When I Found You

“That explains it,” he said, and surprised her by touching the back of her hand. “And it explains the color of your hair. But where does the eye color come from? Your father?”

She chuckled. “My mother’s side. She’s blonde and blue-eyed, as mostly everyone is on her side of the family. American for generations, but her ancestry is Swedish.”

“That’s an interesting combination. Do your parents live in California?”

“No. They moved back to England a couple of years ago. Enough about me,” she interjected before he could ask her more questions. She didn’t want him digging any deeper, even though she found it effortless to talk to him. “What about you? Why did you become a cop?”

“I wanted to make a difference,” he said with an easy smile, echoing her own words. “I wanted to contribute in a positive way to people’s lives. And it runs in my family. Both my father and grandfather were lifers on the job. My father was the chief of police for Burbank.”

She thought his eyes were clouded with sorrow for a moment.

“My parents, my mother in particular, might have wanted for a different career for me,” he continued. “Maybe a doctor or a lawyer, but that wasn’t happening. I wanted to be a cop as far back as I can remember.”

His comment made her think of her own childhood dream of becoming a police officer, but she pushed it aside. “If you’re from Burbank, what brought you to San Diego?”

He raised a shoulder, let it drop again. “My dad was a hero. A figure larger than life. As much as I loved and admired him, I didn’t want to live in his shadow. I also wanted to know that I’d be making it on my own. Not because of who he was, what he’d accomplished or how highly people regarded him. I wanted it to be on my own merits. I wanted to build my own career.”

Ariana watched him carefully, searching for any sign of bitterness or envy, but all she saw was pride and admiration. To her, that said a lot about Logan, and it was all good. She saw a decency and a depth she hadn’t expected.

“Speaking of making a difference,” Ariana said with a smile. “What will happen to the women on Flight 396?”

Logan grunted. “Yeah, we made a big difference there! They’ve been charged, as I said. Public mischief. It’ll probably be reduced to a misdemeanor. Even before they sobered up, they were both bawling. It only got worse when their parents showed up.” The laughter was gone. “They won’t soon forget it. Nor should they.” He reached out, brushed his hand over hers again. “But it gave me a chance to meet you.”

His proximity and especially his touch triggered those sensations again. She absorbed the warmth that had come into his cool blue eyes. “There is that,” she said softly, and meant it, but she leaned back, subtly sliding her hand out from under his.

Logan reached for his bottle and took another drink. “So, will there be civil consequences for the women? They inconvenienced nearly two hundred other passengers, and the cost to the airline, the airport, not to mention the military for the fighter jet escort...” He rolled his eyes at that. “The expense has got to be substantial.”

Ariana didn’t know what to make of the feelings he was stirring up inside her and tried to remind herself of all the reasons why she wasn’t interested in him. With effort, she concentrated on the question he’d posed. “Yes, there are significant costs associated with the incident, but I don’t think there’ll be any legal action. The airline might do some posturing, mostly as a deterrent to other would-be troublemakers. They’ll have to cover costs associated with rebooking passengers who might’ve missed connecting flights to some of the outer islands and, if need be, overnight accommodations as well as the expense of bringing the plane back. Pursuing a claim against the women would cost them more money than they could hope to recover.” She shrugged. “The military escort? I have no idea how much that would’ve cost. We got confirmation that they used the incident as a training exercise, as we suspected. For the airport...” She smiled again. “It’s all in a day’s work for us. What about the police department?”

“All in a day’s work, too. For us, the real issue is that while we’re dealing with something like that, we’re not out there addressing real threats to the public. With our limited resources, it’s about trade-offs. We prioritize based on risk—likelihood and potential outcome. Though the likelihood of an explosive device being aboard that plane was deemed negligible, we couldn’t ignore it. That means we weren’t dealing with other matters.”

“I get that. There are never enough resources to do all that needs doing,” she murmured. She was thinking of her own department as much as the police.

“You’re right.”

Sipping her beer, she looked around. She watched a young couple sitting near the middle of the room and frowned.

“Hey, you with me here?”

Ariana shifted her gaze back to Logan and let out a short laugh. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s sort of a game I play, whenever I have a quiet moment in a public place.”

“What kind of game?”

This time the discomfort came through in her chuckle. “Since I was a kid, when I first decided I wanted to...” she’d been about to say “be a cop,” but caught herself “...to work in my field, I’ve tried profiling people. Maybe that’s the wrong word. I don’t mean like what law enforcement organizations do. Just reading people better, I suppose. I took a course in college, too. I do it mostly to amuse myself. It does come in handy at times in my field, though, as you can imagine. Studies have shown that profiling airport passengers based on their behaviors can be an effective adjunct to security screening. I like to watch people and try to figure out what they’re all about.”

She saw his eyes track to the couple she’d been observing. He motioned with his bottle toward them. “So, what’s their story?”

“Oh, I don’t think I want to do this. Certainly not with you!” She felt the heat on her cheeks and glanced away.

“Okay, how about I go first?”

That made her smile. “All right.”

He took a few moments to study the couple. She did the same and noted again how the man seemed to be attentive and interested, until the woman’s head was turned. Then his eyes landed on or followed the nearest female.

“They’re married, maybe five years,” Logan began. “No kids. He’s a midlevel manager. She’s probably in PR or advertising and earns more than he does. She loves him, although the shine has dulled over the years. He begrudges her some for being the higher-income earner, and he has a straying eye. Although he probably hasn’t cheated on her yet, it’s only a matter of time. He feels he’s entitled and believes he needs to do it to make himself feel more of a man.”

Her startled laugh erupted, and she put a hand over her mouth.

Logan turned incredulous eyes on Ariana. “You find that funny? That he’ll probably cheat on his wife?”

“No. No. That part is sad. It’s what you said about them. All of it.”

Logan smiled. “Are you laughing because you think it’s ludicrous or because you know I’m right?”

“The latter,” she said, still chuckling. “You’re good at this game!”

“So you agree?”

“Mostly. All the tells are there. The husband’s roving eye when she’s not paying attention. The fact that he handed her the bill when the waiter brought it, and so on.”

Logan nodded. “Now it’s your turn.”

Ariana scanned the room. She wanted to pick carefully to be as on the mark as he had been. Not only because of her competitive nature. Maybe it was silly, but it mattered that she gained his respect.

She was considering the man who’d just entered the bar when Logan motioned to the new arrival. “How about him?”

She scrutinized the tall Hispanic man standing with his back to them. “Okay,” she said. She had more or less settled on him already.

He was chatting with the occupants of a booth close to the entrance. His dark hair was longish, nearly reaching his collar. His clothes, although casual, were of good quality. Expensive. His stance and manner were confident. He was highly aware of his surroundings. When he turned his head, she could see he was attractive, but there was a dangerous—not quite tame—aura about him.

He was wearing a light windbreaker. She was experienced enough to recognize that he more than likely had a concealed weapon under it. Her smile faded and she shot a tense glance at Logan. He was watching her, heedless of the man, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Ariana leaned in. Her voice was low, her tone serious. “The man you picked? Don’t look!” she whispered as Logan’s gaze started to drift toward the man. It snapped back to her, and he had a considering expression on his face.

“He’s confident, self-aware,” she continued in an insistent whisper. “He’s not easily intimidated or one to shy away from confrontation. In some cases, he might welcome it. He seems dangerous and resigned...somehow fatalistic. He comes off as laid-back, relaxed, yet he’s intense and perceptive. He’s got money. Probably quite a lot, but he doesn’t flaunt it. My guess is he’s involved in the drug trade. Likely a drug dealer for a cartel out of Tijuana,” she concluded.

Logan started to smile and shifted his eyes again. She placed her hand hurriedly on top of his. “No. Don’t look,” she repeated urgently. “He’s carrying. I’m certain of it.” She glanced at the man. “Okay. He’s facing the other way. You can look now.”

Logan did, slowly and discreetly. Nonchalantly he took another drink, keeping his eyes in the general direction of the man they were discussing. Ariana saw the moment the man’s eyes met Logan’s. A look she couldn’t decipher passed between the two of them.

She saw the narrowing of Logan’s eyes, the tightening of his lips. A knot formed in her stomach. She wondered if the new arrival was known to Logan.

Ariana could only gape when Logan placed his bottle on the coaster, pointed a finger at the man and beckoned him to approach.

“What are you doing?” Ariana murmured uneasily.

Brows furrowed, he glanced at her briefly. “You’ll see. Just stay calm,” he added.