The serene kitchen decorated in shades of taupe, soothed her. Here, she was most at home, most in control. Cherry-blossom rice-paper blinds over the window above the sink added a splash of color. “Dinner, Father,” she called. Miso soup bubbled on the stove, and the aroma of teri stir-fry filled the kitchen. She lifted Japanese puff rolls, called shu cream puffs, from the oven and prepared to fill them with custard. The aroma whetted her appetite—as long as she kept her mind from straying to the sacrifice she’d seen. The phone rang, and looking at the caller ID, she saw it was her friend Fawn. “I should have called you,” she said when she answered. “I’m sorry.” “Was Leilani at home?” Fawn sounded worried. “No.” She told Fawn about the heiau she and Mano found, and the remains of Leilani’s shirt. “Did you call the police?” “Yes, but Sam doesn’t seem too worried. He thinks Leilani has gone off on a lark with a new boyfriend.” “I guess that’s possible.”
