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?”

 “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.