Page 1 of Maliea's Hero

CHAPTER 1

Exhausted from a night dancing for a crowd of tourists at a luau, Maliea Kaleiopu swung by her apartment to shower and change into comfortable clothes before going to her friend Tish’s place to pick up her daughter.

The night had been particularly hot, with high humidity and no breeze to cool them off between sets. Her skin was sticky with drying sweat. A quick glance in her visor mirror proved what she already knew. Between perspiration and humidity, her carefully applied makeup was sliding down her face.

She pulled up to the apartment she’d lived in for the past four years, wishing for the thousandth time she could afford a house with a yard.

Nani, her three-year-old daughter, had been asking for a dog. Apartments weren’t conducive to owning dogs. Granted, many of their neighbors had dogs, but they had to walk them numerous times during the day and evening.

Since her husband’s death, Maliea had had to work two jobs to make ends meet. Owning a house and caring for a pet didn’t fit into her budget.

Taylor’s income as a junior professor at the University of Hawaii hadn’t paid a great deal. Between his income and her dancing, they’d managed to survive the high cost of living in Hawaii. He’d been doing what he’d loved, teaching Hawaiian history alongside Maliea’s father, Professor John Hasegawa, the tenured history professor and head of the department. The two men had also spent time on archeological digs throughout the island chain, their true passion.

Maliea did what she loved, dancing in the traditional Hawaiian style for luaus, birthdays and other events.

They hadn’t seen much of each other over the past year, with Taylor working days and Maliea working nights. They’d agreed it had to be that way until he was promoted, thus increasing his salary.

Maliea had noticed that she and Taylor had drifted further and further apart over the past year. Sex had been practically non-existent, not that she’d missed it. After nightly performances, she hadn’t had the energy or desire.

She’d told herself they just had to weather their situation a little longer. Once they had more money coming in, Maliea could back off working so many nights. Then they’d have more time together. They’d work on their relationship later.

It was always later.

Later hadn’t come for Taylor.

He and Maliea’s father had chartered a seaplane to fly to one of the smaller islands to investigate a clue regarding a lost treasure.

On their return, the plane had crashed into the ocean, killing all aboard.

In that one devastating crash, Maliea had lost her husband and her father. Though she and Taylor had drifted apart, she missed him. After all, they’d started out as friends. But the loss of her father had hit even harder. He’d been the rock in her life since her mother’s death from cancer. She had always counted on him when she’d needed advice, a safety net or just a hug. She still found it hard to breathe.

Only a couple of weeks had passed since their deaths. Maliea needed to go to Taylor’s and her father’s offices at the university to collect their personal effects. She also needed to go to her father’s apartment and sort through his belongings.

She just hadn’t had the heart to do it. Not yet. The wounds on her heart were still raw.

Maybe tomorrow. She had a few days off between gigs. She wouldn’t need the expense of a babysitter because she could take Nani with her.

She parked in the lot adjacent to her apartment complex, got out and grabbed the gym bag she carried to and from performances. It contained makeup, hair products and other things she needed. For the larger performances, the dance troupe provided the costumes and managed their transportation and cleaning. Thank goodness.

With her key in hand, Maliea carried the gym bag up the steps and across the landing to her apartment. When she went to stick the key in the lock, the door pushed open. That’s when she noticed the splintered door jamb.

Her pulse leaped into hyper-drive. She backed away from the door and spun, running back the way she’d come. When she reached her car, she jumped in, locked the doors and rested her hands on the steering wheel while her heart raced so fast she could barely breathe.

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and hit 911 as she stared up at the landing outside her door, fully expecting to see someone emerge from her apartment.

When a woman’s voice answered and asked, “What’s your emergency?” Maliea almost sobbed.

She swallowed hard and blurted, “Someone broke into my apartment.”

“Are you inside the apartment now?” the dispatcher asked.

“No.” Maliea’s hand shook as she held the phone to her ear.

“Are you in a safe place?”

“I’m in my car, outside the building,” Maliea said. “Doors are locked.”

“Is the intruder still in your apartment?”

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