out a breath. “I know. On one level, I know. But it still feels personal. I guess I need to get over that. I’m sure she’ll call as soon as she needs something.”
“Probably,” Lei said. “And you’ll help her. Because that’s who you are.”
“I love you,” he said in a whisper. She could tell he was walking somewhere.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Kiss Dad and the little man for me.”
“I’ll pass on kissing your dad. Kiet can have both kisses,” Stevens said, and Lei smiled as she cut the connection.
They called for boarding. She stood, slinging her pack onto her shoulder, and got into the line along the huge viewing window, glancing one last time at Haleakala’s shadow.
The good thing about the flight was that it was short. The bad thing was that she had to fly at all. Lei sat in the window seat of the Hawaiian Airlines midsize jet. Oahu was the hub of most activity in Hawaii, from government to business, and having to take a plane and spend a couple hundred dollars (not to mention renting a car or paying for transportation once you got there) was one of the minuses of living on the neighbor islands.
Lei felt a painful constriction in her chest as she buckled her seat belt—and realized it was anxiety colored by grief.
It reminded her of another time she’d buckled into a plane’s seat belt, on her way to another island. She’d been pregnant, and the seat belt had felt tight. She touched her waist now, feeling a familiar pang of emptiness. Sometimes she even imagined she felt the fluttering kick of the baby she’d lost.
This was the first time she’d been on a plane since the commuter flight she’d been on from the Big Island had been hijacked. After she lost the baby, she had been on that flight back from Kaua`i with Stevens. She’d been so heavily medicated, she couldn’t even remember it.
Lei couldn’t remember much from that dark time three months ago.
She reached up behind her neck and took off the white gold medallion she always wore. Thank God she always wore it, or it would have burned, along with everything else she owned, in the house fire that had happened around the same time.
With the medallion in her hand, Lei settled back, shut her eyes, and began doing relaxation breathing. She’d learned the technique during therapy early in her career on the Big Island. It still worked, but Lei was glad no one had taken the seat beside her. She just wanted to be alone to get through the short trip.
Once they were in the air, Lei relaxed enough to look out the window at the spectacular coast of Maui on her left. The land draped like crumpled velvet, the clouds a swan’s-down edging. Maui’s rugged topography ranged in color from the deepest, darkest green to the pale yellow of new growth. The edge of the coast was rimmed in black rock and yellow sand, the ocean a navy blue blanket tufted with spindrift far below.
Lei took out the sketch the artist had done, along with the photos of the two men she was pursuing. She’d taken the copies of Makoa’s professional contracts and told Pono she’d fax him a copy when she got to Honolulu Police Department. Sorting through the contracts, she made a list of contact people and representatives she could interview if she had time—beginning with the personnel at Torque, Makoa’s biggest sponsor. Torque had leased the beach house at Pipeline where Makoa lived during the season along with some of his competitors.
Lei looked up as the plane began its descent and realized she hadn’t thought about the hijacking at all once they were in the air. The current crime she was investigating was too absorbing. She looked out the window as the plane curved down over the waters of Pearl Harbor, the wreck of the Arizona and its memorial clearly visible under a veil of shallow turquoise ocean. From their line of descent, the iconic profile of Diamond Head was clear in the distance, punctuated by the gleaming skyscrapers of Waikiki.
Lei’s spirits
“Probably,” Lei said. “And you’ll help her. Because that’s who you are.”
“I love you,” he said in a whisper. She could tell he was walking somewhere.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Kiss Dad and the little man for me.”
“I’ll pass on kissing your dad. Kiet can have both kisses,” Stevens said, and Lei smiled as she cut the connection.
They called for boarding. She stood, slinging her pack onto her shoulder, and got into the line along the huge viewing window, glancing one last time at Haleakala’s shadow.
The good thing about the flight was that it was short. The bad thing was that she had to fly at all. Lei sat in the window seat of the Hawaiian Airlines midsize jet. Oahu was the hub of most activity in Hawaii, from government to business, and having to take a plane and spend a couple hundred dollars (not to mention renting a car or paying for transportation once you got there) was one of the minuses of living on the neighbor islands.
Lei felt a painful constriction in her chest as she buckled her seat belt—and realized it was anxiety colored by grief.
It reminded her of another time she’d buckled into a plane’s seat belt, on her way to another island. She’d been pregnant, and the seat belt had felt tight. She touched her waist now, feeling a familiar pang of emptiness. Sometimes she even imagined she felt the fluttering kick of the baby she’d lost.
This was the first time she’d been on a plane since the commuter flight she’d been on from the Big Island had been hijacked. After she lost the baby, she had been on that flight back from Kaua`i with Stevens. She’d been so heavily medicated, she couldn’t even remember it.
Lei couldn’t remember much from that dark time three months ago.
She reached up behind her neck and took off the white gold medallion she always wore. Thank God she always wore it, or it would have burned, along with everything else she owned, in the house fire that had happened around the same time.
With the medallion in her hand, Lei settled back, shut her eyes, and began doing relaxation breathing. She’d learned the technique during therapy early in her career on the Big Island. It still worked, but Lei was glad no one had taken the seat beside her. She just wanted to be alone to get through the short trip.
Once they were in the air, Lei relaxed enough to look out the window at the spectacular coast of Maui on her left. The land draped like crumpled velvet, the clouds a swan’s-down edging. Maui’s rugged topography ranged in color from the deepest, darkest green to the pale yellow of new growth. The edge of the coast was rimmed in black rock and yellow sand, the ocean a navy blue blanket tufted with spindrift far below.
Lei took out the sketch the artist had done, along with the photos of the two men she was pursuing. She’d taken the copies of Makoa’s professional contracts and told Pono she’d fax him a copy when she got to Honolulu Police Department. Sorting through the contracts, she made a list of contact people and representatives she could interview if she had time—beginning with the personnel at Torque, Makoa’s biggest sponsor. Torque had leased the beach house at Pipeline where Makoa lived during the season along with some of his competitors.
Lei looked up as the plane began its descent and realized she hadn’t thought about the hijacking at all once they were in the air. The current crime she was investigating was too absorbing. She looked out the window as the plane curved down over the waters of Pearl Harbor, the wreck of the Arizona and its memorial clearly visible under a veil of shallow turquoise ocean. From their line of descent, the iconic profile of Diamond Head was clear in the distance, punctuated by the gleaming skyscrapers of Waikiki.
Lei’s spirits
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