Katarain didn't answer. From her own violent past, she knew what emotions were broiling beneath the surface. She grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes. "Eugenio Jose Luis Arregi Katarain Santacristina, I am asking you for the sake of our friendship and respect for the trust I've placed in you. You cannot go after Huttington. Butch may need him at the trial, and revenge is not the same as justice."
The Basque bit his lip and looked at her. His amber eyes were hard and angry, but after a moment, they softened, and he squeezed her hand. "I promise to wait. But if there is no justice for Maria in the courtroom, then all bets-as you Americans like to say-are off."
19
The sun was rising above the coast range to the east, casting a golden glow across the Pacific Ocean off the Oregon shore. Marlene fixed the pair of binoculars on the surfers who were sitting on their boards a hundred yards away, waiting for the next set of waves. Two began paddling fast when an eight-foot swell rushed in from the west.
Picking up speed down the face of the wave, the faster of the two popped up into a wide stance while the other gave up. Marlene focused on the rider. Definitely a woman. Although she only caught a glimpse of the surfer's face as she finished her ride and began to paddle back out to the lineup, Marlene was pretty sure that she had found who she was looking for: Maly Laska.
"She'll be the only girl out there," her roommate had said. "The currents are pretty strong right now and the swells are big-you have to be ready to play with the big boys…or not give a shit what happens to you if you mess up. She's a little of both."
When Fulton called her at the Basque Cultural Center and told her what he'd learned, Marlene knew that she needed to find Laska, the young woman who claimed Rufus Porter raped her. It had taken a week of digging, but she'd located the girl's parents in Huntington Beach, south of Los Angeles. They'd only just moved there and had been reluctant to say anything until Marlene convinced them that she worked for the good guys. Even then, all they would admit to was that she had moved away months ago. "She's scared and just wants to forget about the whole thing," her mother said. "I wish you people would leave her alone."
Marlene put herself in the young woman's shoes. You've just been raped, reported it to the police and gone through that humiliation, only for the justice system to fail you miserably. Then something happens-a threat?-so you pack up your bags overnight and hightail it home to Mom and Dad. But you're still afraid enough that you don't stay. Where do you go?
The question bothered Marlene for several days until she woke up next to Butch, who'd flown in to begin preparing in earnest with Meyers, at O'Toole's house in Idaho after a restless night. Come on, Marlene, she was originally from San Diego, so you're a beach-girl surfer type who goes to school in Idaho. You're outdoorsy. You go home to your parents, who live in Huntington Beach, but it's not safe for you or them…so…? Sooooo…you return to the ocean and find someplace "safe" to surf.
Of course, that only left a couple thousand miles to search-just counting the West Coast-but it gave Marlene someplace to look. She began by doing database searches of library systems in California, Oregon, and Washington. That turned up a few hits for M. Laska, Mollie Laska, and one Maly Laska living in Lincoln City, Oregon. A quick check of the Lincoln City chamber of commerce website indicated that the town was promoting itself as a "little known but definitely on the rise" spot for surfing.
Two hours later, Marlene was on a flight to Portland, Oregon, where she rented a car and drove to Lincoln City. It was night when she arrived, so she'd waited until morning to head out. The library entry had provided a street address, which led to a pretty little cottage on the cliff above the beach just south of Lincoln City.
The roommate had answered the knock on the door. Marlene identified herself as representing Dan Zook, the prosecutor in Sawtooth, which she'd okayed with him before leaving. "I just need to ask her a few questions."
At first the roommate denied knowing any Maly Laska. But Marlene had pointed out that the broken-down VW bus in the driveway was registered to Maly, a fact she'd been able to ascertain by getting Fulton to call the Oregon Department of Motor Vehicles before she approached the house. "So what," the roommate said, and began to close the door.
Placing her hand on the door to keep it open, Marlene said, "Look, I don't want to hurt her or put her through any more than she's already been through. But you know and I know, and Maly knows, that guys like Rufus Porter will just keep doing what he did to her until somebody stands up and puts his ass in prison. I know she's scared. I'm sure she's been threatened. And if she wants me to go away, I will and I'll forget I ever knew where she lives. But I've got other people I'm worried about right now, too-an innocent man who is having his life destroyed by Porter's lies, and a father who's looking for a daughter who disappeared and thinks-however remote the chance is-that somehow this is all connected."
The roommate looked at her and seemed to be debating in her mind before she bowed her head and nodded. "We heard from Maly's folks that you might be up this way," she said. "You might as well come in."
As Marlene entered, she saw the roommate put a handgun back into a drawer of the stand next to the door. The other woman noticed the look and said, "I keep this here, hoping that asshole Porter shows up looking for her someday. I'm going to let him in the door just to make it legal in terms of the 'make my day' law, and then I'm going to shoot him in the balls and watch him die slow."
They'd talked for a few minutes, and then the roommate told her where to look for Maly at the beach several miles north of Lincoln City called Cascade Head. "She usually surfs until about nine. Then she has to come back and get ready for work at a local restaurant."
An hour later, after spotting Maly out on the water, Marlene took off her shoes and went for a walk along the beach. That way she could enjoy the morning and keep an eye on her subject without raising suspicions until Maly stopped surfing.
Marlene picked up a rock and skipped it out toward the breaking waves. It reminded her of days she spent with her father as a young girl, skipping stones into the water at Coney Island. He was at a difficult stage in life now-suffering from dementia and mourning the loss of his wife, Marlene's mother, Concetta. She was still lost in thought, skipping stones an hour later, when she noticed that Laska had caught one last wave in and was paddling to the shore. The young woman reached the beach, picked up her board under one arm, and began crossing the sand on muscular legs to the parking lot. There she rinsed under an outdoor faucet, unzipping her wet suit to reveal a tan, athletic body.
Marlene moved to intercept the girl as she picked up her board again and started to walk toward the highway leading back to Lincoln City. As she approached, the girl gave her a glance and then slowed her pace, as if trying to decide whether to continue on or run back to the water.
"Maly Laska?" Marlene asked as she caught up.
"Don't know her," the young woman replied, and picked up her pace again.
Marlene had to run to keep up. "I'm sorry, I know who you are, but I'm not here to hurt you or give away your hiding place-though to be honest, anyone with a computer could find you if they wanted."
The young woman stopped and studied Marlene with eyes dark green like the ocean she'd just come from. "You with the District Attorney's Office in Sawtooth?" she asked angrily. "I told them I was done with it. I will not press charges and if I'm subpoenaed, I won't show."
"I can appreciate that," Marlene replied. "And no, I'm not with the District Attorney's Office, though he's given me permission to say that I am. I am working with the father of a young woman who disappeared several months before you were raped. He thinks that all of this-her disappearance, the rape, and a case my husband is working on to try to salvage the life of the university baseball coach-is connected through Rufus Porter."