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blouse and bra into the laundry hamper. She rolled an athletic bra down over small round breasts and pulled on a pair of nylon running shorts and a mesh top, bundling her curling hair into a ponytail.
    The suicide note. In a scene that looked staged, it was clearly in Corby’s writing and yet it didn’t reveal any of his real motivation. The note had a stilted, form-letter feel to it that concealed as much as it revealed—like someone had given the boy the words. 
    Keiki, done eating, saw these signs of imminent departure and began a low rumbling whine of eagerness, intelligent brown eyes tracking her mistress as Lei slid her feet into short athletic socks and laced up Nike Air running shoes. Angel, not so restrained, lapped circles around Lei, yapping with excitement.
    The little dog was too small to keep up with Lei and Keiki on their runs but was devastated to be left behind, so Lei had rigged up a secondhand baby carrier that she wore on her chest. She’d been caring for the little dog for more than a year while her owner, a teenager Lei had forged a bond with, served a sentence in Hawaii Youth Correctional Facility in Ko`olau. She scooped up the dog and tucked her in, leaving the little domed head and large pointed ears protruding. She slid a heavy chain collar over Keiki’s head, patted her pockets for her house keys, phone, and pepper spray, and took the dogs outside for their evening run.
    The cottage was about a mile from the west end of Ala Moana Beach Park, and Lei and Keiki made good time jogging along the urban sidewalk to the long stretch of lawn at the beginning of the park. They ran past picnic structures, spreading banyan trees, a long yellow-sand beach, and several homeless tents.
    Lei took the dogs to the fenced dog park area. The big Rottweiler lay down panting when they arrived, while Angel made darting runs at the other dogs, barking when she had a mind to. Lei did some stretches off the park bench, watching the families and other dog owners.
    A couple sat on the bench near her, their arms twined around each other, sneaking kisses as their dogs, a shih tzu and a pit bull, wandered and sniffed the fenced area. The sight of the couple brought Lei’s loneliness back in a rush as she remembered Marcella’s flushed face and sparkling eyes, Kamuela’s dimpled grin.
    Love was in the air, and Lei wasn’t getting any.
    It was too much. Lei took out her phone and held down the number seven, Stevens’s speed dial. The phone rang and rang.  She listened to his voice tell her to leave a message. Just to hear his voice brought tears prickling up, a dreaded weakness. She hung up, sliding the phone back into her pocket without leaving a message.
    She wasn’t tired enough; that was it. Maybe she should give the Women’s Fight Club another try, but she didn’t like the idea of seeing Alika Wolcott, who coached there. They’d dated back on Kaua`i, and she was still uncomfortable with him.
    Some more running would help. She went to the nearby water fountain, splashed water over her face and hands, sucked down all the liquid she could hold. Made sure the dogs each got a good drink in the little basin designed for them, clicked the leash back on Keiki, and loaded Angel into the front carrier.
    This time she went down to the beach and jogged laps back and forth. Tiny, clear turquoise waves lapped at the sand. The sunset blazed orange against the depthless blue sky, gilding clouds mounded near the horizon. Palm trees lining the beach clattered their fronds in the light breeze, and mynahs squabbled in a towering plumeria tree.
    Lei jogged until the restless darkness of her mood was drowned by the thunder of her heart. Finally Keiki began hanging back, tongue lolling, and Lei took the dogs back uptown at a brisk walk.
    The phone rang in her pocket, a buzzing vibration. She took it out, checked it before she answered.
    “Hi, Michael.”
    “Lei.” Just the sound of Stevens’s voice as he said her name made her