The Life She Wants

by Robyn Carr

  “I think I told you—she’s my sister’s best friend. My sister’s married...” He paused and grinned. “To a man—they’re not that kind of best friends. And my ex is a nice person, a real nice person. I admit, it threw me, but that was years ago. I’m over it. She’s happy, she has a good life, she’s successful...”

  “But you took some heat?”

  “I’m a cop, what do you think? There are some good women in the department but it’s still mainly a guy’s shop and yes, they didn’t let up for a long time. They still give it to me from time to time. But they also like my ex. Because she’s...” He shrugged. “Likable. But it’s mostly over now.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Well, there’s that odd first date when you have to explain your wife left you because she’s a lesbian...”

  “I’m sorry, I was very rude. I shouldn’t have found humor in it.”

  “You laughed your ass off,” he pointed out.

  “Well, just before that revelation, you’d been way too confident. So what does she do? Your ex?”

  “Nurse practitioner. We dated a year, were married a year, been divorced eight years, still see each other all the time because she hangs out with Bernie, my sister.”

  “It sounds kind of nice. Family-like.” She smiled at him. “Let’s have coffee,” she suggested.

  Before Logan knew what was going on, over two hours had passed and he’d had one of the best first dates he’d had in a long, long time. He found Riley to be funny, cute, sexy and smart. He was intrigued by how she built her business. He loved hearing about the way she grew up, the family’s struggles, the family’s close relationship.

  She never once mentioned Emma Shay and he grew hopeful that there was no strong connection between them.

  “Why am I telling you so much?” she said, well into her second cup of coffee.

  He shrugged. “I’m a detective. I know how to ask the right questions. I know when to ask them. But hey, I play fair—this is a date, not an interrogation. I’ll tell you anything.”

  “Anything?”

  “Pretty much. I can’t talk about cases I’m working on but you’d find that boring anyway. Riley,” he said seriously, “this turned out really nice. I think your mother catching you having a date broke the ice.”

  “I think you’re right,” she said. “And I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me why it was me?” he asked. “And why tonight was the night?”

  She wore a mysterious smile. “Maybe next time,” she said. “Or the time after that.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  * * *

  Logan wasn’t allowed a kiss that first night, but she did make plans with him for the next day. She agreed to meet him Saturday afternoon for a movie and early, casual dinner. He took her to see a disaster film—a violent earthquake took out the entire west coast—and if it had been a test, it was a very successful one; she loved the movie and it had her nearly sitting on his lap through the whole thing. And then during a dinner of pizza and beer he was more than happy to tell her his life story.

  Logan’s parents had divorced because his father cheated on his mother when Logan was at a very vulnerable age of thirteen. Although his father never remarried and his parents seemed to have made their peace with each other, Logan wasn’t over it. “I’m thirty-eight, my dad has always stuck around, made amends as best he could, I get along with him as well as possible but the truth is, I’m still pissed.”

  “That’s a powerful grudge,” she said. “Remind me not to make you angry.”

  “Funny thing is, I don’t think I’m that kind of person, not really. I didn’t stay mad at my wife, did I? My sister’s fine with him. But we just rub each other the wrong way. And the rest of the family gets chronically annoyed with both of us. Maybe we just don’t like each other that much.”

  “Did you like him once?” she asked.

  “I worshipped him,” Logan said.

  “And there’s the problem,” Riley said.

  If that had been a second test, she passed with flying colors. She was good to talk to—perceptive and sensitive. Intelligent and compassionate.

  “Might be time to let that little boy in you grow up,” she said.

  And she made him laugh. For Logan, a laugh was almost as good as a kiss.

  Almost.

  On Sunday they went to brunch in Bodega Bay then drove to a hilltop that overlooked the Pacific. Once there, Logan got his kiss and it was so excellent he helped himself to several more. He got the message Riley was just as pleased because in no time they were making out like teenagers. And it was good. She tasted good, felt good, responded to him in a lush and delicious way.

  She stopped him. “Whew,” she sighed. “I’m not ready for more than that.”

  He smiled and kissed her nose. “That’s fine. You’re probably the smart one here. But you have to admit—we have ourselves a very nice start.”

  “Meaning...?”

  “Three dates in three days, good food, good talk, excellent making out...”

  “Yes... And now the workweek starts and...”

  “And?” he asked.

  “I have long hours, family obligations... I don’t usually have this much time to play around.”

  He hugged her close. “I’m not playing, Riley. And I understand about schedules, work, family. How about if I call you? How about we stay in touch? In close touch? Let’s work out when we’ll get together again.”

  “I guess...”

  “You sound a little cautious,” he said.

  “It’s been a long time,” she said. “But yes, let’s talk.”

  “When is too soon to call you?”

  “Fifteen minutes after we say goodbye today,” she said.

  He laughed. “You read me, all right. I’ll call tonight.”

  Then they kissed a little more.

  * * *

  Logan hadn’t been looking. Well, he was always looking, but he hadn’t been expecting to find anyone. This woman was a surprise—as pretty as any woman he might be physically attracted to, as smart as any he could be serious about, as sexy as anyone he could be completely into. It took him a little by surprise, but damn.

  This one, he sincerely believed, had some outstanding staying power. A few things would have to be managed, however. Like the case he was working on. And the fact that Riley had only crossed his path because he’d been watching Emma Shay.

  They talked late Sunday night, too late. That quiet, intense, getting-to-know-each-other, coming-on-to-each-other kind of talk. He had dreams. Fantastic dreams. He went to work early Monday morning tired with a love hangover.

  “We got a break in the Compton surveillance,” his partner Georgianna Severs said. “Her relationship with the Kerrigans flared—she took a job from Riley Kerrigan and it appears her casual friendship with Adam Kerrigan has been upgraded. I reviewed a week’s worth of her phone log and she calls the brother at least three times a day. She took a job with Riley and she’s boinking the brother, Adam. We’ve got her on tape referring to both Adam and Riley Kerrigan multiple times. I guess we know why she’s back here.”

  Logan felt the shot to his gut. His suspect was involved with his new girl...

  Logan slid down in his desk chair and said, “Fuck.”

  “What?” Georgianna asked him. “We knew they knew each other.”

  “Everyone knows everyone around here. She went to school with half the town but she hasn’t been in touch with them. The word was they were estranged, hadn’t talked in years. In four months we had one text to the brother’s cell. One! They weren’t in touch!”

  “That we know of,” Georgianna said. “Our warrant is limited to her phone and her banking. We don’t have her under
surveillance.”

  “We’ve been watching her,” he said.

  “Hit and miss, not surveillance. We’re not sitting on her.”

  “I thought we’d be cutting this loose pretty soon...” He shook his head miserably.

  They occupied a little cubicle, but it was early. Not too many people around. They wouldn’t even have their morning briefing for another half hour.

  “What did you do?” Georgianna asked.

  “I’m hooked up with the friend. Riley Kerrigan.”

  Georgianna was silent. It took her a long time to speak. “Why?”

  “Why? Why?” he asked incredulously. Then all the wind out of his sails, he put his head in his hands. “The flesh is weak,” he muttered.

  “Oh, my Jesus,” she said tiredly. “What were you thinking?”

  “What do you know?” he asked. “You were born married. You were seven the last time you were tempted. She’s beautiful, all right? She’s funny in a ridiculously arrogant sort of way—she thinks she knows everything, like all women, as you should understand. Besides, this just wasn’t that much of a case. I thought she might accidentally give me some useful information and probably never even know it and poof—the warrants would expire, it would be over and—”

  “And we agreed it certainly would be a major case if we caught her transferring money from a hidden account. In which case it would be a career maker. And there was probable cause for the warrant.”

  “Very thin probable cause that had nothing to do with Riley Kerrigan,” he argued.

  He got up from his desk and went for coffee.

  A little over six months ago, shortly before the suicide of Richard Compton, Emma Shay Compton’s cell phone had gone missing. So she claimed. It was not recovered, but in the interim the FBI monitored calls and there had been two placed from that number to Aruba where the Comptons had owned a beachside estate—their winter place. Based on the suspicion that Emma might have offshore funds in the islands, money set aside from her husband’s estate for her to access, a judge had granted a warrant for surveillance of phone and banking records for six months. The six months would be up in February and if there wasn’t any new probable cause, it would not be renewed.

  It was a soft case now with Compton dead, everything either liquidated and auctioned or held by US Marshals for auction. The apartment in Manhattan and the estate in Aruba had been sold. Emma Shay had been thoroughly investigated and if no new incriminating evidence turned up before the expiration of the warrant, it was likely the case would be closed. The FBI was being assisted by local detectives Danner and Severs, but after the expiration of the warrant the local police would be off the case and it would be up to the FBI to sniff around Emma to see if she suddenly started living large or if she bought airfare to another country where she might access her nest egg without the interference of the US Government.

  Law enforcement could investigate her forever if they chose to, but they couldn’t access her property, phone records, banking records or other personal property and space without a warrant.

  Logan and Georgianna had been watching, listening, and there had been nothing to indicate the former Mrs. Compton had access to illegally received money. And they had other cases to work. They were actually property crimes cops but both had had some previous experience in intel and fraud and it served a purpose to have them working in a division that didn’t normally deal with white-collar crime. No one would suspect them of investigating Emma Shay.

  Logan went back and sat at his desk. Their desks were pushed together, back to back so the partners faced each other. There were two computers, two phones, a couple of bulletin boards, a couple of shelves where spiral notebooks and loose papers were constantly stacked. George had pictures of her kids, parents and her framed awards on her side of the cubicle. Logan had a picture of his last dog, a German shepherd named Suzanne after an ex-girlfriend he hadn’t had a great experience with. The accoutrements in the room were heavy on George’s side.

  “It’s not going anywhere and we know it,” he said.

  “You have to tell Mike,” she said.

  Mike was the captain in charge of the fraud unit.

  “When there’s something to tell him, I’ll tell him,” Logan said.

  “There’s something to tell him now,” she insisted.

  “Are you going to get in my business here?”

  “He’s going to ask you to either drop and hand off your investigation or make yourself available to detectives for questioning. He’s going to ask you, ‘Do you want to work this case, which could be a career making case if you find something, or do you want to fall in love?’ Because you can’t have both. If you want to work it, then you’re now undercover and everything you do with Riley Kerrigan is subject to examination, but you can’t have both.”

  “I can if she’s not in any way involved in a conspiracy to receive or help someone receive stolen money or property.”

  “But you won’t know that unless you’re undercover. I have no problem passing this to another team and...”

  “And dropping it after months of work? What do we have—a surplus of bored detectives around here looking for extra work? By the time the warrant is expired we’ll know what we’re dealing with!”

  “And you’ll be in over your head,” she pointed out. “You’ll screw it up.”

  “No. I. Won’t.” He took a breath. “I know how to keep my work and my personal life separate. I’ve done it for fifteen years.”

  “Well...” she said.

  “Okay, once or twice I might’ve blurred the line a little, but I’m not exactly famous for it.”

  She leaned on her hand, looking at him earnestly. George was beautiful. She was five-ten with shoulder-length bronze hair, big brown eyes, a knockout body and a drop-dead intelligence that she’d completely betrayed by marrying and reproducing with a big, burly firefighter. Cops had a love-hate relationship with firefighters. The smoke-eaters always got the girls and it just wasn’t right. If Logan had seen George first, he might’ve married her, but unfortunately he’d been married to someone else back then. But he drew her as a partner and in that got one of the smartest detectives he’d ever known. He knew he should probably listen to her now, take her advice.

  “I got it, George,” he said.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me how you justified this in your tiny little brain,” she said.

  “I was befriending her! I never would’ve gotten interested if I thought she could possibly be involved with our suspect! But then... I just found out, okay?”

  “You’ve had five minutes, which is about all the time you give matters this important. Go ahead. Tell me.”

  “It’s not going anyplace. So they know each other, so what? Everybody knows everybody—it’s her hometown, that’s why she’s back. That doesn’t spell conspiracy or fraud or anything. It’s too soon anyway. If I’d been married to a multimillionaire who got all his money through fraud and if I had a little of that stashed somewhere I wouldn’t tap it in six months. I’d wait a few years till there was no scent on the money. If she wanted some money, why didn’t she take the settlement she was offered?”

  Georgianna pulled a face. “Because she looks better this way and what she’s got stashed is more.”

  “Then why didn’t she take the settlement, move to the islands or something and have both? We talked about this. One of two reasons—either she’s afraid she won’t be able to travel because she’ll end up extradited and prosecuted or maybe, just maybe, she’s not guilty of anything.”

  “Danner, here’s what you don’t get—they were married. They lived together. They slept in the same bed. He probably talked in his sleep. They socialized with his employees and his clients. Do you really think he pulled off a Ponzi and she never thought something was weird? Really?”

&nb
sp; “And here’s what you don’t get, George—not everyone is married like you are. Most of the cops in this shop don’t tell their wives what happens at work and their wives don’t ask. Not all married couples talk. Al’s wife has these huge bills and he doesn’t want to ask her what she’s spending the money on and for that matter Al has a little issue with the slots, so he’s not into sharing. Not all couples have that whole transparent thing going on like you and Mr. Universe.”

  Georgianna smiled. “He likes that you call him that.”

  “Great. Then I’m going to stop.”

  “So let me tell you another thing you don’t get. If she didn’t communicate with her husband, then if she has a secret of any kind she’ll tell her girlfriend. Guaranteed.”

  “Shit,” he said, knowing she was right.

  “So what do you want, Danner? A new squeeze or a case?”

  “Leave me alone. I can do this.”

  “I’m watching,” she said.

  * * *

  Here’s what was going to happen, Logan thought. He was going to work the case with George—they were considered a dream team because they were smart, instinctive and experienced. He’d listen to phone tapes and scrutinize bank records. He would gladly tell George anything he learned from Riley that had anything to do with a possible conspiracy and pointed a finger at Emma Shay. He would not share the personal and intimate details he hoped to achieve with Riley Kerrigan, and very soon. He would keep those two parts of his life separate.

  If he learned from Riley that her girlfriend Emma was coming into money or had hidden money, then Logan would do the right thing—he’d tell George and they would hand over the case and report it to the FBI. Logan wouldn’t break the law. Not even for his own mother.

  But he was going to have something with Riley because he was irresistibly drawn to her. He thought he caught her scent several times through the day and night even though she wasn’t anywhere nearby. He thought they could have one of those unique give and take relationships that was part fun, part intense, part sexual. He was into her, that’s all. He might be an idiot about women, but he was into her and he was going for it until it worked or flopped.