Love By Association

She’d known, of course, exactly who the woman was. Knew, too, as soon as she’d appeared in the room, that the woman had made an excuse for joining the committee late so that she could watch over Chantel. Either to report back to the commissioner on how his undercover rookie was doing in case she was screwing up and he needed to intervene or to provide inside support in what was a very sensitive investigation.

A question she’d intended to ask Captain Reagan first thing Monday morning.

“You think the police commissioner’s wife is following you,” she said now. Curious.

“I know she is.”

And the obvious response to that, in any society, had to be, “Why?”

“I’m on four committees, and she’s managed to somehow be involved in all four projects.”

“Our circle isn’t all that big,” Colin said. “Patricia has been heavily involved in volunteer projects since before she married Paul. You know that.”

Paul. To him. Commissioner Reynolds to everyone in Chantel’s circle.

“Yes, but over the past several months, she’s joined each project I’m involved with, and they didn’t just all start up,” Julie said. “I know I’m right on this one, Colin. She’s spying on me.”

With a mental step back, Chantel faced front but had to ask again, “Why would she spy on you?”

It would be weird if she didn’t ask. Right?

“I was...involved...in something. Years ago. And recently, another woman we all know had a situation...something that came out through her son at school...and Patricia, I’m sure at Paul’s behest, is watching me.”

“Why?”

Colin glanced at her then. “They want her to stay quiet.”

“About what she was involved in years ago? Or what happened recently?”

“Nothing happened recently,” Colin said. “It was just a misunderstanding stemming from the wrong interpretation of a harmless school project. But Julie’s friends with the woman. She thinks that Commissioner Reynolds is nervous that she’ll try to bring up old grievances.”

“I know he is. And it’s not just that I’m friends with...the woman. The things they’re saying...there’s something in it similar to my situation. And we know mine is true.”

Colin didn’t respond to Julie’s remark. This time Chantel followed his lead.

Heart pumping, she made a mental note to check Julie Fairbanks again. She’d already run a check on the family, the night after she’d met Colin. But maybe she’d missed something?

She had to find a way to get Colin to explain to her why he didn’t have much faith in his sister’s judgment on the matter. And why the commissioner would send his wife to spy on her for being friends with someone.

Maybe, if she got lucky, he’d even tell her what the matter was.

In the meantime, she’d gained an important piece of information for her case. The woman Julie had just mentioned—the one who’d appeared to have a similar problem, but didn’t—had to be Leslie Morrison. Surely there weren’t two kids with school projects that had been interpreted to mean trouble in their admittedly small circle.

That would be too much of a coincidence. And as a cop, Chantel didn’t put a lot of stock in coincidence.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHILE JULIE’S SUSPICIONS had put a definite damper on the mood in the car that afternoon, Colin found that the changed atmosphere didn’t dim the flame of his desire to see Chantel again. As quickly as possible.

Because that was a first—him feeling driven from within to pursue something non–Julie related when his sister was obviously upset—the urge grew in intensity. That Chantel was attracted to him, too, wasn’t a huge surprise to him.

But even the possibility that she could be like most of the women who made their attraction to him obvious—after him for his money as much as anything else—didn’t put a damper on his fervency.

So he asked her to dinner. She accepted. And as he went on with his day, he had a smile on his face.

* * *

IN JEANS, a button-down shirt and over-the-ankle hiking boots, Chantel spent a couple of hours at the precinct Saturday afternoon. She checked in with Captain Reagan. Filled Wayne in on lunch. And told him that she’d be having dinner with Colin Fairbanks again that evening.

“Didn’t take you long to find an ‘in,’” Wayne said, studying her.

Chin up, Chantel withstood his visual interrogation without as much as a held breath. “I’m good at my job,” she told him. Married to it, was more like it.

“You are good at your job,” Wayne said, pulling out an empty chair at the table where she sat with a department-issue laptop in front of her. “Maybe too good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You put the job above everything else.”

“Lots of guys do.” And she was one of the guys. They had one another’s backs.

He looked away. “And many of those who do also spend some of their off time in strip clubs.”

“You think I should go to strip clubs?”

“I think you’re a healthy, three-dimensional human being who is living a two-dimensional life. Eventually, that’s going to catch up with you. I just don’t want it to be now.”

She wanted to continue to pretend ignorance. Recognizing it as a weak ploy, she said, “You’re thinking that I might fall for Colin Fairbanks?”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

“Because he’s rich?”

“Because you’re out of your element.” He was being a good friend, telling her what he thought she needed to hear, not what she wanted to hear. She took offense, anyway.

“You don’t think I’m up to running with the rich folks?” She was keeping her emotions in check. It was what she was trained to do. You had to when you were on the job.

“I’m more concerned with the part you’re playing,” Wayne said. “You’re hot as hell, Chantel. You play it down here—like now, your hair pulled back tight, no makeup, loose clothes and those hiking shoe things you seem to wear night and day, even at the company picnic in the middle of summer...”

He broke off, as though realizing what he was revealing—the fact that he’d not only noticed how she was dressed last summer at the picnic, and all the time, but that he remembered in such detail.

Still smarting from his insinuation that she wasn’t up to this assignment, Chantel let him swim in his own stew.

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, he seemed about to tell her something confidential. In a lowered voice, he said, “When I saw you the other day, in character...”

He’d just turned up the heat on his pot. Chantel smiled.

“Sounds to me like you’re the one with issues here, Wayne,” she told him. Because, after all, friends said what the other needed to hear, not what they wanted to hear. “Maybe you should be the one visiting a strip club.”

The statement was mean. She knew the second it hit its mark and felt bad. She and Wayne were such close friends because, when they’d been trainees together many years before, his wife, Maria, had caught him out in a bar with a stripper and Chantel had stepped in and helped saved his marriage.

“You get prickly when you’re feeling defensive.”

“That’s right. You had no business implying that I can’t do my job.”

“It’s not your job I’m worried about,” he said, still leaning close. He rubbed his hands together. “I don’t think there’s doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re the best man for the job. That’s not what I’m talking about. And I think you know that.”

Okay, yeah, she’d known. But...

“You work so hard to be an equal here, Chantel, that you go overboard. You seem to forget that you’re a woman. Like it’s a bad thing, so you pretend that part of you doesn’t exist.”

“I’m not a woman at work. I’m a cop.”

“And when you’re not at work?”

She thought about work. Or ate chocolate ice cream. Or went to the gym to keep in shape for work.

“I hang out with Meri and Max,” she said. Wayne knew them both. He’d been instrumental in saving Meri from her fiend of an ex-husband. He also knew that Max had once been married to Chantel’s best friend, Jill. And that Jill had died on the job, saving another cop. “The baby’s over a year old now, and Caleb’s four. I watch them at least once a week so Max and Meri have time to enjoy each other.”

Because she’d never seen a love like the one they shared.

Wayne was still watching her, his glance more focused than she liked. He was a great detective.

Partially because, when he looked, he could see things most people missed. Uncomfortable with that eye turned on her, she shored up her defenses again.

An instinctive maneuver, not a conscious choice.

“I’m a woman, Wayne. I love children and nurture them. I have friends. I go to the beach...”

“Have you been out on even one date since you’ve been here?”

Chantel thought back. Had it really been over a year since she’d moved from Las Sendas up to Santa Raquel?

“I’ve been busy finding a place to live, setting it up, spending time with Max and Meri, staying in shape, getting up to speed on the High Risk team. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of spare time.”

“You’re thirty-two years old. If you’re going to have a family, you should start thinking about doing so...”

“You and Maria don’t have kids.”

His head dropped enough that she couldn’t see his expression. “We’re trying,” he said, leaving her to wonder if they were having problems conceiving.

“You’re human, Chantel,” Wayne said, lifting that gaze up to pierce her again. “Young and healthy. It stands to reason that at some point...”

“Hold it right there.” Her voice hard as rocks, it was her turn to stare down. “Before you say something we’ll both regret...”

But why shouldn’t he express his concerns? She wanted to be one of the guys, and guys talked about sex all the time.

If she weren’t the cop in question, if they were talking about someone else, she might even share his concerns.

“Look.” She softened her tone. Remembered that she was talking to her friend. And recognized that he had a point. She’d proved it for him with her less-than-stellar behavior. “I admit that the idea of having someone to go out with is...not unpleasant. I’ll even go so far as to admit that Colin Fairbanks is extremely...easy...to be with. I like him. But you have nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me, but those statements give rise to concern rather than alleviate it. And you know as well as I do that telling me not to worry raises more concern because I have to wonder if you’re in denial.”

Calm now, Chantel nodded. “I know. But I’m not. Listen, Wayne, like you said, I’m thirty-two years old. And yes, I’m healthy, of course I have sexual feelings, and maybe it would be easier if I could visit a male strip club now and then, but I’m just not into that.” She grinned, and then, serious again, said, “I’m thirty-two, not twenty-two. I’ve had relationships. And painful breakups, too. Life experiences teach us things, and I’ve learned some things along the way. Two of them...”

She stopped. Feeling a little stupid, sitting there ready to share her innermost thoughts with another cop.

“You’re going to tell me what they are, right? We’re just waiting for you to get there?”

Guy talk, Harris, she reminded herself. And was struck with the thought that she was hiding behind it. Which was ludicrous.

It bothered her—that she’d think such a thing. She loved her job. And really liked having male friends...

“I’m assuming one of the broken relationships, and lessons learned, had to do with Max?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Don’t insult me or cheapen our friendship, Chantel. Either be honest or tell me to go to hell. But don’t sit there and lie to me.”

“I learned something from Max, yes, but not one of the two things I was talking about. And there was no breakup. That’s the honest-to-God truth.”

She couldn’t lose Wayne’s respect. It was one of her most valued assets. Clasping her hands together, she faced him fully. “You’re half-right. I did think I was in love with him. But it started long before Meri’s disappearance last year. I fell in love with him when Jill did. And when I saw her putting the job before him, risking her life unnecessarily while he was at home trusting her to keep herself safe...it was the one time I really had a problem with her. I’m not saying that what she did...saving that rookie’s life... It was the right thing to do. I’d have done the same. So would you have and any officer worth his salt. But there were times... I don’t know, it was just like Jill thought she was invincible or something...”

Picturing her friend, in uniform, with a grin on her face and a gun in her hand—just after shooting practice when Jill had hit three bull’s-eyes—Chantel’s gut clenched with a longing that nearly killed her. Like when Jill had first died.

Would she and Max have ended up together if Chantel hadn’t been too lost in her grief to pursue him?

“Anyway, so, yeah...when I came up here to help him last year, the old feelings...they were still there. But seeing him with Meri, or rather, not with her, seeing how much he believed she was in serious trouble, when all of us were certain that she’d left him of her own free will, seeing how hard she fought to stay alive, to get out of that house when she should have been passed out on the floor—I’d never felt anything like that. But I knew, then and there, that I wanted it and that I couldn’t accept anything less. I’m not going to date a man until I feel something more for him than a desire to not be alone.”

She looked at him, expecting derision, and instead met the serious expression on his face.

“You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

“No, honestly, I feel sad for you.”

“Because I’ve never been in love?”

“Because you didn’t even recognize what love is.”

“You’re telling me that you believe in being in love?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I was ready to jump off a roof when I thought I’d lost Maria all those years ago? And why do you think she took me back?”

“Because I was pretty damned persuasive?”

“Probably.” He grinned. “But also because she’s in love with me as much as I’m in love with her.”

Damn. So it happened more than once in a blue moon. Who’d have guessed?

“Jill wasn’t in love with Max like that.” Jill had been turned on by Max. She’d loved him. But she hadn’t been in love. Chantel, as her most trusted confidante, was certain on that score.

So, well, she had hope, then. Maybe someday...

“You were going to tell me about the two things you’d learned.”

Right. Thanks for the reminder, Stanton. She didn’t have a hell of a lot of hope. Maybe someday... Not. Maybe when hell froze over.

“First, I’m attracted to alpha men. You know, the strong, protective types. The ones who rule the world.”

“Aren’t all women?”

She didn’t think so. Since there were men who weren’t so filled with testosterone that they’d fight first and ask questions later. Not all men were aggressive go-getters. And yet, there were women who loved and needed them.

She just wasn’t ever going to be one of them. More the shame.

“I guess I wouldn’t know,” she told Wayne. “Jill was. I am. Meri is. That’s pretty much the sum total of my experience. And it doesn’t really matter,” she said. “Because the second thing I’ve learned is that aggressive men don’t like aggressive women, unless it’s in their beds, and then only when they want it that way. Protective men like to protect. They don’t want a woman who says, ‘Stay down. I’ve got this,’ while facing the bogeyman alone with a gun in her hand. Near as I can tell, it emasculates them. Or, at the very least, makes them feel incompetent.”

Wayne’s silence wasn’t a surprise. Because he was one of those protective guys.

He knew she was right. The upside was, he left her alone after that so she could pursue the work she’d stopped in to do.

To no avail.

No matter how she searched, either as victim or perpetrator, Julie Fairbanks was not in the system.

Keeping an eye over her shoulder, lest someone see what she was doing and wonder why she was looking at the commissioner’s wife, she tried to find what she could about Patricia Reynolds. It took her two seconds to discover that the woman didn’t have a police record. No real surprise there.

The society pages were filled with her. The queen of philanthropy, she’d been an advocate for the downtrodden since high school, using the influence of being the daughter of a senator—before she’d married Paul Reynolds—to draw attention to matters that bothered her.

She and the commissioner had no children—due, one article said, to her own infertility. She sat on the boards of three different infertility clinics as fundraising chairperson.

And there Chantel had it. Too bad “it” wasn’t anything she could use.

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