies of the original commitment papers Amelia had provided.
“Ben Farrah, 1964. Amy Sloan, 1972. Marcel Washington, 1966. Ha Kuna House was already established as far back as sixty-four. Why would someone buy it in eighty-six?”
“In Hawaii we buy the building, not the land. That building has been around since the late eighteen hundreds wouldn’t you say? By nineteen eighty-six the lease would have come up. This man simply bought the house in eighty-six and owns the structure and the right to keep the damn place running.”
“How much did he pay?” Josie asked.
“Fifty thousand to MPS Corpor
ation,” Stephen answered.
“Then why is Amelia still getting her paychecks from MPS?”
“Perhaps they needed to get it off their books. The plan would be to divest the smaller properties to individuals working under a separate business license but retain the administrative responsibilities.” Stephen pushed himself up. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Josie tucked her phone in her back pocket and followed him as she kept the conversation going. “And why would they do that?”
“Depreciation was depleted, something like that. Perhaps they needed to show additional income, although what the man paid is a pittance. When we get to the bottom of this I promise, the owning and running of Ha Kuna House will be nothing stranger than some entry on a balance sheet.”
“Except this isn’t really relevant. We don’t need to know who owns the place we need to find out who makes the decisions. Reynolds is going to have to divulge that in his report to the court, but I don’t want to wait.” When they got to the kitchen Josie stopped in front of the cabinet and Stephen shooed her away so he could get to the coffee cups. But she kept talking. “And think about this. In ’86 there were twenty-five residents. Wouldn’t the new owner have to notify the families of the change?”
“Not necessarily. I could easily sell Keoloko Enterprises or hand it over to my son – if I had one, of course – and the business would go on. He wouldn’t necessarily have to advise the clients that it was transferred. They would still place orders and be billed by Keoloko.”
“We’re not talking pineapples. Each resident must have had an advocate of some kind. Ha Kuna House couldn’t unilaterally make decisions for all of them.”
Stephen shrugged, “What if, like your mum, they had no idea who their family was?”
“Twenty-five people all end up in one place without any personal information? Come on.” Josie put her rear against the counter and crossed her arms as if to underscore the ridiculousness of that proposal.
“Of course there is some information, woman,” Stephen scoffed. “Reynolds isn’t an idiot nor is he a monster. It’s not like he’s got a little zoo over there. Social services will investigate and report to the court, the court will issue an order, and we will be given your mum’s records. That’s all we want – unless you’ve decided to help little Amelia investigate all those dead folks.”
Josie shook her head. “No, but when we get to court I want to know everything so Ha Kuna House doesn’t drive the narrative. If we could locate even one other family who wanted information that would give us leverage.”
“Agreed.” Stephen pulled a face. “Aolani made the coffee today. Poor girl. Quite challenged in the kitchen.” Stephen added two teaspoons of sugar but still was not happy. “How are you coming on your statement about little Hannah?”
“It’s coming along.”
Both of them knew that Hannah’s status as a runaway and the threat of possible violence should she return to Hermosa would not sit well with the court. Josie would leave it for as long as she could.
“There are no death records in Hawaii for any of the people who supposedly passed away at Ha Kuna House, by the way. I’ve looked up all but three,” Josie changed the subject.
“That’s disconcerting. Make a note to ask Amelia specifically which patients she asked Reynolds about,” Stephen suggested.
Before Josie could answer her phone rang. She held up a finger. Stephen waited patiently but listened closely as she spoke. It did not sound like a good conversation.
“Has your man run off with another, then?” Stephen inquired when she hung up.
“No. He saw one of Hannah’s drawings in the coffee shop near where he’s staying,” Josie answered. “He’s going to hang around and see if she comes back in.”
“That should be good news but your expression says otherwise.”
Josie pocketed the phone again. “It seems my mother was never officially considered a missing person. No one filed a report.”
“No one?” Stephen asked.
“No one,” she answered. “Not even my father.”
Everything is possible, nothing is impossible. There are no limits. Whatever you can dream of can be yours. – The Secret
CHAPTER 18
“Don’t look like that, my girl. The report might have been filed with civilian authorities.” Stephen suggested.
Josie shook her head. “He checked with Kileen – that’s the closest town to the base – and with Austin PD. Nothing.”
“Perhaps he used the wrong date. You yourself said it took your dad three days to get back home. Who was the first person you told? Perhaps they reported it. Have your man check from that date and see if he comes up with anything.”
“Archer covered his bases, Stephen,” Josie snapped.
“All right, then.”
Put in his place, Stephen left her to stew, trailing the smell of bad coffee after him. He was almost through the office door when he peeked behind to see if she was with him or going to wallow for a bit on her own.
She wasn’t wallowing but she also wasn’t ready to work. Josie had paused by the wall of glass in the living room and was looking out onto a day that had turned windy and cloudy. The waves would be blown out so the girls wouldn’t be surfing. Nor would they be coming home. They would go into Lahaina to do whatever young girls without a care would do. The fact that they once had great cares caused Stephen to take a moment and think fondly of them. Josie was no different than his girls; she needed a soft place to land. Since Stephen believed he was a most brilliant man when it came to women, he knew enough not to interrupt Josie Bates’ thoughts.
Hers were not so different from Stephen’s. She was thinking the girls were simply versions of Hannah. Being around them made her long for Hannah and Archer and Max. Strangely, Josie did not long for her mother and it was that knowledge that grieved her. Outside, the trees bent to the wind, the clouds skated on it, the waves were brushed by it, and here she was, standing in the eye of a perfect-storm.
“Methinks you’re not quite all here, my California friend.” Josie heard Stephen but stayed silent. That didn’t stop him. “Are you thinking about your dad?”
Josie shook her head, “I was thinking about Archer.”
“Then there’s more to your introspection than just needing a hug. Pity, if that’s all it was then I am a fine stand-in.”
“Contrary to evidence, I really don’t like things to be complicated. That’s why I love Archer. What you see is what you get.” Josie smiled.
“Psh. Lawyers thrive on complication,” Stephen laughed.
“Until the complication is personal and then we’re wimps,” she admitted. “I’m just not sure I want to know the truth.”
“Can’t fault you there, darling. It’s appearing that the picture won’t be pretty when we’ve got it all together.”
“My gut tells me that report never existed.” She looked over her shoulder and the light in the room cast shadows over her eyes making her look cat-like and mysterious. “If my father knew where my mother was and that’s why he didn’t report her missing that would make me a fool.” Josie opened the glass door. The warm, moist breeze blew in. She threw her head back and breathed deeply. “A stupid, little girl of a fool who was lied to her whole life.”
Outside, beyond the jungle of trees, the sea was serrated with the kind of waves Stephen Kyle hated to sail upon. Josie hated them because when you swam in water like that the waves stung you, and slapped at you, and the pain was unremitting, and exhaustion was inevitable. Josie’s personal sea was now full of them and she wanted someone to pull her out of the water.
“It’s hard to breathe, Stephen. I want go home and get married and live with Archer and find Hannah. I wouldn’t think of my mother anymore because…” Josie paused. “Because I would be happy.”
Reluctantly she closed the door, wandered to the center of the room, cupped her hands over the back of the sofa, and pushed up on to her toes as if to prov
e that standing taller would make her stronger.
“I miss Max, too.”
“You are a collector of orphans,” Stephen answered.
“We’re two of a kind, Stephen.”
She settled on the rolled arm of the sofa, one leg crooked and the other resting on the floor. When she spoke again she sounded tired, as if she had climbed one too many mountains and couldn’t face the next one.
“I have a professional history I’m not so proud of. When I got to Hermosa Beach I was licking some pretty bad self-inflicted wounds. It took a lot to reconstruct a life in a place I love, with a man I love, and a dog, and the beach outside my house. Then Hannah came and it was all good.” She chuckled. “Sounds like a commercial, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve got everything but granny at the table,” he agreed.
She bit her lip, taking a moment to choose exactly the right words. It wasn’t Stephen’s sympathy or absolution she wanted. Josie wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to listen, she just needed to speak the truth and try it on for size.
“I’m forty years old and I’m tired of having issues with my parents. I think I’m done.”
“Criminey! That’s no good,” Stephen blustered. “You’re still in a bit of shock. Not to mention your hand. Don’t forget that little bit.”
Josie looked at the well-wrapped gauze, the neatly placed clips. She could feel the skin pulling tight beneath. It was healing. Healing always hurt.
“Curiosity is different than masochism. All I ever wanted was for her to tell me why she left. I’ll never get the answer, so why bother with all this?”
The rain came again, pounding for only a minute on the flat roof. Josie spoke first when it let up.
“I have to ask myself if I want to be Emily’s guardian because I’m arrogant and controlling or selfless and loving. Think about it. What will I really accomplish if the court sides with me?”
Forgotten Witness Page 20
